Bringing Home the Tweed

It is hard to leave Harris without some lengths of tweed, although what I shall do with them is open to question. There are the usual suspects of cushion or IPad covers, bags, pencil or glasses cases, but fortunately there is not enough material for any items of clothing, unless for a doll.

The book was a present to me from His Lordship for tracking down his lost camera.
It is a book with paintings of Harris by a husband and wife in quite a contrasting style. His are more worked up sketches and very representative, while hers, painted on silk, are abstract, in swathes of vibrant colour, golden sand and different hues of blue representing the ever changing sea.

His Lordship, smitten with a man cold, and not just any man cold but an HL one, is still au dehors de combat and snug in bed behind a door which I enter at my peril to proffer hot drinks and fruit.
Judging by the sneezing and coughing I hear, he could possibly infect thousands, but hopefully I will not be one of them- the show must go on.