When she had woken to the sound of heavy rain, she’d been perversely pleased. With Irish weather in mind, they’d packed heavy waterproofs along with the rest of their walking gear, and imagined evenings playing Scrabble, or reading fat novels with cups of hot whiskey to keep them warm.
But the sun had shone day after day, and the evenings had been spent on the balcony of their rental apartment in the converted barn, with glasses of white wine, and very little Scrabble and no reading. They’d watched bats swooping in front of soft sunsets and listened hopefully for nightingales. Continue reading
Isobel (and Cat)'s Blog 