The vagaries of the ongoing pandemic meant that my plans to spend at least some of the summer bobbing about in the Pacific Northwest, fishing for salmon off the back of a floating gin palace, were thwarted for the second year running. Like so many people, I opted instead for a domestic break: in my case in Scotland, staying with friends in Angus, 20 miles north of Dundee.
I had not been to that part of the country before, so Dundee was virgin territory; a strange combination of high culture, faded glory, and drunk topers shouting at each other in the street. In this city of contrasts the handsome, neo-Gothic Episcopal cathedral proudly professed to welcome anyone – “gay, straight, trans, single, married, partnered, single again, old, young, local, non-local” – while being very firmly closed.
