A helping hand

Our older grandson gives his grandad a hand with his case as we join the procession to the railway station before 8am today. At a time when Dunoon is dead other than at the ferry terminal, the main road is bustling in this London village; yesterday morning when we were not up early I heard the first purposeful feet pass the window when it wasn't yet light.

And now we're home, missing our family,not missing the rain which unusually is battering London on this calm, dry evening in Dunoon.

A lovely, lovely weekend.