Lying on a sofa in a holiday let perched on a cliff on the edge of nowhere. Looking at a tiny gleam of sun. The first in days. Until now the light has been flat, the cloud continuous, the wind fierce and the rain horizontal. I am coughing, sneezing, shivering, sniffling. Surrounded by Beecham's powders and used tissues.

Yesterday the wildlife cruise I booked was cancelled. The boat had developed a fault. Today the water board are doing essential maintenance and the water is off.

The building my sofa is in is part of a brutalist looking complex built to house RAF personnel. It is now painted white but looks as if it could still withstand a few bombs. Inside it's a honeymooner's dream with polished floors, an appliance filled kitchen and a luxurious bathroom filled with light. All put together by someone with excellent taste. I wonder what the looking glass makes of the wrinkled old woman reflected in it. She's coughing her lungs up and longing to go home.


What a difference a day makes. It's midnight and I'm lying on the sofa once more. Eating strawberries and madeira cake. What changed ? Yes, the sun came out. Yes, I spent a few magical hours on a white beach with turquoise waves and flower studded machair, But the highlight of my visit, what made it all worth while was standing among the stones of Callanish in torrential rain. Soaking trousers, water pouring from my shoes, struggling to keep my tripod upright. Mopping water off my camera and lens. Trying to photograph amazing light and a double rainbow.

Did I do it ? Succeed ? It doesn't matter. The magic was in the moment. Being there. Battling with the elements. Doing a polite dance with a taciturn American using a gigantic lens. He must have been doing extreme close ups. Eventually everything calmed down and the light went. But we both still stood there. Sunset was coming.

Then people appeared. Clouds thickened. The mood changed. Show over. I returned to the warm car and the long drive back to the sofa on the cliff top. I could go home now. Satisfied.