Panic stations!

Imagine my horror.

Back in Aberdeen on Friday morning, after a disappointingly hurried walk around the park Gail did something completely unheard of and deeply worrying.

She announced she was heading off into town, to ..... I can scarcely bear to say it..... to visit a bathroom and kitchen showroom, supposedly in order to "get some ideas".

Never before in the ten years I've known her has my human darkened the doors of a such an establishment, nor spent much time at all thinking about interior design, beyond perhaps admiring the insides of some of the homes we see when visiting our friends' blogs.

Hitherto she has, entirely reasonably in my opinion, focussed her efforts in her free time on finding beautiful places in the natural environment where she and I can go exploring to our hearts' content (e.g. see photo below).

Loch Torridon a week ago

 
And my little heart was quite content with that.

Apparently the new kitchen and bathroom stuff will be for a planned modernisation/upgrade of the Torridon cottage.

WHY??

The way I see it, if the clear Torridon mountain streams are good enough for my bathing requirements, then why not for Gail also? And for any visitors who come to stay? After all, it's not so many days in the year when you have to break the ice before getting wet...

Humans are a mystery aren't they?

I am mightily relieved to report that Gail did not linger too long in the showroom, and normal service was restored in the afternoon when we revisited a favourite Aberdeenshire spot. Here I am, at the summit of Millstone Hill, lord of all I survey. The ridge in the background is Bennachie. 

Panic over. Bertie's in his heaven and all's right with the world!

Flowerdale Glen

None of your unpronounceable Gaelic places names for our nature walk this Friday!

While over on the west coast last week Gail and I went exploring in the environs of Gairloch - first onto the gloriously empty sandy beach and then a gentle stroll up the prettily and aptly named Flowerdale Glen to a half-hidden, waterfall.

We'll let the photos do the talking today.

Thank you once again to our lovely friends Rosy, Arty and Jakey AND Sunny, for hosting the Nature Friday blog hop. Do hop along and enjoy all the other posts.

 

Lift, toss, scramble, repeat

So Gail and I went for a short walk on the hill behind the cottage on Monday. In normal times, the path can be hard to locate. This year, with so few visiting hikers, one very steep part of the path was totally overgrown with bracken as high as Gail's chest, and I, unconvinced that Gail had the situation under control, resolutely refused to proceed onwards through the dense vegetation. 

In such circumstances, I expect my human to pick me up and carry me until we reach a well-defined track again. Unfortunately, on this occasion it seems that Gail was unable to simultaneously carry me under one arm, and brush aside the bracken with the other, while ascending a 25% gradient on the uneven terrain, 

Ever resourceful, Gail adopted a protocol which involved the follow steps: (1) lifting me up, (2) holding me aloft, arms stretched out in front of her, (3) leaning forward and throwing me up the hill, (4) stumbling forwards through the bracken to where I landed. And then repeating steps (1) to (4). 

Obviously, no photos were taken, but in case you have difficulty visualising the situation, I have provided below a sketch of step (3).

I am pleased to report that Gail and I did in the end make it safely back to the cottage with no broken bones.

The next morning, I indicated that I would prefer just a short walk along the road. Although I had suffered no physical damage, the psychological scars might take a few days to wear off...

Some days are not so exciting

Gail has pointed out an omission in my description last week of our Torridon cottage as "a little patch of heaven'.

What I should have said, of course, was that, in the months of July and August, on dull and damp days, it is "a little patch of heaven for the Highland midge".

The cottage is nestled below a boggy hillside, surrounded by birches and Scots pines, and sheltered from the prevailing westerly winds. Perfect conditions then, when the light is low and the atmosphere humid, for massed ranks of our local species of biting midge to come out and party in the garden.

And it seems they did not get this year's memo about social distancing. So when, on Sunday morning, Gail got all togged up for a spot of shed painting, I opted to stay indoors behind closed windows and catch up on some zzzzzzz.

Only later, when the weather had brightened up a bit and the midges had retreated to their boggy dwelling places to hide from the sun, did I emerge to supervise Gail's work in the garden.