Well. So. By way of explanation, I live in the far north west of Scotland, but for reasons too convoluted to explain I regularly travel to Essex to work on my boat. Stopped off at Barnard Castle today 👇 (Old gag alert.)

The Cuillin yesterday. With blue.

From Cul Mor. Suilven and water.

Not so long ago, near Loch Quoich. They were definitely off somewhere, but weren’t about to explain.

This, seen out walking in North Yorkshire limestone country, is an entrance to a cave system. All a bit mad if you ask me. But I’m claustrophobic.

Knitting in Ripon, North Yorkshire today. (Yeah, yeah, I know, a bit random. But a lovely surprise all the same.)

Near Brimham Rocks, Yorkshire. Reminds me of the heathlands of Surrey around where I grew up. But with rocks.

On the way home to Scotland from the south of England we diverted to Nidderdale to see a friend yesterday. Decades since I walked remote Yorkshire. It’s a lot more wealthy than it was. And just as gorgeous.

Camasunary bothy a few years ago, before the new one was built just along the beach. My mate and I slept for thirty-six hours through a storm. The only other guests were half a dozen Scooby Doo fans.

Glen Coe just over a year ago. A sudden snowfall overnight, and a still day with sunshine. The last time I’d been that way was 34 years before.

From last summer. The dawn chasing our sailing boat westwards off the south coast of England.

Going to be sunny as far as the weather forecast can see. (The boatbuilding is going well thanks.)