Perpetual Motion

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Most of the time it rained. Such is life in the wild West Highlands of Scotland. But on the few summer days that it didn’t rain, Algy ensured that he made the most of the finer weather, and the best way to do that, in his opinion, was to perch on a handy rock beside the sea and watch the perpetual motion of the waves, forever washing back and forth, without a care in the world.

Algy hopes that you will all be able to take some time to relax this weekend, and spend a few happy hours just watching the waves, or the sky, or the wind in the trees 🙂

Picture Postcard

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Algy reclined on a sunny rock beneath his cliff-side nest and listened to the sounds of the sea, seething and swirling all around him. He could think of no better way to spend a bright summer’s afternoon, and he hoped that the tide would not rise too soon…

Algy sends you all lots of fluffy seaside hugs, and this picture postcard from his stay-at-home vacation on the wild west coast of Scotland. He hopes you are enjoying a happy and peaceful Sunday xoxo

Algy’s Staycation…

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It was summer holiday time in the wild West Highlands of Scotland, and while his assistants continued to work, Algy had been enjoying that most fashionable of all types of holiday – a “staycation”…

Of course, it is well known that those who take their holidays on the west coast of Scotland must expect uncertain weather, and this year had been no exception to that rule. But between the cold, grey, wet and misty days there had been some days of glorious sunshine, and on these Algy delighted in reclining on a rock in his own personal garden by the sea, watching the other holidaymakers making merry on the beach or messing about in boats…

If you are enjoying your summer holidays just now – whether at home or away – Algy hopes that you are having a wonderful time 🙂

The Mist

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As the glorious West Highland summer continued, Algy reclined on the dripping leaves of a garden hedge, wondering how long it would take for the tiny droplets of dense mist to soak right through his feathers. There was no point looking out to sea, as the sea had not been visible for quite some time. And there was no point watching the sky, as the sky had long since vanished. So Algy struck up a conversation with a song thrush who, despite the weather, had been yodelling vigorously in a tree nearby. The thrush was not a particularly well-read bird, so for his benefit Algy recited an appropriate poem, in the hope that the thrush would add it to his repertoire:

I am the mist, the impalpable mist,
Back of the thing you seek.
My arms are long,
Long as the reach of time and space.

Some toil and toil, believing,
Looking now and again on my face,
Catching a vital, olden glory.

But no one passes me,
I tangle and snare them all.
I am the cause of the Sphinx,
The voiceless, baffled, patient Sphinx.

I was at the first of things,
I will be at the last.
I am the primal mist
And no man passes me;
My long impalpable arms
Bar them all.

[Algy is reciting the poem The Mist by the 20th century American poet Carl Sandburg.]

And the mist came down again…

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It was the 1st July, and the West Highland summer continued in all its glory… There had scarcely been a single fine day since the middle of May, and as the temperature soared to a high of 14 degrees celsius (before wind chill), Algy clung on desperately to a tangle of honeysuckle in the driving Scotch mist, and wondered whether this “summer” would ever come to an end…

Algy sends you all lots of very damp fluffy hugs, and if you are one of his friends who suffer from excess heat in the summer months, he sends you an abundance of very cool, damp air xoxo

Eventually, the mist lifted…

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Eventually the wind swung round to the north and the mist lifted, at least until the wind changed again… Algy was so relieved to see some light and colour in the world once more that he flew straight down to the sea and found himself a perch on a rock where the tide was washing in. The world looked entirely different on a fine day, and Algy couldn’t help wishing that it would be fine just a wee bit more often… But there was little he could do to influence the weather, so he decided to make the most of the sunshine while it lasted, even though the wind was still decidedly cool.

Flaming June…

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For days and days and days – that felt like weeks and months and years – the dense Scotch mist had smothered the West Highlands of Scotland with a dark and exceedingly thick wet blanket. Algy had heard a distant rumour that this would be the hottest, sunniest weekend of the year to date… in the UK…

So, in the middle of the afternoon, in the middle of the year, Algy perched on a dripping fence post and studied the moss growing on top of the post in front of him. As most of the world had vanished, it was almost all he could see, but he was glad to discover that at least some things seemed to thrive in these conditions…

Flaming June, they call it.