Harris Tweed boots.

 

Saturday morning. It's cloudy and, thanks to a gentle southerly breeze,  a tad humid. We stop for five minutes and watch the gannets diving for breakfast. They take off from the jagged rocks, soar up, tuck their wings back and then plunge vertically into the water. This is done over and over. The sea a churning mass of birds. Two young deer observe us from the field. They think they're invisible but their ears stick out above the top of the wheat sheaves. They look comical and we laugh aloud. 

A dozen dolphins are enjoying themselves leaping and pirouetting in the dark water. We see them here once or twice a month. Just offshore there's a cleft in  the rock which suddenly plunges thirty or so feet into deep, cold, lobster rich water. Presumably the dolphins have been attracted here by the same shoal of fish the gannets have been feasting on.

Puppy joins us to see what's going on. We meet the local GP who tells us she's seen three Orcas out beyond the point. I find a stick for Puppy who is much more interested in playing than she is in the local wildlife. The farmers wife comes down the track for her morning swim. She's followed at some distance by the middle sister and then some way even further behind by the grande dame of the family who has left her warm spot by the AGA.

Harris Tweed footwear makes its debut in the kilt shop next to the tourist office. This design is probably more practical in sunny ( and dry ) California than here. Neither of us have ever seen Harris Tweed boots before. Opinions are divided.

The delicatessen is looking very summery.

We're at the time of the year when our journeys into town have to be done and dusted by 10:30. After that the influx of day trippers makes parking impossible.

The typing doctor :https://www.sensible-med.com/p/what-matters-is-how-you-use-it

Scotlands oldest tree :https://scotlands-yew-trees.org/yewtree/fortingall/