Bothy dwelling

Ah, this is obviously some strange use of the word safe that I wasn't previously aware of.

Angus demos his sub-woofers. Gut pounding. Claire and I sanitise the house for the imminent arrival of our Airbnb guests. By 12, I am alone.

I finish off the cleaning, stick signs on doors, write instructions on pieces of paper. Then it’s time to prepare my own howff. I light the fire in the bothy, install steps, mat, pillow, and sleeping bags.

Deb and Carl arrive. I’ve baked them bread and sell them eggs. Tom G drops in on one of his occasional motorcycle outings. We sit in the bothy and vaguely plan an outing up a hill. Again.

The bothy is warm and dark. I have found a legacy bottle of Dunkertons cider. Soon, I am drowsy and clamber up the ladder. I fall asleep listening to Fit The First.