Moving on.

Gulls are also having trouble getting their offspring to leave home and stand on their own two feet these days. The couple who raised the usual two-egg family on the roof opposite have still to coax one into the big bad world. I thought both had flown until this morning when I heard anxious peeping from the hungry, fully grown, child coming from the chimney pot. Mother is trying hard to ignore it - I think it's a she as the other was larger and started to stretch its wings earlier.

Suddenly I am very appreciative of my roof top views. I had hoped to end my days in a nice little house overlooking the ocean - or at least the Bay, but the next move will be into a decidely unromantic new build in what my daughter calls a 'housing development' and I call an estate. No views there, not even nice old tiled roof-tops. Ah me. Still, I will be getting three proper bedrooms, a place to put my dining table, plus acres of cupboard and wardrobe space which has been sadly lacking here, so it's not all bad. If it isn't eccentric and interesting on the outside I can do my best to make it so on the inside. It'll just take a bit more creative effort. It's certainly quieter there and I think I'll be glad of that now.

I've started clearing out cupboards and am happy to see not much has accumulated. I'm really good at getting rid of stuff. When I moved here I remember my ex saying firmly that I would have to stay eight years to make the improvements worth while. I thought 'Ho! That'll never happen.' The longest I'd lived anywhere in Scotland up till then was four years - in fact I'm not sure that's not the longest I'd ever stayed in a house since childhood. So it's with some surprise that I find I have been here the eight years and even more possibly, I just can't remember which year I moved. It has served me well and been very adaptable, now it will do the same for daughter as she adds more therapists to her stable to supplement income from the shop and her own osteopathy.