Strangely magical

We seem to be getting off lightly this particular spell of weather - I've just been watching the news showing dire floods and deep snow, while we had a lot of sunshine and some dramatic skies to look at (and photograph - I took so many today!). I was going to say I began my day with Pilates, but in fact a strange thing happened before I was even out of my bed, when a fairly light-hearted comment on a thread in - strangely enough - Threads resulted in a follow from the richest man in the world. Talk about hair-trigger? And a good thing to balance that was the first official appearance of my #1 son's new venture, The Early Line.  I can't get over how satisfying it is to feel so well-informed before I'm up ...

And then I had to get a move on, hastening down to the Pilates studio in my new, less garish than before leggings, through the empty, sunlit Argyll Street,  joining not only my customary classmates but also the inevitable new faces, most of whom may not last past the strength of a surge of post-Christmas-food remorse. It was crowded to say the least, and interesting as ever to see how we all began toppling off one foot the moment the first person wobbled. 

Despite being pretty tired after that, I was insistent that a walk was in order on this fine afternoon, although I could see the bank of cloud that had lurked over The Far Side and the hills to the north was now beginning to spread south towards us. With this in mind we headed south and went for a modest walk round the Toward Lighthouse point. This took us far longer than it should because I couldn't stop taking photos. I was a bit torn about which one to use, but the main photo, of the snow-covered Arran hills under a looming bank of cloud, struck me as very dramatic as well as pandering to my need to be there again. My extra is looking in the opposite direction, back north up the Firth to the hills I can see from my bedroom, gleaming under their pinker sky which has tinged the sea pink but with the threat of the leaden colour beyond. There were birds at the water's edge burbling gently - a curlew? Certainly some ducks. And there was a diver - a Great Northern, perhaps - and a solitary seal making his way past offshore like a distance breast-stroke swimmer. And apart from that - nothing. It was perfect.

And I was happy because for the first time this winter I had warm hands, proving for the umpteenth time that sheepskin mittens are miles better than gloves.