A summer gale was blowing up, so Algy flew over to a sheltered spot he knew, where a large mass of rock provided an excellent windbreak for the prevailing south-westerlies. Winter gales, spring gales, summer gales… and soon, no doubt, autumn gales. It seemed as though the wind had almost never stopped blowing this year – and the rain had rarely stopped raining. Algy gazed at the washed-out landscape as the mist swept in yet again, and wondered whether summer would ever return to the wild West Highlands…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s