“£185, done,” snapped the auctioneer at the fish market, as he swiftly moved onto the next box of ice covered fish that were filling the hall. Only three buyers were there for the hundreds of boxes of fish, but they were all sold in a brief space of time.

My hopes of buying a fish or two for the freezer were dashed. One very large cod cut up into portions would be manageable. And maybe affordable. But not about the 10 of them which were in the box and at that price too. We would be having fish and chips for ever. Not counting the fact we had to get the fish home while they were still edible.

The fishermen off the trawler were heatedly discussing the Brexit conundrum. Nearly all, counter to most Scottish voters it appeared, were for the breakaway as they were sick of seeing “their” fish stocks plundered.

Breaking off to chat to us, one of the fishermen turned out to be an ex-dairy farm worker. He and John bonded when once he knew we had been in milk and he told us rather a naughty story of when he was milking and had failed to check, after cleaning out the bulk tank, that he had secured the tank with the bottom “bung”. It was only after several cows had gone through the milk parlour that he realised there was rather a direct correlation between the milk from the cows and the milk lake on the floor.

Come the end of milking, the bulk milk tank contents looked considerably less than normal. So, craftily, he directed the hose that he washed the dairy floor out with, into the tank to top up the contents. The milk tanker arrived, the milk collected and crucially, as usual, a sample taken of the milk. This happens every time so that if there is any contamination, it can be traced back to the offending farm. Next day, the farm owner, queried whether there had been anything out of the ordinary at milking time, to which our now trawler fisherman replied, nothing that he knew off.

It reminded me of when I was young, I used to attend a small church Sunday school each week. I vividly recall bringing home a card from each meeting which illustrated the Ten Commandments. One of the cards puzzled me and needed some careful explanation from my mum to put into its true context. On the card, a milkman, clad in white overall type of coat, and peaked cap, was carefully pouring a can of water into a milk churn. Thou Shalt Not Commit Adultery, the words thundered. It is all so clear now.