Hotel

The usual morning pottering around - grown-ups reading, siting in the sun, drinking coffee, staring at the sea, commenting every few minutes what an ace cottage we had, girls playing with their pals and runnning around here, there and everywhere.

Then, in a non-beach day shocker, we drove up to the very north of the island for a change and stopped off on the way back to skim stones into the Kyles Of Bute all the while marvelling at the scenery, the weather and debating the various merits of forehand and backhand skimming.

Fish and chips in Rothesay for tea, eaten on the esplanade with seagulls monitoring our every move, just waiting for our fingers to loosen their grip on the paper or put our food down for a minute, God forbid. As if we'd do that, we're pros.

Walked home in the glorious evening sunshine. The hotel in this photograph is right in the middle of town on the front and looks like in its heyday was quite something. No idea how long it's been like this but it's a pretty prominent landmark. If anyone was to buy it and do it up I'm sure that Argyll & Bute Council would be delighted, it could be splendid again.

Talking of hotels, I always have bit of a giggle when I think of Jamie Hince, that bloke from The Kills who's possibly better known these days for being married to Kate Moss. He's pretty old (70 if he's a day?) and has one of the most ridiculous names in rock and pop. But I think he knows it's shit and just goes with it anyway. With a shrug. And a whatever.