Fish Pails at the Harbour

Back in the mists of Clarks and Startrite sandal summers, when my family went on Highland holidays and the sun shone out of a blue sky for the whole fortnight, I used to wish for just one day of relentless rain so that I had an excuse to curl up in front of a log fire with a book.

Now several decades later, on a summer holiday, my wish is for just one day of relentless sunshine so that I don't have to curl up in front of a fire with a book too often.

We have had some nice days in the last fortnight in Orkney, but today didn't look as though this was going to be one of them.

The sky was leaden with low cloud obscuring the mountains of Hoy and a dampness hanging over the roof tops and streets. But it wasn't raining so I ventured forth with my companionable camera to wander the alleyways and discover ever new and interesting corners of the town in the stillness of an island Sunday morning.
With no Sunday papers available until much later, there was little need for any one to be walking the streets before breakfast: only a few alley cats scuttled across my path.

Evie sands are calling this afternoon.