Like a shag on a rock ...

I can't help remembering my head of department for most of my time in Dunoon Grammar when I post this photo (and I don't know if we'd call them cormorants, but forget that for now). Judy was Australian, a formidable woman who'd known Germaine Greer and who was given to using this very distinctive statement - so much so that I can hear her voice even now Apparently it means "isolated". I don't know that this bunch would feel isolated, standing there against the gleaming sea with Bute in the background on a brilliant, bright afternoon.

Church seemed less busy than usual, and because everyone was dashing off to a parish lunch after the service there wasn't a lot of socialising. We didn't go to the lunch - a variety of reasons mainly to do with post-playing exhaustion on the part of Himself, but also because my insides just didn't feel up to it. Instead we came home and talked about the sermon, which was very to the point and powerful. I sat outside after a small piece of toast with chorizo and half a banana (not all together) until Himself woke sufficiently to go for a walk.

I was irritated not long after I took this photo to see a man, not in his first youth, putting up a tent inside the fenced-off area beside the Ardyne car park. The fence was originally put up to deter camper vans and caravans, and he presumably climbed over it more than once to get his stuff over from his car - what drives such people? A sense of entitlement? Arrogance? I couldn't help wondering what his toilet arrangements were going to be, and if he'd be leaving any wee calling cards when he went.

There was a fabulous sky as we ate our dinner tonight - I shall add a photo in extras, as there seem to be plenty left. (BTW - for the sharp-eyed who noticed a couple of night ago that I promised a Christmassy extra and forgot to post it, it's there now.)

I'm sorry I've not been getting round journals much recently - I did a wee bit of catching-up today, but not enough. I'll be back!