The tide has washed up thousands of sea urchins. Their thin shells crackle and crunch underfoot as we walk along the shore. Sophie finds this ' snap, crackle and pop ' sound to be of great interest. The family diva stops and greets the usual cast of canine characters. All, it seems, is well with the world and another perfect day lies in store.
To the new Italian Espresso bar. A man in his late sixties and his two forty something sons are standing outside. They're golfers from Tennessee. I know this because they tell me. Sophie eyes them warily. The youngest mans grand daughter is graduating in Edinburgh this summer and the men folk of the family have decided they should dress 'Scotch' for the event. The kilt maker has opened early to get them measured before they head down to the airport and the flight back to New York. They are trying to decide whether to have the same tartan ( the coordinated look) or go for different plaids to look more 'jazzy'. Some things are best left uncommented on.
Bizarre fact of the day. One of the Nashville folks tells me that more Irish Americans in the US are Protestant than Catholic. Seems many - like Mike Pence - have become evangelicals. Most , he claims, are Scotch-Irish who maintain that fierce Ulster individualism. This sounds implausible. ( I Google it and find this less than convincing piece -https://www.irishcentral.com/news/irish-americans-are-more-protestant-than-catholic ) Last night, after dinner, Angus and Sophie wander down to the old salmon bothy.
Lots of jets and helicopters about. Seems there are Russian ships out by the deep sea cables ... again. A large, brightly lit, cruise ship glides slowly by . The shipping website tells me that it's the Viking Venus with 900 guests on a tour round Britain. I hadn't expected to see a cruise liner this close to the last wee house before Denmark. We watch it disappear into the distance. I wonder if any passengers pause over the their filet mignon to wonder where they are ?
5 comments:
You certainly seem to have charmed the weather. What a delightful evening stroll into the setting sun.
It would be interesting to see the tartan, or tartans, the Tennessee golfers choose - I hope the kilt maker suggests restraint. Can they choose any tartan they like, and will they be given a potted history of the tartan they choose? I seem to remember being told, years ago, that certain tartans belonged to certain clans and could not be worn by outsiders.
Many footprints of different sizes and designs on the sand. Busy morning?
Nobby is impressed by the sea urchins but wonders whether Sophie can tell him if they are pricky on the paws?
Such a beautiful contrast between the early morning and early evening skies. Angus must get a great deal of practice biting his tongue while conversing with tourists who offer such penetrating insights.
Bless you for biting your tongue with the clueless tourists. Now go pour yourself a glass of Scotch.
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