Picking up the pace.

Sunday morning. A gentleman on the radio compares the experience of driving a new car to 'the time the K just hit'. This is not a phrase either of us had ever heard before. It is also a phrase neither of us is ever likely to use.

The pace of life around here has kicked up a couple of notches. The pavements busy with youngsters who have arrived on the overnight sleeper train . They're being dropped off outside their dorms by station cabs and attempting to pull wheelie bags along uneven pavements. The influx that has been building over the last four or five days is moving to a new level. All the traits of the late teen are on display - some are mild mannered, others earnestly cheerful, a few self assured and all of them incurably naive in a ' What have I got myself into ?' way.

One of the lambs in the field by the shore has discovered that the grass on the other side of the fence is greener and juicier. It pulls its head back into safety as we pass. 

Fresh mushrooms in the farm shop.

The centre of the town , away from the dorms, quiet bar a few parents up and about and planning to head home in the car after they've said goodbye to their offspring. Windscreen washer levels are being checked. The parents should be in London in time for dinner if the traffic is good. Mothers are keen to linger. Fathers want to get the Edinburgh Crossing behind them.

Gold chocolate for sale in the delicatessen. Gold chocolate used to be a thing fifty years ago. Then it suddenly disappeared. White chocolate also went out of production around the same time although it's made something of a comeback . I buy a bar of Gold chocolate and will report on it later in the week. It used to be sold as Caramac in the Scotland of the early 60's. More recently you would occasionally see it in Fauchon in Paris.

Bikes outside the supermarket. I complain about the students kamikaze pedestrian skills but nothing is quite as terrifying as a student on a bike. They head determinedly in the wrong direction along the towns one way systems. All 18 year olds consider themselves immortal.

Back out in the quiet of the coast we can see the farmer loading up the last of the hay bales down by the heron pond. The farm is getting ship shape and squared away in time for  winter.  Plans are being laid for the village Harvest Festival. The young American and Canadian fathers are walking their youngsters down to the rocks. They caught a dozen mackerel yesterday and hope to do the same again today. I bet their wives didn't think they'd be gutting mackerel when they agreed to start a new life abroad.

This mornings car radio music :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R-qheZD5VtE

There are 96 million birders in America if these numbers are to be believed. I've never seen a birder in the US :https://www.audubon.org/magazine/birding-booming-hobby-and-big-business

The true size of Africa :https://bigthink.com/strange-maps/africa-wants-a-new-map/

Sunday morning ponder :https://danieldrezner.substack.com/p/welcome-to-the-interregnum