Neist Point

by

I have said it before, but it takes a holiday for me to notice the changes in FL’s health. 
We trundle along, day to day, getting on with the things that have to be done, and we pretend that everything is fine.
But here we are, on a much-anticipated holiday, and he is just not up to it.  I am doing all the dog-walking on my own.  He has slept through most daylight hours, waking only to cough or take pills. 

We drove out to Neist Point, the most westerly point of Skye.
It was all I could do to persuade him to get out of the car just to have a look at the view.
This is the old abandoned winch, which would have lowered the lighthouse-keeper’s provisions down to the foot of the cliff.

Until today, I would have expected him to want to explore, to follow the footpath down to the lower level to see the lighthouse itself.
But this was just not possible.  He was so unsteady on his feet, he returned to the car almost immediately and closed his eyes.

 This is Moonen Bay.

 “Strictly No Dogs On  Hill”

So after a fortifying pint in a Portree pub (him, not me), we returned to the cottage, and Hero and I took to the hills on foot.
As you can see, the locals ganged up on us…
I wish I could show you the expression on Hero’s face when he met this crowd of bullies!  I think “hang-dog” sums it up well!
Back at the cottage, this holiday has turned into a knitter’s retreat.  I have been working on my sock and my blanket, and watching knitting video-casts on the laptop.
And thinking a lot.