Hot Dogs But Nothing For The Barbecue
This sudden spell of good weather seems to be having an odd effect on people. Yesterday a Glasgow taxi driver gave me a short lecture on the staggered correlation between climatic change and female fashion.
"You see the lassies aren't showing much skin today," he said in a tone of resigned disappointment, "because they didn't know it was going to be sunny. But tomorrow..."
I'm not sure what he said then. His lips were smacking too loudly and when he lifted one hand from the steering wheel to run a finger along the inside of his collar I was sure we were going to end up in the Clyde.
Today the sunshine continued and the Zed family were at Nairn beach by ten o'clock in the morning. To be specific, it was the East beach, which is where you are allowed to let pet dogs run free across the two mile stretch of golden sand. By chance we had brought our own dog - Rascal - and so let him off the leash. He wagged his tail, scampered about fifty yards and then returned to our side with his tongue hanging out of his mouth like a damp ribbon. Clearly the heat was getting to him too so there was nothing else for it but to teach him how to swim.
"Chuck him in the water and see what happens, " I told the children, proving that my close study of animal psychology has not been wasted.
Well, he surpised his all with his mastery of the doggy paddle. I suspect he has been having secret lessons.
Then back to Inverness with plans for a garden barbecue. Alas, the entire population of the Highlands seemed to have had the same idea. The supermarket shelves were stripped bare of anthing resembling fresh butcher meat. No bread rolls either. Just one bag of limp iceberg lettuce.
Still, it's good for the diet and if the weather keeps up I might have to show some skin myself.
Who would want to eat after that? 
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