Happy place

We’re on Arran. It’s not now the journey of my childhood - the taxi to St Enoch’s for the train to Ardrossan, the fist sight of the steamer - the Glen Sannox , perhaps looming over the pier, the plush-covered seats in the lounge, even (because it was a long time ago) the single car on the deck …No. Now we drive - northwest up Loch Eck, round the head of Loch Fyne and south to Inveraray, Furnace, Lochgilphead, Tarbert - then across the wee road to Claonaig, to board a ferry with my granddaughter’s name (MV Catriona) for the half-hour sail to Lochranza. Very different - but the mountains are as always, the scent of bog myrtle remains, the magic is as powerful as ever.

We’re in the old part of Auchrannie resort. After organising our room we went out for a walk to recover from the drive, and this is when I took this photo of Himself standing under a tree that was there when I was a child, the Rosa Burn Bridge behind him, the golf course laid out around him, and watching over all, Goatfell which never changes. Then it was dinner. .

Now I’m watching the news and drinking peppermint tea and contemplating sleep. It’s very seductive…