At the going down of the sun ...

That title sums today up - another service of Remembrance in the morning, in our own church, had us going up the hill in a fine drizzle under leaden skies, just as we've been having for at least the past week, and coming out an hour later to unbelievable blue sky and sunshine. And it was standing in the brightness outside the church that a relatively new arrival was talking to me about having been away all week and having felt a big surge of relief and happiness as he boarded the ferry back home, and when I asked if he felt settled here now said that it was thanks in large measure to the welcome he'd had in our congregation - which is just what you want to hear! 

Di was away this week, so we went home for coffee on our own - slight catastrophe when Himself, as tired as I was after our day yesterday, fell asleep with the half-full coffee cup still in his hand ... I think I've got the stain out of the upholstery. On the topic of sleep: I usually sleep very well, but last night was awful - I put the light out at just after 1.30am and then lay, listening to the grandfather clock strike all the hours until 4am before I slept. My mother would have said I was "wound up..."

Nothing daunted, and in the interests of restoring normality, we went out about 3pm and headed south to see the setting sun. (When you live in an east-facing town with hills behind it, you don't get to see sunsets.) We had a lovely walk up the road between the farms, in light that gradually came to resemble stage lighting until, just as we turned to return to the car, the sun slipped down behind Bute - which is the subject of today's photo.

My extra photo is rather odd, being, I think, an early attempt at photoshopping. It shows three WW1 soldiers and together and behind them a seaman in a slightly different scale - because that last man's photo has been added to the three soldiers at a later date. The front right-hand soldier is my grandfather, and the other three men are his brothers, none of whom I ever knew though my grandfather is recognisably my Grandpa. The sailor didn't survive WW1, and this odd little photo is the only record I have of him. When I was 10 my grandfather died and I was told he'd never fully recovered from being gassed slightly while demonstrating to his men the use of a gas mask in a gas chamber. 

Tonight I'm quite early writing this; I mustn't hang about now, as I have a big sleep deficit to make up!