Did someone mention a hurricane?

For the first time ever, the forecast for the week ahead in clachtoll predicted rain, rain, rain so we needed to squeeze the pants out of the wee sunny window on Sunday for all it was worth. Even G'Ma Sinclair (a.k.a Scottish Grandma or Tartan Grandma because the kids think she out-Scottish's all of us put together) was seen hovering over some sand, even though she detests the stuff.

Granda lost track of time in a rock pool, outlasting many of the kids, Tess lost track of time jumping waves, swimming and talking to humans, marine life and dogs alike, sam lost track of time with the beasts and birds, I lost track of time trying to lever in the kids into the worlds smallest wetsuits, Dave doesn't do sitting in sand, so just loitered here and there.

Night time came and sam and I headed off to Stoer beach to find some stones and bones or other weird and wonderful stuff for him to work out when I nearly came a cropper on a cliff trying to multitask by sword fighting some canny midges who pounced from nowhere when the wind dropped while also anxiously following Sam down some stupid cliffs to get to an elusive rock pool. Grandparents turned up to make sure we hadn't been swept out to sea, they knew Hurricane Bertha was coming......