Friday 21st April, start of Week Eight

 

Slightly earlier to bed tonight (0100 as opposed to 0200) after chewing the fat with Clem on a whole world of subjects. So I may even be up before 0930, unlike yesterday.

Today was wall to wall sunshine again, and Rosalind had packed a picnic lunch to enjoy on a tour of the Black Isle. We followed the north shore of the large peninsula, aiming for Cromarty at the far east end. The view across the Cromarty Firth showed the vital industrial base for the area, with oil rigs and construction works. 

But we enjoyed our sandwiches and tea, watched by Robins, blue tits, thrushes and blackbirds - the most bird life I'd seen on this trip (apart from numerous pheasants braving the roads. 

Nearby was the Old Brewery, converted largely into part of the Cromarty Arts Centre, which has an extensive program of activities. I eyed enviously the preparation for this weekend's residential retreat on Crime and Thrillers, with authors including the likes of Mark Billingham. I added my name to the emailing list for possible future events.

We stopped to visit Hugh Miller's cottage and museum. He's new to me, and I suspect to most people south of the Black Isle, and certainly to most Sassenachs. He trained as a stone mason,  but made his contribution as discoverer of fossils, and as a journalist and an agitator against corrupt practices in the Church of Scotland in the mid nineteenth century, which led to the formation of the Free Church. There were comprehensive displays of some of his fossil discoveries, many of them from the local beaches, but no copies of his published books, which are all out of print. There was an attractive, sheltered garden with interesting sculptures. Cromarty is a small, pretty village, apparently with a high population of artists. 

From there, down the southern shore of the Isle, past splendid beaches and a lighthouse (now a private home) at the twin villages of Rosemarkie and Fortrose. This is a great area for spotting dolphins, but sadly not today. 

The it was back to the Imrie home, and a walk back up the hill for an excellent, and very filling, meal at the Culbokie Inn. Night night.