Gathering of Strikers

We have Boris and Brexit, Nicola and Indy Ref2 and today, strikers for climate change. It’s all happening somewhere near you, and for me, right outside the Dower House. There is an enormous march for climate change setting off for the Scottish Parliament as I type. The police have said it must not go along Princes Street and since the Royal Mile is shut for filming today, the route will be interesting, although probably less so for the bus passengers or other commuters held up or re-routed by the march. I hope the buses and cars brought to a standstill shut off their engines to prevent nasty noxious fumes polluting the world more than normal.

It seems to me to be a huge march with a preponderance of school children waving eco friendly cardboard banners, happy to have a day off school in this Indian summer for which the climate change may well be responsible.

In other matters, the meal out last night was deemed a success. Porty daughter managed to join David, Luca and me, while Jane managed to finish her operating list in time to join us for coffee back at the ranch.

I find when I am outnumbered by my children I have to take a back seat because the subjects of their conversation bear little resemblance to those of the conversations I have with my generation. The baton seems to have been firmly and squarely passed on.

Not only that, but when they do remember that I am still in their midst there seems to be a gentle ribbing of my idiosyncrasies of which you understand I am completely unaware, and remembrances of past events when my parenting fell short of their expectations. The only consolation is that they in their turn will not be immune.