A week ago the idea of getting rid of a group of blood soaked Ayatollahs seemed like something we could all get behind. A week on and things seem less clear cut. The morning news on Radio Scotland leads with a report that plans are being drawn up to put 'boots on the ground'. This all seems so eerily familiar. A serious man educates listeners about the threat to desalination plans. He spends more time talking about the finer details of seawater electrolysis than the average listener is perhaps prepared for at six am on a Saturday morning.
The farmer has been up early working in the field down by the shore. We know he's busy because every so often clouds of dust drift across the horizon. He has bought a new bright red spraying machine which has two huge pneumatic arms that unfurl at right angles from the front . From a distance the unfurling arms wave in the air like the arms of a huge praying mantis.
As we head down the path to the shore for our morning walk we see him heading back towards us. Turns out the driver isn't the local farmer but some farm hand with a taste for speed and a disdain for local residents. We retreat to the safety of the courtyard as he makes a sharp right angled turn by the courtyard and races past us.
Easter is coming and the farmers wife is preparing for the return of her two eldest from university. It seems her daughter has met a new boyfriend at Oxford. 'He's from Wyoming' said in a disapproving tone of voice that hints he may - literally - be a cowboy. He will be put up in the guest room. It's clear the farmers wife still has a soft spot for the 'nice' farmers boy from Staffordshire who helped with the silage. The issue of going to the US for the World Cup remains a subject of 'dispute' with her two sons. She's hoping that British Airways will impose hefty fuel surcharges that she can claim are impossible for them to afford. The farmers new top of the range Land Rover Discovery and the new red spraying machine may point to exceedingly healthy cash flows at the farm but I decide to keep this thought to myself.
A New York restaurant is moving its staff to St Andrews for four months. We've never heard of Rao's but the local paper informs us it has a ' uniquely intimate, legendary atmosphere '. We ponder what 'uniquely intimate ' might mean and whether this is a good thing. The arrival of this New York eatery tells us a lot about how much money is in St Andrews in peak golf season. It also tells us that wealthy Americans may not be impressed with the standards of the local restaurants. St Andrews is a seasonal town. Hectic in summer dead in winter. Pre-Brexit French and Italian youngsters would flock here to work in the restaurants and improve their English. Post Brexit it's impossible to find staff. Standards have adjusted accordingly.
Flavoured Hot Cross Buns in the supermarket. Angus takes this as another sign that the end of days are fast approaching .
The repairs to the Aquarium are nearly completed. The sea walls were breached in the storms of March 2025. Now a strong concrete barrier is being finished off. The whole thing should be ready and the doors open for Easter. The Aquarium has a family of Meercats who attract toddlers ( and their parents ) like a magnet attracts iron filings. Purists may wonder what Meerkats have to do with an aquarium but this is a question perhaps best left for another day.
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2 comments:
Hari OM
...is it very dreadful of me to say that reading the Rao's article kept bringing up pictures of 1930s gangsters in my mind? As for messing about with hot cross buns... just don't! YAM xx
Such sacrilege! What's wrong with a traditional Hot Cross Bun!
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