1. My favourite vegetable man has not been at the Farmers' Market on Civic Way recently. It was a relief to find that he has defected to the Pantiles Market and that he hasn't forgotten me. And while browsing in one of my favourite bookshops, the Pantile Papertole -- it's the sort that stocks a jumble of used and new -- I am offered a cup of tea by the owner. That's service for you.
2. At the Dunorlan Park fireworks, a little indie boys wearing a long striped top and his hair gelled down into a lank fringe at the front and up into tufts at the back. He had his arms around two girls. He made me think of a Rolling Stone. They almost fell over three more little indie boys who asked in cracking adolescent voices: 'Are you gonna stay in town after this?' 'He's got to be home by 10 o'clock,' said one of the girls.
3. The joy with which the crowd greeted the fireworks. At first there were some sarcastic oohs and ahhs, but these were quickly replaced by genuine gasps of amazement at high rockets exploding overhead in umbrellas of coloured stars and smoke; and clouds of bright fireflies falling slowly earthwards before twinkling out one by one.
