There they are – the Kissing Cousins – both from the same fibreglass mould – high and dry where wind and tide has parked them. I left them to it and set off on my walk across the fields —

But not before a quick scan of the note on the gate —

There are no dogs around today causing mayhem and no cattle either. The fields that usually carry several head of good stock over the winter are remarkably bare of cattle —

But there are changes in farming methods afoot. Some are building massive sheds to overwinter the cattle and the grass fields are being used to give three crops each year of what is mainly silage. In many cases the beef we eat is coming from beasts that seldom see the light of day. I remember it happening in my father’s time and he felt so strongly about it that he left the farming industry and went off to drive a truck. A man of principle was my dad – for all the good it ever did him.

Just as I do he would have loved this part of the world but after a lifetime of hard work he popped his clogs a couple of weeks after retiring. He wouldn’t have known how to spend his leisure time anyway —

Walking the hills and glens in those days was for tourists in his eyes —

Well if he had been with me today he might have changed his mind. A clifftop rock padded with empty rucksack and fleece for a seat —

with a view over the birds on the rocks to the passing lobster boat would have suited him just fine —

It certainly warmed up out there today. My mother would say ‘never cast a cloot till May is oot’ in her broad Aiberdeen accent but unlike me – she obviously didn’t subscribe to Global Warming —

I started off with Kissing Cousins and have ended with mum and dad! This is definitely one for the family album —

Kissing Cousins