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Today, if you will permit me, a little tale. Not about politics. No sweeping condemnations. No tea and scandal, their ancient custom.

I was at the top of Calton Hill in Edinburgh earlier this week, broadcasting to an astonished nation - or at least that portion of the a.n. watching the lunchtime telly.

Pausing between sundry appearances, I glanced towards the Nelson Monument where all was industry and activity.

Inquiring of one of the workers, I learned they were reinstalling Edinburgh's Time Ball that very day.

My interlocutor was hugely enthusiastic and well-informed.

He reminded me of the Time Ball's original purpose which was to advise shipping in the Forth as to when it was precisely one o'clock, thus replicating visually the sonic effect of the One O'Clock Gun.

But the very passage of time had jeopardised this purpose.

According to Edinburgh World Heritage, the ball was now descending with an "ignominious thunk".

So repair work was instigated with two Scottish firms taking the lead: Ritchie's the clockmakers together with the foundry expertise of Charles Laing and Sons.

My companion told me of the precision required to return the repaired Ball to its site.

Further, he informed me with evident pride that the mechanism of the Time Ball will continue to be wound by hand.

There was something about that information which satisfied me. Something, at least, has escaped the relentless machine.

Shipping in the estuary may no longer rely upon the Time Ball. The recession is not one whit more tolerable for its presence.

I know it is utterly irrational but we are more than calculating machines. I am glad that Edinburgh's Time Ball has been repaired.

It should be fully in action by the end of August - and I look forward to its descending with an elegant glide when next I am broadcasting from Calton Hill.

PS: As you may have discerned from the foregoing, the recess is upon us at Holyrood. This blog, consequently, will slip gently into the summer equivalent of hibernation (aestanation?).

I would hope, however, to post from time to time.

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Took a stroll through the Main Hall at Parliament.

Just the usual scene. Reception staff. MSPs meeting constituents. Face painting. Clowns.

Truly, it was a splendid sight, all those children born on the 1st of July 1999, eagerly
thronging their Parliament.

The announcement system which usually signals tedious things like fire alarms and votes on legislation was deployed to advise kids where to go for the official photograph.

And to mop up the odd stray.

The official ceremony to mark ten years of devolution was fine and dandy. The Queen exhorted the Scottish Parliamentarians to strive for a better Scotland in the decades ahead.

This is her sixth visit to the Scottish Parliament, the third to the Holyrood building.

The First Minister delivered a notably inclusive speech in which he stressed that, although there were fundamental differences between the parties in the chamber, they were each motivated by what they believed to be Scotland's best interests.

OK, there's a bit of controversy about the relative paucity of MSPs in the chamber to hear Her Majesty and the FM.

Apparently, 84 had registered to attend - out of a total of 129. Constituency engagements, official business and pre-booked holidays claimed the rest.

Should there have been more there? Perhaps.

Will we remember this fact in ten years time? No, not in ten days.

I will, however, remember the eager anarchy of the July 1 offspring.

C,mon mum, let's join the queue to get a balloon. Aw, dad, everybody else has had their face painted.

Well done, them. And well done to the Parliamentary staff who contrived to attract to Holyrood 143 out of the 163 children born in Scotland ten years ago to the day.

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