Another seagull in another port …

I’m in Lewis, in a village called Bac. It’s ten o’clock and as greyly light as it’s been all day, as we hammered up the A9 in the car belonging to the third member of our retreat group - me, Di and Maureen. We sustained our journey on a huge scone and jam in the House of Bruar and fish and chips (and a wee bottle of wine) on the Loch Seaforth.

Now the three of us are ensconced in the Old Crofthouse with assorted cups of tea and a trio of wine bottles on the shelf and a retreat to come. But shall I go for a walk among the midges first?

Blipping Ullapool pier as we waited to board the ferry. It didn’t seem to have changed in the past year …