The sky giving us a show that justifies being out of the house before seven. There's something special about the light on a morning when the thermometer dips below freezing. It's as if you can see forever. A dozen contrails high above indicate the paths of the US originating flights heading to Schipol and Frankfurt. The beach is getting busier now. The usual cast of dog walkers have to share the sand with student runners - no less than five of them this morning. The two spaniels are delighted at having something new to chase.
On the shore a shell catches the sun and glows a rich salmon pink. The Celt in me likes the idea that even a broken, washed up shell can have its moment in the sun.
No doubting the students are back. There are loud and emotional reunions on street corners. Laughter once again fills the air. Young couples - separated by Yuletide family gatherings - sit silently in cafes and hold hands. The wonderous intensity of teenage love. Guide books define this place by its history but the real interest lies vey much in the present. The pavements once again require careful navigation to avoid the i-Phone zombies who are oblivious to everything that's not on their screens.
We opt for breakfast in town. All the inside seats at the first two cafes we try are taken so we sit outside at a third. Both of us are wrapped up to the nines so don't feel the cold. Angus opts for a bacon brioche. 'The Font' a wholesome 'Winter Wonderland'. In minus temperatures our Americanos get cold very quickly. I go inside and order refills. An English couple dropping off their teenage son at the hall of residence on the other side of the road look at us and laugh. They've clearly decided we're both sixpence short of a shilling.
Snow is forecast and right on cue sleds make an appearance in the shops.
On the town notice board we find a poem that is highly critical of the Scots First minister. If only all political dialogue were conducted poetically. Someone has added to the poets sentiments in Trump Sharpie style capitals.
7 comments:
The shell photo is delightful.
It is the Scottish First Minister's misfortune that his name so easily morphs into 'Hapless Humza' or 'Useless Yousaf'...
Glorious sky and the shell encapsulates beauty in small things.
Looks like the start of another fun day, stay warm.
You've captured the shell's brief moment of delicate and poignant beauty.
Thank you for the pictures, particularly the shell. I'll pass on the music, it hurt my ears. The Nano article from McGill was interesting as Canadian media have had the research as leading news items. Joe usually puts things in perspective.
I am surprised to learn that you consider it a Celtic gift to appreciate the beauty in a broken, washed-up shell - rather like Buddhism. I enjoyed the menu, although I am afraid that, even as a vegetarian, the Winter Wonderland might be beyond me.
The town has sprung back to life!
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