Still haven't bagged another Munro. Definitely still basking in the glory of the first, despite the fact it was almost a month ago. What do you mean, which Munro are you climbing next? I've climbed one, isn't that enough??
Plus we've had an almost heatwave here in Scotland, and I definitely don't want to climb mountains in the sunshine. Heaven forbid, I might get views!! Nah, I'd much prefer to wait for those perfectly crisp fresh chilly Scottish days. And we certainly get plenty of those at this time of year.
I spent a fantastic few days on Skye last weekend, where the air was hazy and there was a distinct chill that you could feel right to your very bones. The kind of days that make you long for bowls of hot soup and to sit by a fire somewhere. It was simply perfect. Whoever said "Skye is not an island, but an intoxication" had it spot on.
The past few weeks have been quite quiet. I've filled my time (and the freezer) making endless pots of soup. Totally prepared for the winter. Itching to make more but I've run out of tupperware boxes!
I've been walking walking walking. Wee walks, and longer ones, just to build up my fitness for the potential Munros to come. I have enjoyed walking along the Union Canal near my flat, as far as I feel like going, and then back again. There is always something different to see; whether it be the Edinburgh schools out rowing training (endless entertainment as they struggle not to crash into each other), or just watching the exhausting varieties of people; walking, cycling, rowing, sitting, running, looking.
You pass through numerous different parts of Edinburgh, and you can feel the transition between them. The sights change, the people change, the feelings change. One day I instantly felt that I'd walked too far, mostly because I had absolutely no clue where I was. (And still don't).
Ever so occasionally people will nod at you as you walk past them. There is a lot of etiquette involved in canalside walking, especially as cyclists try to manoeuvre their way round you. Sometimes you will get a thank you, mostly you will not. But my favourite moment of last week was passing an old gentleman, who looked like he was probably a fantastic grandpa to his lucky grandchildren. I just got that feeling. He was walking slowly, oblivious to the bikes whizzing past him. I could tell he, like me, was tickled by the rowing efforts of the kids out on the water. The sun was shining, it was warm, yet he still had has jacket and hat on. As we passed each other, he acknowledged me. It was flashing through my thoughts to acknowledge him, just as he nodded to me, and said 'lovely day'. It just gave me such a feeling of warmth inside. I can't describe why, but if you know the feeling you will know exactly what I mean. Perhaps I felt glad that this elderly chap would have his faith restored in the 'youf' of today, that some of us are actually quite nice and respect our elders. (Can I count myself as'youth' at 25? I hope so.) But mostly I felt, and this is probably quite a deep thought for such a minor exchange, that it was heartwarming, in this cynical world where everybody is so busy in their own lives, that two strangers could pass each other by a canal and say hello.
It is the simple things in life.
Like putting cards in the post for scattered friends.
Or that first bite of your haggis burrito.
Like walking on the beach with the rain behind you; you can't feel it but you can hear it hitting the back of your jacket.
Or singing along to Fleetwood Mac (who you have only recently discovered are fantastic) with your boyfriend.
And best of all, simply breathing in - and being intoxicated by - that Skye air.
That's where I'm spending this weekend too....
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