BM2

My head feels like it’s been battered by a slice of lemon wrapped round a gold bar. The morning is spent in Aggie’s porch with tea and coffee.

Mid afternoon, a walk west, past the done, up onto the hill, and down to Tigh Scoraig. There’s no one there. At Gregor’s I bump into Ewan hauling a trailer of ephemera. I help him unload and then join him and Fudge for a cup of tea.

Over the hill to Achmore. Gin. Then a bottle of Bog Myrtle beer that has been sitting since before John died. It’s clear and lovely, but not a drink to overdo. Erich knocks up a tomato and gnocchi extravaganza with an excess of cheese. We almost make it until midnight.