Words From The West

It was a grey old day today. Grey skies. Grey, foreboding seas. Grey mist. Grey waterlogged land.

You might be forgiven for thinking it was totally grey.

But there is colour everywhere, if you know where to look.

Walking along the front at Lamlash I notice a line of small birds. A flock of oystercatchers. My favourite bird (how did you know?)

I bend down to try and capture the group. The movement makes them fly up and away.

The sky is a flash of black and white, brilliant flashes of white, illuminating.

As far from grey as can be.