The evening sun cast long shadows over the moors and glens, sheep chased after the farmer’s tractor for dinner, mother cows called their infants back. The road was long and winding, the light hypnotic. Two hours out of Aberdeen, at least seven to go. Miles of British countryside between us and home, places I’d vaguely heard of but knew almost nothing about. Still just places, passed by but not through. The final journey, an adventure, after a year that was both.
I was going to turn back. In fact, I had. I was waiting to pass some people on the narrow clifftop path when they asked me if I’d seen puffins. No, I’d replied slightly disappointed that I hadn’t. But they had just seen some flying past. That was all I needed to hear, I turned and hurried back to where I’d been waiting and watching for the little birds with the orange beaks.
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