I took a walk around the Thee Beinns the other day. It turned out to be a magnificent short day out and much better than the ever-busy ramble up Goatfell. The wind was up and the cloud was doing strange things – all steam boiling out of corries and odd mists. At one point the grass – some sort of fescue or other – made me think there were a thousand little characters just on the threshold of my vision. Each top-heavy blade was moving busily and entirely independently of its neighbours, little heads nodding and chattering in the mist. It seemed that the mountain was home to countless Dr. Zeus creations and I was disappointed to take a few steps onwards and find I was alone.
RB
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