Farmers Market, Loch Lomond Shores, Balloch

Why is the first sentence always the hardest part? It seems to take ages and many deletions until I find my way and get going.
Maybe I shall have to write more first sentences and it will come easier?
Or maybe I'll distract myself with irrelevancies and the rest can sneak in behind. Worth a try.

It was a grey day at Loch Lomond today. My niece Olivia was Scottish country dancing in her little red kilt, white blouse and black lace up dancing shoes. Five years old and she's already dancing quite the thing over crossed swords. The Japanese tourists were suitably impressed. She was less impressed with the smoke from the smokehouse stand at the food market that was on. Stalls of square sausage, scotch pies, steak pies, venison burgers, blue cheese (Scottish!), pate and baking. Above you can see the mackerel smoking in a half barrel, then drying on a rack with the Maid of the Loch, Britain's last built paddle steamer, in the background.

Presumably the fish are then used in the smoked mackerel pate that they were also selling. We came away with one pot of said pate and one family sized steak pie which came with a bonus pot of gravy. Just in case it is not quite juicy enough. The pate will be fine on the oatcakes I got yesterday and the steak pie is in the freezer for eating next week. I shall report back - and maybe there will need to be a Scottish recipe bog or two to go with - all these rich, smokey foods are fine with the clouds reaching to ground level and the nights drawing rapidly in.