Windswept

I LIFT my head to the weak sun and give thanks for having survived another winter. It’s good to see the lane is passable, even if there are ruts and puddles. However, I can still see the bones of icy,

THE small wooden sign that read “Kinlochbay Station” swayed in the winter wind. Elspeth MacKenzie hurried along the platform, her father’s pocket watch clutched in her gloved hand. Five minutes to the

AS I hang my clothes in the wardrobe of the hotel room we’re sharing, I feel my sister Clare’s eyes on me. Through a mirror, I catch the thoughtful look on her face. It’s a look that’s often there, bu

WHILE he was cooking his lunch, Father Sanjoy looked out of the presbytery’s window and felt bored. In his previous bustling parish in London, things happened all the time. Here, he sometimes felt the

It’s easy to underestimate the power of winter out on the hillside when you’re tucked away in the lea of a stable yard, finds Tessa Waugh , after an optimistic hacking route proves treacherous

Sylvia was bored to tears. She almost wished she’d gone with the others to the garden centre. But she’d had it with garden centres, and what was the point when the gardens here were looked after by pr