The first of the year.

London quiet. That time when summer is a distant memory and plans for festive shopping haven't yet taken root. We go for dinner to a restaurant that is usually booked solid but find that there are only three tables taken.

The first Christmas tree of the year spotted as our cab passes a house in Pont Street. Is this a record ?

'Shag cakes' at the bakery counter. Have you ever seen anything so colourful ?

Chocolates the size of golf balls. Interesting flavours but why make them so big ?

The station flower shop is open but there's no one behind the counter. Flower theft is presumably unheard of.

A dog waiting for a train to Cambridge makes its boredom plain. Our LNER goes ( and arrives )  on time . Later trains will be stopping in Edinburgh or York. The east coast has a red weather warning - 100 kmh winds and 10" of rain are expected. That's unusual even by Scottish standards. The train company is being prudent. After last weeks downpour the soil won't be able to absorb any more water and widespread flooding is expected.

This morning the rain is bucketing down and the wind howling like a banshee.  The sea pounding the shore like an uncaged beast. The single power line that connects us to the village and the grid is swinging backwards and forwards in the gale - candles are ready and torches charged in case there is a 'service interruption'. This is a morning when even the hardiest of dogs and their owners will have hurried walks....extremely hurried walks.  'The Font' is thankful that the 'cabin' has been over engineered. Interestingly, metal beams set six feet into the ground still manage to vibrate when hit by these storm winds. 

Seven French airports were closed for a while due to bomb threats yesterday. Toulouse among them.

A storm is on its way.

 

Blue skies but the clouds are building. Gale force winds are expected. Our 10.00 am train from London brings us all the way north but the noon train stops in Edinburgh and the 2:00 pm won't head north of York. Another heavy downpour is on the cards.

Scripted or unscripted ?

 

Usually, the students keep pretty much to themselves but sometimes there's no avoiding them. The annual foam fight is one such occasion.

A thousand or so freshers have been corralled onto a patch of lawn between the sea and the biochemistry labs. A flimsy fence has been put up to separate them from any passing townsfolk. They cavort away happily. 

A Norwegian television crew are filming the high jinx behind them. Mid-intro some young blood plants a pile of shaving foam on the television presenters head. He takes this with good grace. Was it spontaneous or scripted for the camera ?

There are four policemen on duty. I ask one of them if there are ever any problems. 'None whatsoever' he replies before adding ' we had a lassie climb up a tree and get stuck up there two years ago'.  In a world gone mad it's good to know there are places where a bout of vertigo is remembered.

A large group of French tourists stand and watch. They aren't sure what to make of any of this but doubtless believe that this is very Scottish and goes on all the time. Foam covered students, heading home,  ignore them. After last weeks rain the weather is perfect.

We are heading south to London so tomorrows blog maybe a little late.

98.6 is a myth. Or is it ? :https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/why-986-degrees-is-not-the-average-human-body-temperature-180983071/

The dog walkers are surprised.

2 degrees this morning. This doesn't deter the students who are out for a sunrise dip in the sea. It's Raisin Monday. A strange , residual, medieval holiday when students were allowed to take the day off to buy raisins ahead of the winter. These days it has morphed into an excuse for a three day party. 

Dog owners who are used to having the town to themselves are surprised to find a thousand students cavorting on the beach by the harbour, another thousand at the pool under the castle and maybe another thousand or so on the sand by the golf course.  Some of the local mutts look decidedly unhappy at sharing their morning promenade with this crowd of noisy revellers. A labrador picks up a bathers towel from the sand and , to the sound of cheers, heads off with it across the sand pursued by an unhappy young man in wet boxers shouting 'Come back. Come back '.

From the number of beach bonfires and discarded champagne bottles I'm guessing that most of the students have been up all night. Some of them are now at the unsteady on their feet  'one slug of Bacardi too many ' stage. Lots of blue and yellow flags being carried. It's 600 days exactly since Russia invaded Ukraine. 

Angus is surprised at the number of bathers. Who in their right mind would go swimming in the North Sea in October ?  'The Font' observes that if you're a teenager studying in Scotland you' can't let a little cold and windy weather deter  you from having fun.

