The end is nigh

Well we didn't see much in the way of wildlife whilst driving our 225 mile sales route on Monday. In fact we didn't see much of anything other than sheets of wind driven rain, low cloud, cascades off rain-puddled roads. But we did some good business, met with some good friends and precious little traffic; got home in good time for dinner a la telly / roaring coal fire / glass of the red. No complaints.

Yesterday we did our last Poolewe market of the season proper. We have a Christmas special and a few nore craft markets etc over in the east of Scotland in November. But that's it. Tell the truth we aren't sorry. It's been a hell of a busy season for us. 'How long can we go on doing this?' asked Madame Islip. 'Don't know', I respond. 'But we'll be giving next year a good old go with Pictures and Poems unless some reviewer in the national press waves her fairy wand, causing Going with Gabriel really to take off. I keep picking up a copy, fondling it like some new born baby. Which for me it is.

Today it's catch up time. Dee's filled the place with sufficient easy-cook foodstuffs to last me for ages and ages, just in case her plane to Gatwick tomorrow is highjacked and she's held to ransome in Barbado or somewhere for a few months. Watch out for the Zulu warriors, Dee. Wouldn't trust those buggers as far as they can throw their mighty spears. However when she comes back on Monday I'll be there at Inverness airport in time for the pair of us to head off north for tea with our friend Denise, followed possibly by an overnight stay in Inverness so we can go see The Soloist at the Eden Court theatre. After that its but a coubple of weeks before we head down south to sunny Spain to see family and do some fishing (me, hopefully, not she.)

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