The weather forecast yesterday advised that a planned trip to the little-known Glen Quaich would be in order, but, as is very often the case, it was less bright than forecast and not wonderful for filming or photography.

Undaunted, my companion, Mr D. Murdoch, and I set about recording the day with enthusiasm, especially after cheese scones and coffee in an excellent bakery in Muthill.

Glen Quaich is also known as Strathbraan, or the Secret Strath.  Robert Burns experienced it's transport difficulties in 1787 near the start of his Highland Tour.  He knew it as 'the roof of the world'.  It is not recorded that he sampled the delights of the Muthill bakery., or indeed any of the other delights offered by the area..

The lack of bright sunlight meant we did not see the scenery at its best but we did see Canada Geese, Black Grouse and orange sheep.. (Perhaps they were fans of Dundee United as Tannadice is perhaps the nearest 'field of dreams'.) 

On reaching the other side of the Glen, we turned towards Kenmore, for a quick swatch at the Crannog., before heading back to the Beautiful Vale..

Have a look at the foties in the Glen Quaich gallery..

In celebration of our 32nd anniversary and following on the 27th birthday of the second-born, the esteemed spouse has ventured south with the first-born.  This is a cause for celebration for me.

Have fled sweltering conditions in Bonhill and made my way to the Prestwick but'n'ben.  Equally sweltering but I'm sitting with an electric fan and a cooling jug of liquid refereshment.
Had a wonderful week in the far north last week, thanks to good friend Davy Murdoch who has a photographic memory and seems to know every road in Scotland, including single track.
We spent the Sunday night in Ullapool but on hearing that Princess Anne was arriving to open the World Skiff Championships on Monday, we set off for Scourie.. Took nearly 1400 photographs and a selection of these will appear on this site, some as montages

Another beautiful day in Dunbartonshire and what better way to spend it than a sail on Loch Lomond.  My dear spouse had made off to the city , to meet a friend for lunch, and attend a literary/political event later in the day.  I therefore felt no guilt as I headed for Sweeney's boatyard armed with my trusty Nikon D3100.

This was my first loch cruise of the year and the 'Astina' was only half full, allowing for free movement around the deck.  My fellow passengers sounded as though most of them had crossed the Atlantic to be aboard and several thousand dollars of Canon and Nikon gear was on display.

I was pleased to see the sea-plane parked at Cameron House and resolved to get a few shots of her take-off from this new angle.
The cruise progressed and I snapped away happily for the next ten minutes until suddenly I heard the throb of propellers. Turning my head in the direction of Cameron House I saw the beautiful yellow plane move on the water.  "Ya beauty", I intoned silently as I raised my trusty Nikon and began snapping.. ............... "Whit the f***", I intoned less silently as nothing happened.  The plane rose majestically as I fired blanks.. The battery signal flashed sarcastically at me and I imagined it saying, "How often huv a telt ye? Always huv a spare battery!", in a clipped Japanese accent.

Pleasantly surprised this morning when the offspring presented me with parcels containing thoughtfully chosen books, confectionery and packages of select coffee beans.. Nice. Thank you offspring, the pleasure was all mine.

Relieved to find that the torrential rains of yesterday have moved on and been replaced with a beautiful morning of warm sunshine.  To the beach with camera and the day's newspapers. Bliss.

Returned to the but'n'ben and a fine lunch prepared by the delightful Maria.  Her father must be beelin' at the thought of his daughter preparing Fathers' Day lunch for another.  Sorry Al .......... it was deliicious, your favourite I believe..

My dear spouse and I decamped to the but'n'ben on Thursday in fine weather and in finer spirits, having just attended a funeral in which neither of us had major roles..
We relaxed on the veranda with glasses of fine wine and planned an active weekend sampling the fleshpots of Troon and Ayr with visiting offspring who would arrive on Friday evening.
After a restful Friday in the environs of a sunny Prestwick we enjoyed a fine meal prepared by my highly talented assistant, to the accompaniment of further fine wines and the convivial conversation of our charming son and his delightful partn.er.
And so to bed and the prospect of sweet dreams and a fine morrow................
Fine morrow my meaty buttocks.  There was a never ending drumming contest on the roof of the but'n'ben in the shape of torrential rain and I don't think it really stopped until Saturday evening., which is now.  No fleshpots of Troon or Ayr for us.  Instead, I spent a good part of the day creating this little website with the assistance of the excellent weebly.com.
Ensconced as we are a mere 300 or so yards from Prestwick Airport, you might suppose that we'd be amongst the first to know of the alarming goings on there this afternoon..  Not so.  The first we heard of it was in a text from the daughter in Glasgow at 10,pm, wondering if we'd been affected by the chaos of 400 polis running around the  airport..
We were more affected by the pishin' rain.