The Coastguard show up and park their truck on the grass verge overlooking the sea. An overly enthusiastic  girl has opted to go swimming on the rocks by the pier. She's cut her foot. Six concerned friends, six slightly bored male coastguards and a female paramedic are dealing with, what turns out to be, a minor scratch. The young lady has a plaster applied.  One of the coastguards tells me that the water is 'quite warm'. I thank him for this information but have no intention of finding out if he's right.

In town two affable police men are on duty outside the supermarket. They are reminding students that they can't buy alcohol until ten am and telling those who are ostentatiously displaying a bottle to 'carry it so we can't see it '. As we return home the post beach partying is still in full swing.

This guy at Salk is really good. Through the pandemic he provided sensible technical insight.  Now it seems we're close to getting a nasal vaccine  : https://erictopol.substack.com/p/covid-nasal-vaccines-get-a-boost

Rarely change.

3 degrees this morning but it seems colder. Much colder. The strong wind whipping in from the north adds a sharp  'bite' to our morning walk. We've been up early for a call with the dark suited Manhattanites. Jim Jordan, Gaza, New Zealands change of government  and todays (important ) Polish elections were all discussed. After that the windy walk and the half dozen deer grazing on the beach provide the perfect mind clearing antidote. One of the villagers is having solar panels installed in her garden. The delivery truck is too long to navigate the sharp right angled corner by the potato barns. As we head into town a small crowd has formed . The retired GP thinks the truck can make it round the corner. His wife - and the truck driver - disagree. We leave them to it.

In town more signs that Halloween is approaching.

On the steps outside the old hall of residence two pumpkins stand guard.

One has survived the impromptu  Saturday night touch football game.

The other hasn't.

On the street facing the beach the municipal gardeners have removed all the bedding plants. A sure sign frost has a starring role in our immediate future. Next to the empty flower beds a seagull is standing on the lawn determinedly tapping its feet to attract the worms to the surface.

We find another small Scottie on the pavement outside the students union. It's difficult to catch on the i-Phone but it looks fun. 

By the time we leave Starbucks the streets are already getting busy with jet lagged  American golfers adjusting (badly ) to the time difference , students going to the beach for a dip and sports teams heading off to their Sunday morning fixtures. As it gets colder hats are making a big comeback. 

So starts a Sunday morning in a small town where daily routines rarely change.

Saw this earlier in the week but only got round the reading it now :https://www.richardcarrier.info/archives/23380

A bright night.

 

Into town to meet old friends. Winter nights in the north are special. By seven the streets are quiet. The shops and coffee shops closed or closing, the restaurants opening. A crescent moon shares the sky with the Pole Star.

Most of the students are in the warmth of the library or getting ready for dinner. Lights in upper storey flats hint at meals being readied. The wine shop has a sprinkling of young male customers buying wine ahead of a dinner party. Bottles are studied with that furrowed browed intensity only a teenager can muster.  A  group of  twenty or so American golfers have filled the tables outside the whisky bar.  Despite the cold they seem to be enjoying themselves. Two, possibly three, glasses of Gods amber nectar on an empty stomach help things along. The Americans have been playing Carnoustie and are looking forward to getting on the Old Course. One gentleman observes that you can't get Scotch this good in Raleigh. 'This is damn fine stuff'. He repeats this twice for the benefit of anyone who might be listening. Two passing Scots lads are invited to join them for a drink. 'You guys from around here ?' They willingly accept.  Caol Ila's - doubles - are ordered. The drink buying kindness of Americans must be one of the hidden benefits of being a student here. Hints on how to play the Old Course are soon being shared.

Behind chapel the lecture theatres are bathed in blue light . Someone must have thought this architectural son et lumiere touch was a good idea. Angus thinks blue lights and cold winter nights are a uncompromising combination.

The tide out this morning. The lobster creels lining the quayside. After the tournament the demand for fresh lobster is slow. It will pick up again when the Thanksgiving tourists arrive.

In the supermarket the Halloween displays are joined by Christmas puddings. 20% of the shelf space must now be given over to Halloween / Christmas products. An entire aisle has been devoted to boxes of festive chocolates.

Curlews.

After last weeks heavy rains a small lake has formed in the potato field. This has become home to four curlews who spend their day wading balletically through it. This morning the curlews have been joined on the lake by a flock of late migrating  terns. They aren't expecting to be disturbed this early in the morning and glare at us as we head past them down the path .

