RUFFLED FEATHERS AND LAIRS

There was a fierce wee breeze down by the loch today, deliciously cooling for me, but feather-ruffling for the swans. 

Despite others'  attempts to get my feathers ruffled, I swim smoothly on.  Was at Lochwinnoch today for the cheerful task of viewing the new woodland burial site.  It's very bonny. I was so tired I could have laid down there and then, but that might have embarrassed the 'technical officer'.  I only learned recently that 'lair' is a Scots word for a funeral plot; I thought it was English.  The Professor keeps me right about such things.