Blackwaterfoot

This absurd weather is affecting the way I normally think of What We Do On Arran - things like hiking up glens, even - in the past at least - climbing the mountains. But today? Today I went to another beach and had another swim.

Not that we dashed off first thing to do this. No: instead I went outside to the sunny garden and did Italian; we had coffee in the garden while wondering what critter would appear from the bushes where there was great rustling - it was a large grouse. I phone Inverclyde Royal to ask about my eye (I suspect the air-con in the car; it’s been worse since Saturday.)

I also put together a picnic. If we’d just eaten at the cottage we’d never have gone anywhere. And then we drove over the middle of the island to Blackwaterfoot. I used to love going there occasionally as a child (on a bus - we never had a car) because of the miles of fine sand and the strange black dykes of stone upon which we sat, dried cozzies and climbed. I used to leap from them onto the sand.

Today we ate just beside the village, put the picnic stuff back in the car, and thus un encumbered walked barefoot over the sand to where there were no people… and I got my cozzie on and had another careful old lady swim. Eventually we wandered back, through the village to the car. Driving home gave us the dramatic descent down The String Road to Brodick, the familiar hills to our left looking quite different from the other side.

It’s still warm tonight - I think it may be the warmest evening yet. We’ve had a substantial dinner and wine, and I feel I may fall unconscious shortly. See what sea-bathing does to you?