A young old man.

In some ways, I don't think that this looks like my dog - he looks quite sombre and serious.

We went for a walk along the beach this morning before I went to the haridresser's, and Dimairt had a ball going for the stick in the water, as usual. It was also great to have the beach to ourselves - too early for the many visitors who have descended on the village this weekend (can't blame them; the weather is fantastic).

When I went to Dot's to get the hair done, she told me just to bring Dimairt in. Although there were plenty of shades on the car windows, I have been feeling nervous about Dimairt in this heat, especially since someone from the village tragically lost her dogs recently when she left them in the car in Inverness.

Anyway, he was happy, had a big drink of water, and then upchucked the lot on the carpet. While we were running to get towels, he moved to another part of the carpet (not the lino, you'll notice) and upchucked again. Dot took it all in her stride, because she likes Dimairt, and because (dare I say) it was mostly sea water. I don't think that there will be too much of a niff.

Oh dear. Anyway, another gorgeous day here on the West coast. I can cope with this, and more. I want to be on holiday, though. Four more days!