Horizons

This morning I woke remembering two things. The first, insanely, was that this was the day that the Atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima - Transfiguration Day in the church Kalendar. Then, almost immediately, that the exam results were out today, and that the two older grandchildren would be receiving texts or emails in half an hour ... and I sat, looking at social media, waiting for news, wondering if they'd tell me ...

Alert: Proud Grandma moment. They aced it, Catriona with her string of top Highers, Alan with his National Fives (I keep having to remind myself what they call O Grades Standard Grades these days). They're clever, that pair, and they've both done well. Catriona burst in with an explosive text and a screen shot of her message; Alan less exuberant but none the less pleased - like Andy Murray telling you good news? 

Outside, the sun shone and the wind blew. I hung out a washing - the laundry basket proved to be full of shirts, which danced obediently outside and were dry in no time. And then, after coffee, we decided it was silly to wait till it was raining to go out, just because we wanted lunch at a conventional time, and headed to the blue skies above Toward Lighthouse. We were near the point and passing some houses when a man pruning a hedge greeted us and turned out to be in Himself's Pilates class - I hadn't recognised him in a cap. After some chat over the hedge about the history of his house (I've often wondered!) we yielded to his suggestion that we come in and see his garden, and it was a good hour or more later before we left, having been joined by his wife and glasses of Nozecco and sat in the garden talking about life, the universe and education. So much for our resolution to have a quiet day with no socialising ...

Before we walked back up the road, we took a detour onto the shore to see the waves driving up the Firth on the south wind. That's when I took the photo, which shows the foghorn house (now a private dwelling) and the view down towards Cumbrae and beyond. The sea was a wonderful, foaming green/blue, the rocks pinkish tinged. It was glorious.

We never did get lunch. We had an oatcake and a cup of tea when we got in, and I made bread for the morning. I read the Sunday paper. I fell asleep. But at least we had dinner at a sensible hour and it's another 20 minutes till midnight, and this is A GOOD THING.