The tournament organizers are in luck. The weather forecast predicts blue skies and warm(ish) sunshine. The weather in Scotland in May and September is at its best. The good weather has got the dog owners out. On the beach we say 'Good morning' to the taciturn Chinese chef, the lady with the Pomeranian, Archies owner and the woman with the Briard.
The town is suddenly crowded. I'd forgotten just how many folks turn up for a golf tournament. The university end of the street is solid with teenagers while the other end is buzzing with 'B' and 'C' list celebrities . There are also a smattering of perma-tanned guys who have recently played a round or two with Donald. There is little interaction between the groups.
I'd have to say the place is looking at its best. The university gardeners are experts at ensuring the flower beds are in bloom at just the right time.
The tournament has a rather good poster.
It also uses a cardboard Westie as a backup advertising strategy. These have popped up in many shop windows. Neither of us know what Dunhill make. They used to be a tobacco company but have morphed into something else. Adverts for IWC watches and Genesis cars have popped up all around the Old Course. Maybe people actually opt to buy cars at golf tournaments. 
In the evening we pop into town for a pre-dinner libation. We're making maximum use of what daylight is left before the super short winter days arrive. The barman tells us the bar was crowded but the golfers have headed off to a six thirty corporate dinner. All the heaters are on at full blast and blankets have been laid out for patrons who are not used to the 'bite' of a late Scottish September evening. To avoid being scorched we sit as far away from the powerful heaters as it's possible to get. 'It'll be fair heaving when they come back at nine' says the barman with a tone of voice that suggests it will be chaos. Three American gentlemen show up and order beers. They're from Texas . ' What's the best Scotch ale you've got ?' they ask. One has flown into Edinburgh with Delta while the two others have flown American from Philadelphia. They all agree that first class on a 787 doesn't have much leg room. From their conversation we learn that they have sharply partisan views on the respective airlines. A couple from North Carolina stand and look at the seventeenth tee and say 'Wow' over and over. After four years here this is a response that seems oddly commonplace.
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