SCOTTISH LOCH:

Today I am going to sit by a quiet Scottish loch. I am heading for Loch Ness to be precise. It is a quiet evening of melancholic mists & muted Autumnal colours. The dappled cloud - swept sunshine struggles to smile, but I do not mind today, because it is a thoughtful evening full of wistfulness & there is quiet wisdom to be gleaned from the gloaming. The loch shimmers pewter & mysterious, cold & crisp, hiding aeons of secrets unknown to humble humans. In the distance the sound of a lone bagpiper lends his tune to the highlands, whilst nearer to where I am sitting on an old tartan blanket, on the banks of this silent haven, the emperor of the highlands stands bugling his status, shaking his great antlered head with pride, knowing that this is his land. The stag greets me with a nod & goes on his way, an otter splashes a slippery splash & disappears, an owl flies overhead into the dusk, & I am now totally alone. I open my flask & pour myself a cup of strong golden tea & I give it a friendly dram of the good stuff which I sip, the steam from my whiskeyed tea mingling with the Autumnal mists & the crunching of my buttered shortbread, & all is well with my world. Across the lake I see Nessie rise, shake her ancient head for just a split second, just enough for me to believe she exists.