Dramatic

When I was loitering in bed with a mug of tea this morning, most of the curtains still shut because the light wakens us too early, I listened to the rain battering down and the cars swishing through water and felt for all the world like staying put till the day was done. I didn't, but I'm so fed up with disappointing summer weather (and the fact that I didn't get anywhere sunny for a holiday) that bed seemed a suitable retreat.  

I eventually surfaced and did what was necessary for survival, including talking to my GP about adjusting antihistamines in order to minimise the various allergies I seem to be developing. This particular GP does a good job of cheering me up - and I'm seeing him next week. I used to go for whole school years without ever seeing a doctor; now I feel I'm never away - is this what old people do with their time? 

After that I got stuck into doing some secretarial type work for Himself, proof-reading hymn texts, ironing out differences in font sizes, converting Pages documents to Word - that sort of finicky thing that I'm quite speedy at. I managed to finish the whole lot in two sessions. However, all that sitting at the computer actually concentrating meant that I was stiff and restless, so off we went into the day that had gone from dreary to dramatic. I took the main photo just before we went out; I've not done a thing to filter or intensify the colours and that's exactly what I saw from my window, with the red and white beads that are the Western Ferries bright against the livid cloud menacing us from the north-east. 

Down at Ardyne, we found we'd left the cloud behind us, and after a walk up the hill between the farms I succumbed to the empty beach and calm water and went for a paddle. (Lady Findhorn says I should have gone for a swim, in my undies if necessary. I lack her panache in these matters). Because it was rather lovely I've included a collage of the best moments, including a look north at the cloud which burst over us as we drove into Dunoon. 

The town is throbbing gently this evening, so there is some loud music going on somewhere. I was assured that last night there was a Sunset Ceremony; my friend opined that perhaps the wind was in the wrong direction for me to hear it. When my boys were young I could be sure of waking to the sound of the first pipe band marching up Argyll Street, playing their way to the Stadium, but since the street was calmed with bendy bits and narrows the band haven't done this. There may be other, deeper reasons - I'm not an aficionado. 

Anyway, we have other plans ...