18th august - hey ho . . .

it's yukky out there. drizzle hanging about as if too lazy to actually go to the toilet properly. more a sort of sweat than a fall. it's cold too, a forewarning that autumn is yet to come and what we have left of summer, such as it's been, should not be taken for granted. of course, in the hills, it's not that unusual. no hosepipe bans here. not ever.

I can hear the neighbours packing up their hired hatchback. boots and doors opening, shutting, empty bottles clinking as the detritus is cleared away; footsteps, but no chatter. just a calm and quiet winding-up of a week in the highlands, itself a place of calm and quietude. I will miss the innocent optimism of this young french couple; the excited rendition of their travels when cedric was telling me of the long but enchanting trip through the great glen to inverness and of glencoe and its inherent beauty. lovers, only part way through their life's journey, still with all the energy and enthusiasm of young love.

cedric comes round to thank me for having them. he asks if I would like to inspect the house: bless him. he says he would love to come back, "maybe I bring some friends next time . . .". I haven't the heart to tell him there will be no next time as heather will be moving in to the farmhouse but, nothing's certain in this world.

at this point I'll break off. it won't be long before heather and her dad arrive to help with preparing for the next visitors. let's hope they are half as beautiful in spirit as our departing guests. I will miss them.