Take away the Bothy you first thought of...

Hoy again - I'm addicted. Pier awaiting. Seven folk get off boat. One gets on, Maggie fae Orgil Cottage. The finest of showers, the type which will pearl a spider's web. High water, slippery slabs, so we walk around the field edge. Eventually there's no choice as we slither down into the redware.

Cross the stooped threshold; set and light the 58yr old Rayburn. Ritualistic. Next store the provisions, take in wood, put on the kettle. Coffee and sugary Argo doughnuts (first of the year). Rain persisting so the Current Mrs Creel makes a muckle pot of soup. Post broth CMC glides into the ben end to frighten the piano; I enter, through a side door, into my fresh smelling Tom Devine book.

Walk up to the Hoy Kirk, down the high road, ahead the expanse of Scapa Flow.

Time to make tea.

Later we'll go to bed and dream of finches