Green lights.

Last night we venture out to try a local Italian restaurant. It's packed full. Two large tables of affable American golfers in short sleeved shirts swap ' I got a hole in three on the seventeenth ' stories across the aisle. They are in the home of golf and determined to enjoy every minute of their pilgrimage. The  two groups are soon getting on like a house on fire. Wallets are produced, photos are shown and backs, quite literally, slapped. Advice on the relative merits of a Tesla versus a Lexus are shared. Pizzas are ordered as appetizers which confuses the staff. 'Nothing like eighteen holes to work up an appetite'. The wine list is passed from hand to hand amid knowing comments like ' Herb was here last year and said the Barolo is wonderful'. All agree that the wine should be decanted -  a request the waitress doesn't often face. One man with a particularly commanding voice shares the view that ' This place is so like Milan you can't believe it'. We certainly can't although the decor tells you this isn't Scotland. Politics isn't mentioned once.

By the time we've  finished dinner the dozen golfers have moved onto sampling whisky. 'You Scotch ?' one man asks me as we're leaving. Having satisfied him that that is indeed the case he goes on to  ask 'What would you drink ?'. I tell him to stick with Macallan and he'll never go wrong. This simple truth is enough to get us invited to play golf in Sarasota. As a parting gift I tell them that local golf grandees always say the Old Course - and the weather -  is at its best in mid-September. I'm guessing the golfing visitors stayed until closing time...or beyond.

The three, ever growing, gull chicks wake at five twenty and signal that they're hungry. Instead of squawking they're all making a noise somewhere between a bark and the sort of coughing noise a dog makes when it has something stuck in its throat. One of the young gulls stands on the edge of the gutter and flaps its wings. Soon, please Lord may it be soon, these chicks will be exploring flight.

The gulls don't seem willing to settle down again so we take this as a hint to get our day started. We're the only ones down by the harbour. This is a part of town visitors rarely come to and its too early for the dog owners in the flats on the waters edge to be up and about. In future we will remember that early July is 'Gull time'.

On our way home we have a chance to study the restored bandstand up close.

The man responsible for setting out the chairs for this afternoons concert tells us that the same company that built the bandstand a hundred or so years ago received the contract to restore it. They found the original colour scheme and have stripped off the old municipal brown paint and brought back the decor it started off life with. Foliage in green, fruit in red and bird, butterfly and snail in gold. There is something rather pleasing in this.

Do ambulance sirens work ?:https://www.statnews.com/2023/07/07/emt-ambulance-emergency-lights-sirens/

If it's not been drunk by now it gets to be valuable :https://www.sothebys.com/en/buy/auction/2019/the-ultimate-whisky-collection/the-macallan-fine-rare-60-year-old-42-6-abv-1926?locale=en