Faith sees best in the dark.

Overnight a storm. The rain throws itself against the roof with a ferocity of purpose you'd expect in February but not July. On the evening news the radio commentator describes the weather at the British Open golf tournament as 'dire'. That pretty much sums it up. Thankfully, this morning the storm has passed and we wake to blue ( or at least bluish ) skies and a warm sun that's already well above the horizon. It's going to be a glorious day.

Hundreds of crows sitting on the stone walls that line the track that runs from the house to the shore. Being 'canny' birds the crows take off as we head towards them. They circle around and then when we've passed by settle down again. They roost like this every evening from six onwards. During the day they scoot off to glean the barley fields and sunbathe on the roof of the potato sheds.  From their numbers I'd reckon the crows ( together with the local sparrows, swallows, larks and starlings ) are having a bumper year.

A bishop on the morning 'thought for the day' tells us that one of Joe Bidens favourite lines is ' Faith sees best in the dark'. The bishop then goes on to tells us that he's gently suggested to his 80 something mother that , after the latest 'misjudgement' when parking her car, she give up driving.  After much discussion the family have finally taken the keys away and 'lost' them. We are left to ponder if this message is spiritual or has a more political undercurrent. 

To the cheesemongers for some smoked salmon. This is the morning when it's delivered from the smoke house. The cheesemongers also has Brie de Melun which is something we've not seen since the market in France.

July is the time of year when the university halls of residence, empty out of term, become home to European language schools. We wonder how much you would need to be paid to shepherd European teenagers around over the summer. A posse  of Italian fifteen year olds , and their teachers, demonstrate how not to cross the road. The zebra crossing is ignored in favour of a four way junction. Some charge across the road, others - in a display of teenage independence - head off at right angles.

The busker 'busks' alone. Perhaps a coach load or two of tourists will show up soon ? We think the busker may be Polish or Slovak. He has a heavily accented repertoire that hints at a Slavic rather than a Scots upbringing. The tunes are jolly but unrecognizable.

The seagulls are getting to that stage when they make it clear that this is their turf. Two, arguing over a piece of Domino pizza crust,  hiss at us and make it quite clear they are not going to share their culinary good fortune with anyone.

This mornings music listened to on the car radio :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xVV0ArxAmZs

A substack reminder why we maintain a subscription to this magazine :https://substack.com/home/post/p-145387774