Costa Clyde

Another summer day, though over the middle of the day it became quite cloudy for a  few hours, and I was amazed this evening when the wonderful flame sky I had photographed at 8.50pm was all grey and leaden-looking at 9.05. I was dragged from sleep this morning - couldn't think what the noise of Himself's alarm was. (Himself likes to get up, he says; I like to get up when I waken of my own accord unless I have huvtaes.) 

The morning sort of vanished. I'd had all sorts of vague ambitions, but time trickled away while I was trying to assist Himself with computer passwords and retrieving same from the key-chain or wherever it is they hide themselves. I did however get round to cleaning the horrid corner of the kitchen where the pedal bin lurks as well as emptying and cleaning out the wee peely bin for the compost. I even ran the indoors doormat under the tap ... and then had my lunch outside, as a reward. At this point, I should add, I was quite excessively grumpy ...

Later, we realised that the cloud which had covered our bit of sky didn't extend all the way to the tip of the peninsula and headed off down there for a lovely amble along the coast. I saw two herons standing like old-fashioned dominies, as well as the usual gossiping groups of eiders in the water. The tide was out, and three excited dogs were reduced to insect size as they pranced at the water's edge barking at seagulls. As we walked back we reflected that actually, despite all the apparent drawbacks, this is an excellent place to live - there were so few signs of people at that moment, and only a few farms showing where they were, and the odd car heading homeward - just us, the black cattle and the seabirds.

And the sea. Just look at it! We stopped for a seat at Toward Sailing Club, one of two memorial benches with decorative cast iron backs, and looked out over the jetty where once or twice in the past I staggered ashore after sailing with our friend Hugh, slightly traumatised by being given charge of the helm while he hung out over the bow to pick up the moorings ...It was warm (about 20ºC at 6pm) and brilliantly bright as we looked over Bute to Arran, and we could have been on the Med.

Just time for the first course of dinner before Compline, and some rhubarb and yogurt after it. A peaceful end to the day.