The last time I found myself in the corridor drying my hair was 1982. The young ladies of st hilda's college, oxford were deemed insufficiently responsible to have electrical sockets in their rooms as a result of which mornings in the corridor ressembled a cross between a tea shop and a hairdresser dryers, kettles and girls competing for joules and space
The cells in the yha at loch ness don't have sockets either and they make the accommodation at okehampton look good. Alex and angus room was a treat. Black curtains, no view, unbelievable lurking damp smell, further ripened by higher notes of smelly, cycling boy
They got on their bikes eventually looking a little dismal and tired, but at least it was not actually raining at that point. Thank goodness there are now only two days and less than a hundred miles to go. Heateningly the signs now advertise John o' Groats as a destination
The cycle to dornoch takes in three separate amazing bridges across various firths so I hope they enjoyed that. We are waiting for them to arrive of course
Meanwhile isobel and I had a fantatic walk in the sunshine a long way along the sands of dornoch. What a lovely little town. The sea reminds me of Norfolk at its remote and wildest best. For most of our walk we were shadowed by a bobbing cormorant called Bill. He seemed to be in his element popping up and down with the the little waves and moving purposefully and rather majestically towards some unknown destination. It would be hard to describe him as
anything other than having a ball. Not that I'm one to anthropomorphise or anything like that.
A bientot
Even the dismal bits sound exotic, adventurous and wonderful when you describe them. I feel like I am journeying with you (without, um, of course, any of the washing and, you know, effort).
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