From which the astute reader can probably gather we ended back at base, where I started reading Ion Idress' Back o' Cairns while the precipitation proceeded in fits and starts and Madam gave the eyes a bit of a rest.
Having recharged the batteries she was up for some form of away from base activity, so we wandered back into town, with a view to taking a walk and seeing whether the photographer could find anything that was worth capturing.
As it turned out, she didn't, largely because the band of cloud that had been delivering the latest series of scuds had moved on over the river and was now strategically located just under the Sun. Once the solar object had slid behind that cloud there wasn't much in the way of colour, so we found a handy seat, meditated on the view and waited until the replete from recent feeds feeling started to move towards something resembling hunger pangs and headed off to The Italian.
As far as Madam was concerned dinner was an option rather than a necessity, and there was no way Hughesy was up for anything resembling a full meal, so the best option seemed to be a risotto del mare, which turned out to be just the trick. Looking at the heaping helping in the styrofoam contained I had a sneaking suspicion there'd be issues with internal capacity, but by the time Madam decided to move inside the contents had been reduced to a few grains of rice that proved difficult to muster into something that would resemble a spoonful.
On the strength of the three nights we've been here a casual visitor staying a week or so wouldn't need to move beyond The Italian and the Bowls Club to find a satisfying variety of evening meals. By the time we're back,of course, The Italian will probably have changed hands (it's on the market with the real estate agent providing prospective buyers they can Learn To Make Pizza Just Like The Wog Boys) and the kitchen staff at the Bowls Club will probably have moved on, but I suspect those are the first two options we'll be checking out.