Little island, big sky

In the morning we'd gone to Maeshowe in spite of George's protests at going to "another museum" (whatever that meant).

An awe-inspiring place, and a great tour from a guide who declared herself a "history geek". George was quietly pleased with himself at pointing out a cross carved into the wall.

Afterwards, although we'd intended to go to Skara Brae, we took a wrong turn and ended up here, at the Brough of Birsay. The boys made the 1000-year-old Viking village their playground, and we walked up to the lighthouse on top of the island.

It was only afterwards that we realised how lucky we'd been - you can only cross the causeway to the island when the tide's out.

Big big sky