By five thirty Sophie and Angus are on the beach. Sophie is still of the mindset that if it's light it must be time to get up. She alerts Angus to this fact. 'The Font' slumbers on.
Saturday, May 13, 2023
The sand dunes behind the beach have been fenced off so that young birds are untroubled by passing humans and dogs. The old World War 2 coastal defences designed to keep tanks out make excellent nesting territory for larks and wagtails. This morning the larks are in full song.
Sophie is, for a second day in a row, in her 'the sea is my best friend' frame of mind. She has also decided that she doesn't like her kibbles. These are, perhaps, both signs, that our loyal companion has reached an age where she's turning into her mother.
We walk back through town to the car. The university garden department flower beds looking resplendent. Shame there's no students to see them. Soon the bulbs will be lifted and shrubs put in for the high point of the year - the June graduation ceremonies.
This morning Sophie and Angus head to the small Italian espresso place opposite the auld kirk. We have the place to ourselves. As the barista comes out to give Sophie a sliver of shortbread two American gentlemen arrive. One of them calls his wife. The conversation, one half of which we can't help listening to, goes as follows - " Hi honey. We've arrived. We watched the movies on the plane. We didn't sleep. It took an hour and a half to get to St Andrews from Edinburgh. We've checked in and showered. The hotel is fine. This town is super small. There's supposed to be a university here but we didn't find it. We'll tee of in a couple of hours. Talk soon ". I'd never thought of this place as being super small. Perhaps a decade in a small French village of 84 inhabitants has shaped our view of the world.