Menosukhing; getting wet with furiends.

Welcome to August - 146 days till Christmas. Only to keep you on your toes, do I mention this.

Back to the visit from Bertie and Gail. As our Boffin repawted himself, it was not the best of weather. Not that I was expecting much more. Five summers here in the Hutch have taught me to keep expectations low. It can only go up from there!

On Sunday morning, it wasn't too continuous, so B&G took the chance to have a wander on their own and for Gail to obtain a coffee (I am allergic to the stuff and never keep it - I am very hospitable up to that line!) In that hour or so, I got some online work done and a bit of reading.

After lunch, the decision was made to drive around the Holy Loch to the coastal community of Blairmore. The 'Scotch Mist'  got more and more set in. As we took the turn around the top of the loch, onto the Eastern-side road, there was a large banner.

BIG PICNIC

Ardentinny

12-4 pm Sunday 28th July

Bless 'em. The wee print bottom left did say 'wet weather shelter'. It would need to be the community hall, methinks! Even the gulls weren't looking for snacks on this dreich day.

The purpose of popping over to Blairmore was that there is a quite fine little coffee shop-come-gallery there. I had tea (refer above mention of allergy) and an excellent Bakewell slice, Gail, an "Americano" (?) and a fruit scone. Bertie, it has to be said, was left in charge of the vehicle. After an hour or so, we humans decided to brave the outside again, raised the brollies and ventured down to the jetty. The old telephone kiosk is now a book-exchange and has some wonderful artisan glass panels to brighten things up. While Gail and Bertie disappeared up a hill for a longer explore, I remained on the lower road and studied the community hall notice board. 

Blairmore has its own village trust and the care and love within the area show through in bright floral displays, well-kept buildings and cheerful greetings. By the time I had sauntered around the shops and wrangled the brolly and walking stick in order to take photos, I was barely back in the car when my companions returned from their sojourn up round the top of the village. 

The decision was made simply to return to the Hutch because the wet was still as insistent as ever and to drive the little 'sheep track' back road for the sake of it, not likely to get any views at all, would have been rather pointless. Never mind. We were back in just the right amount of time to enjoy the last day of the Tour de France, which we agreed was more enjoyable than many years, due to some excellent camera work by the French teevee crew. The views and sunshine there counterbalanced our own lack here!

What's that you say? Photographs? Okay...

On Monday morning it was farewell to my furiends... we shall meet again e'er lang. It was the law of Murphy, though, that after they left (well the next day anyway) the sun did make a showing here once more. Not for long, but as if to have a laugh... sigh... Still, it afforded us lots of quality conversation time and for someone who spends most of her month not talking at all, it was a chance to exercise the jaw!!!