8 August 2010, 9:49 am
The “cuckoo clock” in the dining room below began counting the hours. We had to be at breakfast by six, so I counted along with it. The previous evening, we had arrived at the small inn somewhere in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides at a very late hour. As the clock announced each hour, I buried deeper into the covers confident of a few more hours of sleep. Then it chimed for the eighth time and I was ...... Read More »