like some kind of character in a Jane Austen novel I have travelled slowly northwards from London 2 weeks ago, via: oxford, yorkshire, edinburgh, glasgow, the highlands and finally to a slightly bumpy ferry trip across the minch and thence to my own bed again….
a trip of friends and family, and laughter, dog walks, boat trips, singing, cinema, galleries, food, music, and wine…thanks to all for all hospitalities along the way.
My migration coincided with breaking news of sweeping travel restrictions for many imposed from on high, and provoked thoughts about what makes your home, your home, and about migration, immigration, and movement generally. I feel strongly that we must stand up and RESIST and say that it is WRONG, LOUDLY and keep saying it, because if we don’t then we risk condoning it.
and back home…nice weather at the weekend…the beach is still here….not many trees here on uist, but some pattern memories of them in some previous existence in the sand on the beach
happiest under the sky 