We're so s ll l l l o o o o o www w today. The joys of village dial-up. No broadband out here in the boonies, however the compensations are various and many. The weather is far better, the midges are nowhere in evidence ( pinch me, I'm dreaming - Argyll is synonymous with midges, no?) and we had a chilly picnic on the beach with a champagne-fuelled swim in Loch Fyne. Day one of the holidays and we're off to a flying start. Pass the yellow jersey, Lance. However, there was a very, very, very dead seal beached on the machair along from the favoured picnic spot. So dead was it that you just knew that if you'd managed to scoop and scrape it into one of the beach's washed-up fish-crates by virtue of much mouth-breathing, you'd probably throw up when it disintegrated under your shovel.
The sun came and went all day, but when it was out it was enough to make us pretend that it was really summer rather than this wet soggy facsimile we're all enjoying this year. However, there's something so ludicrously optimistic about hurling one's naked self into Scottish lochs that never fails to make me truly aware that I must be On Holiday now.This is the third swim of 07. The first being on New Year's Day.
Had to mention that.
Right. I'm gone. Dial-up is too expensive to allow for impeccable prose and careful composition. There shalt be no staring out of windows for inspiration during these E-pisodes. A quick, pithy scrawl and out. At least, that's the plan.