The times they are a-changin'

Winter may be fast approaching, but the weekend's weather here in deepest darkest Argyll was positively summery.

Faither was over for a visit and, making the most of the sunshine on Saturday, we headed down the Kintyre peninsula to Campbeltown.

The trip marked my first ever journey in an open top car, which made the trip doubly enjoyable. The views over to Islay and Gigha were superb, and the warm sun more than compensated for the wind swirling around us in the car. Common sense eventually prevailed, however, when Mrs Wife appeared about to blow away out of the back seat.

Good weather extended into Sunday, which Faither and I decided to use by walking around the whole of Lochgilphead. The town may have an overwhelming lack of tourist attractions, but it was as worthwhile a way to spend an afternoon as any other, enjoying the sun, the fresh air and the exercise.

And now winter, angered by summer's insolence at encroaching on the colder part of the year, is blowing with a freezing fury. Even by mid morning yesterday, the sky was as black as night and a chilly mist hung at eye level. Even at the height of the Argyll summer, rain falls at depressingly regular intervals, so the onset of winter does not fill the Groanin' Jock with joy. Mountains of jumpers, warm jackets and waterproofs will have to dug out from their resting places at the backs of cupboards, the central heating will have to be cranked up and playing football will become a punishment rather than an enjoyable pastime.

Roll on spring....