The wee small hours

One of the last duties my father felt necessary to perform in this life was to ensure I knew the tragic circumstances my mother had endured as a girl, before she and my father were married while she was still living at home as a student.

Continue reading “The wee small hours”

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…. a look back at 2018

December 2018 was the first month since January 2017 during which I did not reach the summit of a new Munro, but I can already say with confidence, without checking any statistics, that 2018 was a good year. Continue reading “…. a look back at 2018”

Letting go

He used to visit when my mother was alive but she shooed him away, not because she did not like cats, but because she was scared she might trip over him. After she died, every time I came to the house he would visit. By the time I moved in, he seemed to have already decided that this was where he wanted to be. I reopened the old cat flap so he could come and go as he pleased. Every time I came home from one of my adventures or from working in the city, he would be close by, waiting for my return with long stories and much purring. Continue reading “Letting go”