a full on day beginning at 6am - and a car dash to Kyle to pick up the 07.25 train to Inverness, via Dingwall.

got to Dingwall, had hydrotherapy, and a wonderful 'target' massage, involving physio pressing the tops of my shoulders with a combination of thumbs and elbows, whilst stitting in the warm waters of the Puffin pool.

got to Inverness to pick up the 17.30 bus back to Kyle.

Lachie was looking particularly dapper today, in a green tartan waistcoat, together with white shirt, tie and fine wool trousers - but I've yet to pluck up the courage to point my camera at him when sitting at the stance, waiting for the bus.

Other regulars were there, and a few tourists, one of whom was sporting a rather interesting mustard, chunky woolen, cable knitted, peaked cap. This particularly caught my eye, and meant I could sneakily take his photograph from the safety of the bus, whilst he was talking to his friend, waiting to board.

pretty much as soon as the bus departed, I managed to fall asleep, missing most of the conversation between Lachie and the driver.

I woke up again near Cluanie Inn, where we picked up two walkers. They seated themselves directly behind the driver, whose conversation was concentrated from that point onward, on the amounts of snow we'd had this year; what the snow had been like yesterday, when he'd walked up from behind Slighachan; how cold he'd got just walking up to 400m one afternoon in July from Glenbrittle, whilst his wife sunbathed in the garden just below; how strange the weather had been one particular year when he climbed along the Ridge, and how strange and unlucky he'd considered it, when he'd kicked over a small stone and trodden on a spider whose home had been about as far as a spider's could be, from the general human population.

Lachie remained silent throughout.