What started out as quite reasonable day with good sunny spells, has now gone downhill at a rate of knots. As I type this (just after 11pm), a force 7 southerly wind is lashing us with spells of rain. A major Atlantic depression, whose influence on weather extends from Iceland to the Azores, is pushing frontal systems in. These will be followed by cooler weather. Conversely, or perhaps perversely, after being hit by snow this week, New York will be enjoying temps of 17C in the next few days.
I have to observe, with considerable sadness, that after a day's respite, vitriol has returned to the internet regarding the re-election of Barack Obama as president of the USA. I can very well imagine that those who did not relish the prospect of Mr Obama's second term are perhaps disappointed that Mr Romney did not get in. But it is not done to assail others, who hold differing political opinions, on-line. I think it would be much better if politics was given a rest for a couple of weeks. Here in Scotland, we are facing 98 weeks of independence debate (read: garbage), and things will be getting a lot worse than over the USA, I'll give you that as my opinion.
View across the Outer Harbour of Stornoway
Thursday, 8 November 2012
Stulaval
Now derelict on the shore of Loch Reasort
Little Luachair stands
Years back a carpenter came
over the hills from Bowglass
After job's end he was left
with some planks
which he carried back
below the frowning cliffs
A sound of hammerblows
echoed below the face
of stern Stulaval
Regular and slow
Turning around
the carpenter espied
nothing
and nobody
But the tapping
continued
Soon he descended
over the hills into Vigadale
Reached home but
his hearth was cold
and nobody around
except his wife, no longer alive
The carpenter hammered
his wife's coffin
An echo of the hammerblows
Below cold Stulaval
Little Luachair stands
Years back a carpenter came
over the hills from Bowglass
After job's end he was left
with some planks
which he carried back
below the frowning cliffs
A sound of hammerblows
echoed below the face
of stern Stulaval
Regular and slow
Turning around
the carpenter espied
nothing
and nobody
But the tapping
continued
Soon he descended
over the hills into Vigadale
Reached home but
his hearth was cold
and nobody around
except his wife, no longer alive
The carpenter hammered
his wife's coffin
An echo of the hammerblows
Below cold Stulaval
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