From our 4th July edition
IT used to be that my early morning walks with the dog were quite solitary affairs. I would meet the occasional man and dog on the beach and another as I came back along the golf course and I would wave to yet another walking his dog on the airstrip. That was on a busy morning.
These days it is not quite as busy as Piccadilly Circus but by Highland standards it feels as though it’s heading that way.
Because the young hound I walk is a sociable animal who assumes every other four-legged canine is his friend, I can’t quite go about in the dwam I used to be able to wander in, with my thoughts on other things.
Nowadays I have to keep an eye out for fellow dog-walkers so that I can get a lead on mine before he takes off to go and play with dogs who probably doesn’t want a big black thug coming hurtling towards them.
One day earlier this week was a bit different. That particular morning I was really quite unnerved. We did our usual walk but rather unusually there were no cars parked where, routinely these days, there are at least three or four.
I thought "Great!" and carried on. Then there was no-one on the beach. And when after a long wander, I turned to walk back, there was no-one on the golf course either. I have to confess I felt a bit spooked. I had one of those surreal and thankfully fleeting moments when I thought everyone else had left the planet! An absurd thought, I know but….
Then I wondered if I had misread the clock. With the long days, had I shot out of bed a couple of hours early? Was it a holiday?
Then I realised it was none of the above. It was simply one of those things.
Sometimes things happen that we can’t explain. Sometimes those things are good. Sometimes those things are bad. Other times they are just puzzling.
For me, they serve as a reminder of one fact I am only too well aware of: they remind me that I don’t know and cannot understand everything.
There will be those who put the randomness of life down to just that, to its randomness and deal with it with a shrug of their shoulders.
For others, these unforeseen, unexpected and inexplicable episodes point to the possibility of a greater hand stirring the mix. Which camp do you think you might fall into?
We have a daft wee plaque that hangs on the study door. It reads: "How can I control my life, when I can’t control my hair?" I know that some things are simply beyond my understanding.
Susan Brown
