The other night I got back at 1am and my father was up listening to the shipping forecast.
Dogger. Light winds, moderate or good.
Fisher. Easterly winds, moderate or poor.
After a while he said, "wait, here come the really good names of the Scottish ones..."
There was a look of mania in his eyes that I had never seen before and was quite unsettled by.
We sat for 40 minutes until it finished, the national anthem was played and the radio wished us a good night. Then we went to bed.