At the still point of the turning world.

Town is fast filling up. Down by the golf course we watch some visitors taking photos of other visitors taking pictures of themselves on the 18th tee. There are hundreds and hundreds of French tourists who have shown up for tonights festivities. They wear black city coats that are slightly too stylish for the Scottish seaside. The French have that ' what shall we do next ? ' air about them. By 10 am they'll have walked the beach, bought some tartan souvenirs, seen the town and be waiting for their hotel bar to open.

'Decadently' is doing a lot of work in this local hotels Reveillon advert. 'The Font' wonders if a 3 course celebratory dinner washed down with a single glass of champagne is truly 'decadent'. Maybe it's the 'indulgent surprises ' that push it into the realm of  unrestrained gratification.  For Valentines day 'decadent' will be replaced with 'romantic'. The menu will stay the same.

Dogs waiting impatiently outside the bookshop. I stop by to pick up two books - the Taubmanns new biography of McNamara and Gotham at War.

The kilt has been found as has the Sgian Dubh. The sporrans have been put away somewhere so obvious that we I can't now remember where. Two  searches have failed to find them. A third will soon start.

2025 is nearly done and so from all of us here at the last wee house before Denmark best wishes for a 'guid' New Year brimming over with health and happiness. May your 2026 be filled with hope and joy and all sort of unexpected good things that flow from them. May the powerful rediscover honesty and truth. May kindness flourish. For friends in less fortunate parts of the world the simplest but most heartfelt of prayers - May you have a year without fear. Here, sung as it should be, the song that will mark the arrival of the magic hour  :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sMFnqj6aFwY