There is a small white cottage across the loch that I can see from the kitchen window. It's typical of many of the houses in the Highlands. Small, neat and plain, tucked into the hillside. No frills no fancy bits. Probably built about 100 years ago. Although I would call it a croft I think it's really the land and not the house that is the croft. Anyway this morning with howling gales, sleet and rain whipping across the hills I could just see this little house on the other side of the water, sitting tight on the hillside with light shining from the door and windows - the epitome of the perfect, safe, warm and happy place to be! Cups of tea, logs burning on the fire, children playing, mother baking, father mending his bike on the kitchen table - and nobody minding!
Real life isn't like that I know. It was probably chaos inside . Nevertheless I leant on the kitchen taps with my Tesco's water colours and dreamt on!