Eriskay

On the beach! Not Nevil Shute though. More Bonnie Prince Charlie, as this was the exact beach where Cherlie and his merry band landed in August 1745. No good was going to come of it. Except for some decent sad songs, I guess.
So, a day of travelling - first over to Berneray, and then down through the Uists and Benbecula and thence (fine word) to Eriskay for the ferry to Barra. And I finished Alan Johnson's story of his childhood, 'This Boy'. A really remarkable and moving story. The sooner he chucks in politics and becomes a full time national treasure like his sofa-mate, Michael Portillo, the better. Then again, the Commons has a need of people like him.