Into the gloom

It’s raining, gently but insistently. The children - my granddaughters - didn’t want to come out, and are grumpy. We set off into the still-bright woodland at the foot of Glen Massan, and within minutes they are visible only because Mr PB is wearing a red waterproof.

I have to report that they were considerably cheered by a muddy scramble down to the side of the waterfalls that had become a roaring torrent with di much rain. Nothing changes - a bit of mud, a perilously treacherous path, a whiff of real danger - that’s all it takes to make a wet afternoon enjoyable.