Time to go ...

A last look at Arran from the deck of MV Catriona seems an appropriate way to end my holiday blips, in a quick entry before I crawl into bed. We tend to use this short crossing from Lochranza to Claonaig rather than the Brodick-Ardrossan ferry one for a variety of reasons, one being that it's a turn up and go ferry without booking, another (my personal one) because it avoids the abrupt transition to the more urban environment of the Ayrshire coast and instead lands us on the fringes of Argyll with a two-hour drive through the countryside to Dunoon.

However, I can't help noticing the differences. It's not just that Arran is an island, and one full of memories for me; I think much of the visual impact is a result of geology. So many of the buildings on Arran - the old ones at least - and the walls beside the road over the many little bridges, and the beaches themselves, come from the red sandstone that is so much a feature of the geology, along with the golden granite of the caldera. Here, in Cowal, the rock is grey and schist-like, the walls built of grey, elongated stones, the beaches darker, less sandy. And on that particular journey, the surroundings match my mood.

Childish, I don't doubt. But on this chilly autumn night, with the suitcases only half-unpacked in the hall and an early trip to the supermarket pending, I'm already missing my carefree island week. And then there's the small matter of a pandemic ...