It would seem that everything was going according to plan.
The weather was good, the protesters came in decent numbers,
there were flags, banners full of angry slogans, candles.
And yet it felt uneasy somehow.
Maybe it was because decent people rarely come out in public,
and if they do, they do so with a certain sense of embarrassment,
unless they are angry enough.
But this time, their cries, compared to the noisy groups of fans
just passing by the square on their way from the stadium to the pubs,
were somewhat stunted and died away quickly.
Or maybe it was due to some feeling of inadequacy. After all, it is just
a small city in the north of Scotland. Or perhaps guilt, as Castlegate
is nothing like Snake Island.