They said I wouldn't like it.
They said it always rains up there and how are you going to survive without shops. I said better than you survive without fresh air.
And now the shops come to my door and the rain falls clean and fresh and the air's like champagne.
They said you'll be so isolated. I said yes, it'll be great, won't it?
I phoned and said come and see me.
Don't be smart they said. You know what we mean. You can go to the city. You'll be missing the night life.
Plenty of night life here I said. Bats and owls and foxes and stars. When did
you last see the stars through the sodium haze? In December it's so dark you
could imagine you were in The Planetarium. In June it doesn't go dark at all.
The pale moon shines in a pink and blue sky scattering silver bars in the loch
outside my window.
Ah, but what about the midges? they said. You don't get them down here.
No, they'd suffocate I said.
They phoned and said we flew to Crete in June. They've spoiled it.
Hotels and drunk holiday-makers. And it
rained and we were
The above is reproduced with the kind permission of Nicola Taylor whose copyright it is.
Thank you Nicki.