miscellaneous

Adverse weather rolls in over the hills very quickly - but can evaporate just as quickly.


Smokers may be slightly chillier than elsewhere in the country, but the castle courtyard is a very convivial place to savour a post-prandial cigarette.

And there's a charming replica bird-table outside the bistro window - giving diners something to occupy them while browsing the menu. The service is so good, you don't have much (if any) time to contemplate the bird-table and its visitors...
We intend to slot the castle tour in between two short walks today - tours are timed to coincide with the ferry timetables. As Lucy and I go in search of seals and maybe otters on the shores of Loch Scresort, a ferryload of geriatrics hobble along castle-ward - each clot with a self-appointed spokesperson echoing the plea 'How far is it to the castle now?' We can't quite stomach sharing our magical place with this flotilla of ageing toddlers (one of whom addresses us as 'boys' - questionable how much of the sights she's going to appreciate!), so we move to plan B.
After spotting just a solitary seal, we settle for a picnic in our room with Magnus Magnusson's authoritative little book on Rum, followed by another baby walk along the river. Bizarrely, there's a park bench on the other side - we're tempted to ford the shallowest bit, so we can read the plaque, but decide we'd rather not have sopping wet socks and boots for the rest of our stay. We opt for perambulating the perimeters of the castle - and posing on the rebuilt Japanese style bridge which once adorned the owner's ornamental gardens.
At supper, we sit beside the Central Administrator for the Western Isles, and discover that there's an admin job coming up on the island...
I make a point of NOT checking out the cottage that the contractors have come to decorate in readiness for the new employee...