
Iona
Sometimes, the days on this island are so unutterably perfect that I am loathe to let them go; but, not … Continue reading Iona
Sometimes, the days on this island are so unutterably perfect that I am loathe to let them go; but, not … Continue reading Iona
I know an island. A magical place, a smudge of green grass rising out of the bluest of seas, where … Continue reading The Snails and the Whale
The tourist at the front of the queue peers anxiously into the bus. “Are you the bus to Fionnphort?” The … Continue reading The Bus to Fionnphort
The kids have already eaten by the time I get home and they’re watching something loud on the telly, so … Continue reading Noises, sounds and sweet airs, and dancing.