Rosemarkie

At 7.15 this morning, the phone rang and we knew who it was. The hospital gave us the news we'd been expecting but dreading. I was so sorry that Fred hadn't been there for his father's passing, but perhaps it was a blessing in that being there may have been very tough, too. Strangely, but comfortingly, at the very moment the phone rang, Fred had been dreaming of his father – they'd been discussing financial matters in the kitchen with deep snow outside the window. It was a vivid dream.

We raced up to Raigmore and said our goodbyes. It was heartbreaking. Heath had been ready to go, which softens the blow, but it still feels too soon.

Shell-shocked, we picked up the dog and drove to Rosemarkie for a walk along the beach. Gally was insistent on a continuous game of stick and had a few dips in the sea. We managed some lunch at the Fortrose Cafe (Mc macaroni for me – veggie haggis mixed in with macaroni cheese) where we invited a lone, drooked walker to our table as it was a full cafe. He's walking the coast of the UK! Talking to him drew us out of our thoughts – it was a balm.