Town busy. The streets solid with students cycling to their first lecture of the day.  All the free parking spots at the cathedral end of the road are taken . We  use the app to pay for a  spot down by the library and head off to get in the queue at Starbucks. Ahead of us three girls are noisily quizzing a fourth about why she's become so infatuated with a third year Med student named  'Harry'. We are called to the counter to order before we can hear her defence of the young man . From the inflection in her friends voices we gather that 'Harry' is not universally approved of.

Angus has been up early chatting with the super smart Los Angelenos. We all agree that unexpected things happen when righteous anger explodes into blind hate.

Halloween in the air. The first pumpkins appear outside front doors.

The little old lady with the Westie crosses the road in front of us. Shopkeepers shout out 'Good morning' but she's concentrating on where she's going and is oblivious to them. The Westie is no longer wearing his cone and she has moved from her light weight red coat to her  black winter one. Having made it across the road she sits on the bus shelter bench to ger her breath back. The wee Westie settles down happily for a nap at her feet.

So starts a sunny Friday morning in a small peaceful North Sea town. Peace and good governance are overlooked blessings.

Luring a new generation.

The town has its own rhythms. The golfers have now largely gone. They've been replaced by fresh faced young things and their parents being shown round the university. It's the season of Open Days for next years intake. Student volunteers in their red gowns can be seen shepherding the wannabe hopefuls past the main sights. The parents look earnest. Some of the fresh faced wannabes look bored as only teenagers can - others look petrified. The sun beams down from a cloudless sky. It always does this to lure a new generation of unsuspecting teenagers into the first impression belief that Scotland really isn't that wet .... or windy.

There seem to be a tremendous number of these groups although I think they might get even more popular when Netflix broadcasts the new season of 'The Crown' later this month. 2,000 new undergraduates are expected next October and I'm guessing a goodly percentage of them will be checking the place out over the next week or two. The thought that visiting fathers would be flocking to the Timberlake/Tiger sports bar ( if it was open ) for a 'restorative' tipple crosses my mind. Perhaps its not such a bad idea. 

Angus settles down at an outside table at the coffee shop. The waitress brings him the local paper to help whittle away the time while 'The Font' goes off to buy some Brie de Melun from the cheesemonger. The lead story is ( again ) the plan for the new sports bar. In a town where little ever happens this is a story that will run and run. On the inside pages a  truer picture of life in these parts is evident.

How wonderful that pedigree cattle are still paid for in guineas. As a child on a Scottish island I can remember that the local doctor charged in guineas. I'd always thought this was a rather clever way of adding 5% to the price.

A group of noisy English youngsters are seated at the next table. They're planning their winter break. They plan to spend a few nights in a hotel near the Jungfrau.  Based on this overheard conversation I can tell the cool cats amongst you that this is the must go to place when visiting Switzerland this coming ski season    : https://dreibergehotel.ch/en/about/.  

Staircases.

One of the Jack Russells is at the front door when I come down the stairs. She is a rather quiet eight year old lady who likes to start her day with a tickle and a biscuit. She has got into the habit of visiting us on her morning outing. She cleverly leaves Puppy and her eldest sister to go chasing after the crows in the wheat field so that she can , for a few moments at least, be the centre of attention.

The shock news this morning is that Tiger Woods and Justin Timberlake are considering buying the cinema and turning it into an American style sports bar: https://www.bunkered.co.uk/golf-news/tiger-woods-unveils-plans-for-st-andrews-sports-bar/ . The first of their sports bars has just opened in New York and St.Andrews, somewhat improbably, would be the next roll out. Angus is slightly ambivalent as to whether this would, or would not , make a positive addition to the town. In the summer it will be full of high rolling golfers and in winter the student population will keep it on the right side of profitable. If Angus was five years younger he'd consider opening up a decent wine bar in what was the old Salvation Army Hall ( Citadel ?) which in its most recent incarnation has been a lack lustre Scandinavian style restaurant. The building has no neighbours and is directly opposite the library so foot fall would be constant. 'The Font' thinks Angus would drink the profits and that the students idea of a wine bar is somewhere for a glass of sulphurous Pinot Grigio rather than a refined Pomerol.

Two swimmers in the open air pool below the castle. What brave souls !

Workmen already busy checking the stonework on one of the cathedral towers. Health and Safety are now hard at work making sure the ruins don't disgorge any masonry onto unsuspecting passers by.

