An outburst of passion.

Yesterday afternoon we had our Pfizer Covid jabs at a pharmacy in Dundee. We went in at 2:40 and were out by 2:50. This morning both of us are as right as rain and - unlike last year - there's been no ill effects whatsoever.

The village is a hive of activity. Twenty or so archaeologists have started on a ground radar survey of the deer field. They've come to the conclusion that where there's a iron age cemetery there must be an iron age settlement. The latest thinking is that three thousand years ago the inhabitants buried their dead on the shore and lived at the top of the raised beach where the soil is fertile and well drained. 

The archaeologists have brought along a Port-a-loo which has sensibly been fastened to the ground by a system of ropes and weights. This has been planted right by the courtyard entrance. The size of the weights tells us the organizers of the dig know the weather here can be 'blowy'. The chief honcho tells us the plan is to have a two week dig starting on Sunday. Some intact tombs have been discovered and they're hopeful to find intact 'remains'. 

In town we pass the bench with its memorable epitaph ' Golf, Bridge and view of the Sea'.  Jake and Edie - whoever they were -  seem to have known what they wanted - and managed to find their favourite place. Their celebration of these simple pleasures always makes us smile. Many of the villagers are enthusiastic bridge players. One quickly learns never to have a wee bet when playing with against them. The kirk elders are particularly skilled in this regard.

The Sheltie is on the Old Course. He and his master are watching a group of youngsters tee off. The dog eyes the golf balls with an intensity that suggests he'd love to be let of the leash to retrieve them.

There has been an old fashioned courtesy to the collegiate tournaments proceedings. Each of the competitors is announced, silence falls as the shot is taken and the umpire then announces ' Excellent play. Well done'. People clap politely.  I'm guessing there is less razzamatazz here than one would find at an American tournament. One young Singaporean guy takes his shot then wanders over to hug his copiously weeping mother. She has become overwrought at the sight of him playing on the Old Course and  repeats the words ' My boy. My boy. My boy' over and over. The no-nonsense Caddies politely avert their eyes from this un-Presbyterian public display of emotion although their deference suggests they understand the passion. What happens on the Old Course stays on the Old Course.

The balconies of the hotels overlooking the club house are lined with enthusiastic alumni supporters. Berkeley end up the winners with Princeton second. St.Andrews , like all good hosts, is happy to come fourth.

Something I enjoy more with each passing year :https://aeon.co/essays/two-billion-humans-are-doing-something-bizarre-right-now-sleeping

Urns in space :https://www.thespacereview.com/article/5077/1

The old Fluoride in water debate is still kicking :https://www.propublica.org/article/michigan-fluoride-drinking-water-st-clair-county

David Austin, that bastion of conservatism have their first ever striped rose :https://eu.davidaustinroses.com/products/the-kings-rose