30 August 2017

The Foundry

For many years it was Perth Foundry, casting metal for Perth and many parts beyond. Now it is a pub. I like it. Newspaper, laptop, peace and quiet and a pint of Guinness, usually. Lovely.

20 August 2017

This is not September

and as Robert Burns did say:
"The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley"


but if I may add another well-worn line to that of Burns
Tomorrow is another day...

12 August 2017

Setting sail until September

Metaphorically


...and navigation permitting

The Black Castle

Their sign calls it a bed & breakfast establishment. The Breadalbane room is £255 per night, or you could slum it in the Argyll room for a mere £180. We admired, then moved on.

11 August 2017

Old walls beneath a heavy sky

Sometimes history and mystery just seem to hang in the air around us

Sunshine time

I awakened with a sense that something was not right. It was early, but I was alone. The house was silent. Where had she gone? I wandered through, calling out for her, but then through a window I could see... Ah, the sunshine had arrived. She likes her sunshine, even enough to sneak and creep away from me, to be sitting there with eyes shut like a lizard on a rock.Whereas I, being more a slothful creature of the shade, retreated in silence and went back to bed.

9 August 2017

Treading gently on a natural mosaic

The effect of water and time - barely imaginable amounts of both - on the Scottish shore


I don't think I made much difference (not only here, but everywhere)

8 August 2017

Scottish Gingers

Moving swiftly on from sluggish sex (previous post), but not entirely unrelated, I have a suspicion some more Scottish Gingers may be on the way. (All pictures get gloriously bigger if you click 'em, in case you didn't know).


And I was a (fairly light) ginger myself long ago, before anyone suspects me of anti-ginger tendencies

Sluggish sex

They are hermaphrodites, apparently, wrapping extravagantly coloured sexual organs around themselves and exchanging sperm from male bit to male bit, then separating and each laying eggs from female bits... if I have understood that right, which I may well not have; but did they really have to do it on my doorstep? In the act of trying to gently transfer them on a trowel to my riverbank I am afaid I may have spoiled their evening, for they parted... No happy ending? Maybe once I had gone.

Scenes between showers

A somewhat unsuccessful shared selfie, but the sky was magnificent


Deep inside Kilchurn Castle


The finest way and place to travel, in my opinion


and never any shortage of fresh water