That's the first thing I knew this morning. I checked on my phone, still in bed. More asleep than awake. The birds out the window chattered against a dull grey backdrop. It was 440.
I went back to sleep.
St Andrews is trying desperately to skip Spring and get straight to Summer. Mornings like this don't help. There's a lazy chill thrown to shore by the sea.
The sun's come out now though. There's a new restaurant around the corner to try. Lunch beckons.
I'm writing, editing and selling the odd bottle of wine.
The Sox lost. I can live with that.
It's a long season, and the better for it.