Let there be cuckoos a lark and a dove.......

We've had the most amazing few days. There's nothing nicer than showing off something you love only to find that others love it too. I think my family have left this place not only having satisfied their curiosity about the place where their batty relative is going to live but they've fallen a little bit in love with the place too. 

It's hard not to feel amazed by The Outer Hebrides and the few places we went to were pretty amazing. The landscape of South Harris feels very alien in places. Grey rocky terrain stretches for miles and miles and it isn't any wonder that they've been looking at the place as a possible location for the new Star Wars films. But I wanted to take my family to Seilebost and Luskentyre voted as one of the most beautiful beaches in the world and very recently topped a poll of places that are hard to believe are in the UK. I wanted them to see the places that filled me with awe and made me fall in love with the place the first time I was here. I think it's fair to say that they were as blown away by the view as I was.

After the beach we drove back through the Harris hills and northwards to The Isle Of Lewis and to our little crofthouse. Who was I kidding? It's not little at all! The two months I had been away had made the place shrink in my imagination but the place is airy and spacious and light. I love it more now than I did before and it's ideal for us to learn to live here.

It's years since I heard a cuckoo. Since we arrived here there hasn't been a time when I've been outside without hearing one. Just this afternoon I heard a very frantic cuckoo call which was extremely close to the house. Glancing through the window I saw two starlings attacking a much larger fat speckled bird that was shrieking in indignation with its distinctive cuckoo call. I know how rare it is to hear a cuckoo any more so to actually see one was an unexpected pleasure - even if it was being pecked and dive bombed by two protective starling parents. The starlings are nesting in the blackhouse chimney pot and are really pissed off that a crowd of people have suddenly descended upon them and have also brought a dog who climbed upon the roof to investigate the racket!

We took The Dog with us when we went to Port Ness. The harbour there is beautiful with clear turquoise waters. He couldn't resist the idea of swimming in those turquoise waters and leapt about fifteen foot down over the side and onto the rocks. Everyone thought he would be hurt and injured but he just made for the water and swam around the pierhead and back to shore. He's a plucky little thing. Mad, but plucky.

The Dog used to be really anxious about the sound of traffic. Outside the house in Cardiff was a disintegrating road and a manhole cover that made every lorry and bus rattle really loudly. He hated that noise and would come padding through the house with his blanket in his mouth looking for comfort. Here there is rarely a sound. Standing in the garden is wonderfully serene and at first appears to be silent. But then you hear the sounds of the waves crashing on the shore a few hundred yards away. The cuckoo is never far away and the larks....so many larks. Their high pitched chirupping drawing your eyes skywards to see if you can spot them ascending almost vertically towards the clouds. There's also the sound of the nest of starlings and countless seagulls. There's the high whistling call of the terns that fly past and the honking of the greylag geese that congregate in this croft and the other adjacent ones. There are a couple of collared doves as well that always seem to have trouble balancing on the low slung wires between the old fashioned telegraph posts. 

What a great place to be. I think that perhaps I've made the best decision of my life.