Morning. It’s official and Newton will not be impressed. There is no gravity in Scotland. Newton’s law does not apply. Here’s the proof. We’ve done a lot of walking over the past two weeks. A lot. Most of it has been relatively straightforward – we’re not busting the Monroes – but we do venture off tracks and head up steep hills. Well, the other day we climbed a hill by the sea (the lovely Mellon Udrigal campsite – no facilities but only £7 a night) and, wherever we walked it was wet. That is, uphill. Not like a stream, just standing water. Uphill. Madness.
The weather has been cruel and kind. It’s still much colder than we remember and, thankfully, when we’ve been out on our feet the rain has kept away. And Mrs Sun has gone out of her way to say hello here and there. When she’s with us it can get garment-strippingly warm. But those affairs are few and far between. Mostly it’s been overcast and rainy.
It’s has, however, been a great tonic. And a bit of a detox. We don’t stop drinking, but we do slow everything down. When we’re on our own C knocks up food that is more vegetables and salad than meat. And porridge is the breakfast of choice. So we’re both feeling better. And with all the walking and running, certainly fitter. That’s all good.
Just finished GoT. If you’ve not seen it and don’t mind gratuitous violence and sex, then it is the best thing that’s been on telly since the West Wing. We’ve just finished Season Five box set. Wow. The last forty minutes is torture, but brilliant TV. You may be aware that Season Six is just about to kick off on Sky. We will wait for the DVD… Along with that, I’m fascinated by this year’s US Masters. Compulsive watching this evening, I think.
So, all’s well. Nothing from the agent ref FtF. I shall press towards the end of the week. And then if that doesn’t come off, it’s Plan B. Which I’m still not clear on. Oh well. Sorry if you’re waiting for the words to dry on the paper.
Have a great week.