Not for the first time this year, the weekend just gone found Gail and I sitting inside our Torridon cottage, listening to the rain beating against the window as we eeked out our fast diminishing supply of firewood logs in order to stay warm. Meanwhile the radio spoke of a heat wave down south and the papers were reporting fears that climate change-induced water shortages might threaten the future of the Scottish whisky industry.
This photo below was taken during a lull between downpours which lasted, oh, a whole microsecond...
After three days of near continuous rainfall we decided to head back east early on Sunday to find somewhere dry for an afternoon walk.
You'll note the word 'dry' is used here in a relative sense.
Home in Aberdeen, I have decided hole up for the next few days in a sound proof room with no radio, TV or internet access until a certain visitor from the USA departs these shores. Gail is thinking about joining me.
Oh and by the way, in case you were wondering how this particular wire fox terrier dog occupies himself during a wet weekend on the west coast of Scotland, then click here for an explanatory video which, I'll warn you, is not everyone's idea of family viewing...
On Sunday after lunch, once the rain clouds finally cleared, Gail decided we'd go and explore new territory - footpaths across the farmland north of Glen Tanar.
I will say one thing for my owner. She has a pretty good sense of direction and excellent map reading skills. Possibly, she says, because when she was little, no-one ever suggested to her that these were things girls could not do well.
However, on occasion, the route finding can still go pear-shaped.
Sunday was just such an occasion.
We were not far into the walk when the intended track disappeared and I was being carried across a stone wall capped with a barbed wire fence and into a field of sheep.
We met a lady and an exuberant Labrador with a stick clamped between his jaws. The stick (actually half a small tree) became entangled in my lead while the Lab's owner was pointing across the field and telling Gail that the route over the hill to Glen Tanar was straightforward to find and the going was easy.
Neither of these statements proved true.
Confronted with a bog and then a slope covered in gorse (a coconut-scented but notoriously prickly shrub common in these parts) Gail decided to press on regardless.
If I am looking reproachful in the next photo it is because Gail has just forced her way through particularly dense thicket of gorse, carrying me under one arm (and dropping me more than once) while fending off the thorns with the free hand.
Eventually we made it to a proper track and from thereon in it was plain sailing.
The sun came out and Gail switched the phone camera to video mode. Please be aware that the wee film below gives a wholly misleading impression of our afternoon's exertions. But why not come for a good brisk walk with me anyway?
First there was Hamish the Westie. Then there was Bouncing Bertie. Now we have new WFT puppy Nobby. Will he be Nice Nobby or Naughty Nobby? Watch this space!