There were staircases that ran up the inside of the towers. The route for medieval masons to get to the roof. Todays job is to make sure that the inside of the staircases remains secure. 'Never a dull moment in this job' says a man in an orange hard hat. 

Down at ground level a box covering some of the original floor tiles.

Student flu has arrived in town :https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JkA1bhwQkGA

The morning after.

The rain has gone - replaced by blue skies and a stiff breeze. The floodwaters have also disappeared. In fact they ebbed away as soon as the council workmen arrived to unblock drains blocked by leaves and fallen branches.

The feeling amongst the dog walking villagers is that this is the worst rainfall they've ever known. The church treasurer dissents from this view. He thinks 1989 was wetter. 'Not that it bothered me. I had a Land Rover in those days'.  Apropos of nothing his wife informs us that hawthorn trees love wet weather. 'They're very long lived. Some are as much as seven hundred years old '. I feel like asking her how she knows this but opt to remain silent. We are told that there is a cupboard in the village hall that contains sandbag covers in case we're ever threatened by flooding. This is useful to know although flooding is unlikely as we stand on a small hill that falls away steeply on three sides. The church treasurer and his wife almost made it through the downpour to open up the kirk on Sunday morning. Unfortunately they ran into particularly deep water by the old bridge and only extricated themselves by engaging reverse gear and driving out very slowly.

Monday saw the last of the golf. Three days play condensed into one.  A scattering of Spanish tourists gather to watch the proceedings but soon decide that the warmth of a coffee shop is more appealing. In the evening there is a small fire work display but being a school night it's poorly attended.

They're putting in an underground spa and changing rooms at the Royal and Ancient clubhouse. I'm guessing that they'd hoped to have the works done and dusted in time for the tournament. As with all building projects the planned completion time and the actual completion time are two entirely different things. I see on the sign behind the clubhouse Scottie that the work is due to be finished by 'winter' 2023. What a gloriously imprecise timetable. I'm almost sure there was a sign there at this time last year that said everything would be completed by 'Spring' 2023.

A lone television cameraman records the teams as they head back along the fairway to the 18th hole. The small crowd standing behind the railings claps them half heartedly.

This morning we see a group of four young Norwegian golfers in the supermarket. They can't afford to stay in one of the big hotels and are in a B&B at the wrong end of town. They're buying sandwiches. The life of a young golfer ,scrambling to climb the rankings , is far from luxurious.

Water spouts on the Great Lakes :https://earthsky.org/earth/world-record-for-waterspouts-set-over-great-lakes-oct-2023/

Warm and cold.

 

You expect Scotland to be rainy. You don't expect it to be this rainy. A months worth of  rain in a day. Warm air from France meets cold air from Norway and the result is an epic downpour. In London it's in the upper 20's. Here it's half that. The retired villagers Sunday morning church going routine is interrupted by the storm but the Jack Russells are in seventh heaven. They stand on the kerb and  leap in and out of the flood waters.

The road through the village is flooded. As is the 'T' junction by the main road.

By the time we make it to the '5' star hotel we have the road to ourselves.  Non-SUV drivers have sensibly retreated. The Volvo isn't a Land Rover but it takes 18" of water in its stride. The secret to floodwater is maintaining a slow but steady pace. Driving in the raised centre of the road also helps. 

Pity the poor golfers. The rain over the last two days has been so heavy that small lakes have formed on the greens. No chance that the tournament will go ahead as planned. Having lost two days play they'll extend the match until Monday night so that winners can be declared and the £5m prize money can be distributed.

This morning we find that one of the tournaments catering trucks is open. A group of bored security staff are sitting at an outside table . They're ignoring the light drizzle and laughing at a labrador that has come over in search of a sausage roll. I'm glad to say the labradors valour is rewarded.

Back at The last wee house before Denmark the skies are lightening. In fact the weather forecast calls for bright sunshine and soil drying temperatures. This change in the weather must be exceedingly annoying for the tournament organizers. From 'The Fonts' cabin we can see that the rain has washed tons of top soil into the  sea. A plume of sediment has stained the water brown for perhaps a mile out from the shore. 

Warmer climates. Foreigners seem to avoid Genoa but it has one great hotel :https://palazzodurazzo.com/en/home and this restaurant with great views :http://tenutagolfoparadiso.com/ristorante-ortica/