Ginger

A beautiful day on the east coast.

Less so on the west coast. It's dry but in a way that hints the weather may change its mind at any minute.

We're over in Glasgow for my eldest brothers memorial service. Angus isn't quite sure why there's a memorial service but it's well attended and good humoured. People say nice things and get ever so slightly emotional without getting carried away by the immediacy of events. Those gentlemen not in kilts wear suits (  white shirts and black ties much in evidence ) and ladies wear black broad brimmed hats. The church is a shrine to 19th century Presbyterian 'no frills' piety. Alternating plum and pink pew cushions ( a colour scheme that rightly never took off ), varnished pine furniture ( smelling of a century of ingrained polishing with Pledge ) and a solitary stained glass window with  Jesus holding out his arms in a beatifically welcoming manner while preaching to a surprised looking pelican. On closer examination the pelican might be a flamingo. It's a sort of generic exotic bird that's half pink and half turquoise. The window was bought in the 1890's at a 'good price' by some canny church elders from a firm of stained glass manufacturers that had gone bankrupt. The kirk elders clearly prized value above avian accuracy. Jesus , I notice when the sun briefly makes an appearance, has ginger hair.

Further along the street a small crowd tapping their feet to this very Glaswegian music :https://youtu.be/A0YQfbje-CE?t=59

One of the secrets of Scotland is the rail system. Everyone likes to complain about it but the Scotrail trains get us across the country ( and back ) in comfort and on time.... to the second. Travelling by train means Angus can have a wee dram before heading home. On the journey out of Glasgow four rail employees sitting behind us discuss the capital cost of combine harvest ownership. They wonder how you define sunk costs on a piece of equipment that is only used during a brief three week harvesting window ? Changes in field size, interest rates, amortization and government subsidies all discussed in a way that reminds you that the electorate isn't as disinterested or uninformed as the papers would have you believe. One of the men says his son has just started work as a green keeper at a golf course but is hating it. 'He gets hay fever badly'. Everyone agrees that being a greenkeeper and having hay fever isn't ideal.

The scenery en route, although we're in the crowded central belt and not the Highlands, is wonderful.

Back in town we see seagull chicks everywhere. There's a dozen or so sleeping on the ground by the medical building store room. Seagull parents seem to be extremely diligent until such time as the little ones flee the nest. Then they seem to be left pretty much to their own devices. The poor wee things scamper around the streets hoping passing cars brake for them. Our three chicks remain flapping their wings on the neighbours flat roofed kitchen extension.