A little light relief…

…and I mean that literally. After several days of leaden skies, which necessitated keeping the lights on all day if we wanted to do anything, it was a joy to wake this morning to a clearing sky and watch the sun drive away the last of the clouds. Fired by all this unaccustomed light, I headed out for a walk to the post office to post some cards and buy a few items and took my camera with me. It’s still remarkably mild for the second half of November, though I hope I’m not tempting fate by saying so, and the stroll up the hill to the post office and back was sheer pleasure. Unfortunately my camera battery ran out before I even reached the halfway point, so the final photos are of the glorious sunset we had on Saturday before the cloud took over.

The last rose of summer?

At least the birds will be well-fed this winter

A real Highland cottage

Ben Loyal with his nightcap on

Sunset reflections in the Kyle

Red sky at night...

Nor sure about the sailor, but it was my delight...

Hints of eternity

Family and friends sometimes ask us why on earth we make one of our twice-yearly visits to Scotland at the very tail-end of the year. What makes us, they wonder aloud, head north as the hour goes back, the dark evenings close in and winter approaches?

The answer is simple. This glorious, rugged and unspoilt landscape is breathtakingly beautiful at all times of year and in all weathers, and the warmth of the welcome we receive from our friends and neighbours is undimmed by the vagaries of the weather. The bonus is that there are no midges!

Because we travelled up by car this time, I’m able to drive myself about while we’re here and this morning I headed across the Kyle causeway to Knit and Natter. Halfway across I stopped to gaze at Ben Loyal, swathed in dark, turbulent cloud and to try, of course, to capture the scene.

After a very enjoyable morning of coffee and cake, chatting (and coughing) and even knitting, I headed home, but on a whim stopped in a lay-by to visit again what must be one of the most wonderfully located cemeteries in the world. It stands alone, close to the causeway, looking out over an austere but beautiful landscape of sea and mountains that has something of eternity about it. Like the war memorial, high on the opposite hill, at which I attended the service of  remembrance last Sunday, this simple cemetery, in its stunning setting, catches the attention and focuses thought in a very profound way.

Eventually I dragged myself away and drove quietly home, my mind filled with a kaleidoscope of images and impressions. This glorious corner of the country gives us so much enjoyment, but it also makes me think and that must be good.

 

Northward Ho!

After a really lovely week of family visitors, culminating in the warmest Halloween on record in the UK, we’re suddenly being reminded that it’s November after all. DD and her family are safely home again and here in Wales the temperature has dropped drastically during the day, the wind is getting up and the rain has started to lash the windows.

It’s the kind of weather that usually  turns one’s mind to thoughts of semi-hibernation, but not in our case. Instead, as we recover from a busy week of talking and laughing and eating and playing board games, DH and I are simultaneously making preparations to head off on Monday on our autumn migration to the north coast of Scotland.

DD and I bonding over my fiendish birthday jigsaw

It will be a shorter visit than usual, but we’re really looking forward to the journey through such glorious scenery and to seeing our friends again. While DH is busy with the database project he’s working on for a local group, I’ll be settling down to knit and natter with the best of them, getting on with a sadly-delayed pair of socks for him, while catching up on all the news. I’ll also have lots of time to make up for my recent shameful neglect of your blogs and find out what you’ve been doing with yourselves whilst I’ve been otherwise engaged.

The very small campervan won’t be transporting us this time. Instead, for both speed and comfort, we’re travelling in the extremely small car. This means that I’m packing with great care and selectivity and DH is reconciling himself to not taking almost all his tools with him, as he usually tries to.

It will be wonderful to see the North-West Highlands again, knowing that when we return, it will be to the new house, which already feels as though we’ve lived here for much longer than three weeks. Who said retirement is boring?

Feeling welcome

Well, I did it! DH left after lunch yesterday to collect his mother for her first visit to the new house, leaving the place not exactly ready for visitors, to put it mildly. They arrived back late this afternoon to find everything clean and tidy after a truly gargantuan effort on my part. I'm shattered!

Yesterday afternoon I was busy ironing some very creased curtains when there was a loud knock on the front door. When I’d finally found the key (we always use the back door) I opened it to see a very small boy holding up two pieces of paper for me to take. Behind him were two slightly older brothers, who had actually drawn the pictures on the papers, and their smiling parents with a box of chocolates for us.

They are our immediate neighbours to the left and had come to welcome us. The boys' mother said she'd try to keep the noise down, to which I replied that I'm totally inured to the sound of children playing and in any case am starting to go slightly deaf. Such nice people. I think we are going to be very happy here. It’s like old times to have children’s drawings stuck to the door of the fridge.

Tomorrow DD and her family arrive for a week’s stay, so I’ll be listening to music practice and playing board games rather than blogging for a while, but it will make a wonderful change from moving furniture and unpacking. See you anon…

PS  It was remiss of me to have omitted to mention (blame my bad memory) our first visitors a week previously, who arrived at the back door with a bottle of wine, just as we were bringing in yet more furniture. They are our next-but one-neighbours. We feel very fortunate to have landed where we are.

The river of time…

…is running even faster than the stream behind the house after the rain of the past couple of weeks. I can’t believe it’s a whole fortnight since I last posted. You must all think I’ve fallen off the planet or got trapped behind the last pieces of furniture still waiting in the garage for us to have the time and energy to bring them the final few yards into the house.

Thanks to the sterling efforts of DH and my wonderful brother-in-law, the van with the magic tailgate was very fully utilised on Move Friday and by the time we had to return it, our capacious garage closely resembled a second-hand furniture warehouse. Sadly the weather hasn’t been very willing to co-operate and we’ve had a week of frequent and heavy showers, which we’ve had to dodge almost every time we decided to bring in another item or two.

Despite this, the fable of the tortoise and the hare has proved true yet again and we’ve slowly but surely moved all but a couple of very heavy items to their proper places. These will have to wait until half-term, which begins a week today, and the visit of DD and her husband and two strapping sons, who have rashly promised to help.

Only then, when the dresser is finally in place, will I be able to unpack the last of the boxes and put the living-room properly to rights.  Nevertheless, in spite of the residual chaos, the new house is already starting to feel like home, and the car and the very small campervan no longer twitch as they pass the turning which leads up the hill to our old house.

As for DH and me, we’re tired, aching and dotted with scratches, cuts and bruises from the unaccustomed manhandling of awkward pieces of furniture, yet there is a real sense of achievement at the end of every day. We’re definitely going to enjoy living in this house.