A time and a space

A couple of night ago a very large yacht arrived off Aultbea to take up one of the Hotel's mooring buoys. Not unusual. These boats are chartered somewhere south of here to folk wealthy enough to have a holiday sailing around the many Hebridean islands. Wonderful.

I took this phograph, at exactly 10.10 p.m., from our living room window. We had been watching the ten o clock news with its account of how you are more likely to die if you get operated on on a Friday than on a Monday, its constant regurgitation of the awfulness that happened a week since in South London, its other major regurgitation, that of the death and destruction a couple of weeks back in the State of Oklahoma - and of course the latest obscenity in Syria with that bloody constant political hand-wringing political commentary from those well clear of the firing line. (Incidentally, I'm presently re-reading Hemingway's magnificent facto-novel, 'For Whom the Bell Tolls', set in the 1930's.Spanish Civil War. Nothing changes.).

Why, I wonder, do we waste our lives in watching this kind of  thing? Being brutally honest there's nothing we can or should do about it. If people have to suffer - whether by accident or by act of God or by simple self mutilation does it help them to know we are watching? Does it help us? A large No to both, I'm afraid.

Anyway back to my photo ... in case you ever wondered about what could possess anyone to go live in such a place as this, Scottland's Wester-Ross, look at the picture and now you know. Or should know. Time and space to think. Time and space to live. No place for the morbid spectator.

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