A Windy Sunday

Sunday, so it must be an early visit to the Temple of Toast.
My extra image is what the toast for His Lordship looked like but my blip if the only colourful thing we pass on our walk there- the basement wall of the local Pawnbroker.

We had such a lovely evening last night with Poppy and Mike from Orkney despite the cool house. I found a radiant heater which worked well after the years of dust burned off and which heated the sitting room to such an extent that I managed to shed my cardigan. I watched for signs of hypothermia in our guests but coming from the northlands they are hardy souls and there was not one noticeable goosebumps or shiver.

It a little different today as the wind picks up and invades our space. His Lordship and I have picked spots in rooms where the sun shines in, creating slightly cosier corners, and are reading the Sunday papers, although I have taken the precaution of wearing a down coat.

I have texted Poppy suggesting that she perhaps gives the traditional fish and chips a miss on the MV Hrossey tonight as she heads back home over the Pentland Firth in the gale. It would be such a shame to loose the meal after paying for it.