Hogmanay music #3.

The souped up Nissan Juke belonging to the farmers youngest son is parked outside the village hall. The car has recently been resprayed in matt black and is his singular pride and joy. He's delivering rolls of bunting and a pile of plates to the kitchen entrance. On Tuesday he'll bring down the wide screen television so the party goers can follow the countdown to midnight on the live broadcast from Edinburgh. I will drop off the case of Fiano di Avellino at lunch time . Tickets for the village Hogmanay Hoolie cost £23 and include prawn cocktail ( with sauce Marie Rose as an indicator of the catering committees cordon bleu intent ), Haggis and Neeps or, for the non-Scots, Turkey and ' all the trimmings' . There will be Cranachan to finish. This will be the first Hogmanay for the young American couple and their children. The New Zealanders and Australians are now in their third year here and seem to have taken to village life like ducks to water. They of course are deemed to be Scots with accents. On New Years day there will be a silent disco in the walled garden of the Manse. We have no idea what a silent disco might entail but it sounds a good way of keeping the village sub-teens occupied .

Down on the quayside the lobster creels have been repaired, stacked and are ready for what the fishermen hope will be a bumper 2025.

We get to the fishmongers late. The lemon sole and halibut have gone.

'The Font' buys some salmon tails . We also order two more lobsters to be cooked, prepared and ready for collection on Monday morning.

On the clifftop path railings we notice a line of padlocks. We've seen this in Paris and at the Milvian Bridge in Rome but are surprised to find the tradition has taken root here. Young lovers in these parts must be hardy souls.

The uber trendy cafe looks as though it won't open until the start of the new semester. They are too hip to appeal to anyone other than a student clientele so this is a sensible commercial decision.

Hogmanay music #3. Another staple of New Year revelry in these parts :https://youtu.be/qwun83po2u4?t=30

The Economist has an obituary page that's exceptionally well ( and thoughtfully ) written. It's often always full of kindness. This latest edition has an other worldly entry that made us smile . When if ever have you read an obituary that mentions otters warming the frozen feet of a saint ? Who would have thought an unexpected and unexplained parcel could spur on so much activity ?  ( PS apologies to The Economist if they object to me poaching one of their pages )