I think we've driven through the majority of the important Scottish glens today.
We took the scenic route between Gairloch and Bellshill. Which meant lunch at Fort Augustus.
I'll do the holiday blog thing later - and I didny get up a hill, so don't hold your breath for a trip report - but it was everything a holiday should be, in the sense of relaxed and effortless. (Mind you, if your definition of "what a holiday should be" includes good weather, then look away now.)
Problem was this morning, when we were leaving.
I was up about 8, and took the dugs down to Gairloch beach to give them a wee run for an hour or so before the long drive home.
It's a wondrous place. If it didn't exist - and, er, you were a dug, you'd make it up to impress your pals.
So, I'm winding down with the whole tennis ball for Molly and frisbee for the Wee Black Dug thing; the two of them have been pounding the sand for an hour and it's time to go, and I've met three or four other like minded dog folk on the beach...and just as I'm leaving I meet another chap with a labrador...and I'm sure he didny mean anything by it, but I'm saying to him - well we've been here an hour or so...we've a long drive home...we'd better awa'...and he says (looking out into the sea, with all the dugs following his gaze)...how could you ever leave here?