Looking directly down from the snow covered top rail of the tower to the swirls and whorls of the snow-whitened surface of the moss below the imagination blurs and I am gazing down at the Minch over the top rail of the Hebridean ferry. Looking directly up I expect to see gannets but hear only geese and, far away, the dull thudding of heavy farm machinery rather than the ship’s engine as it thuds on, ploughing and plunging into the next snow-capped wave.
Robin A Crawford 