The Day We Went To Dornoch
Can this really be Scotland in October? Did we really spend the day at the beach? Well yes and yes again. We went to Dornoch, which is about 45 miles north of Inverness. I say "we" and by that I mean the Zed family minus Mrs Z. She's working this week, while I'm off. Next week we trade places. That way we've got both weeks of the Highland school holidays covered.
Dornoch, I have to say, is a beautiful wee place. It seems to have been perfectly preserved and having a family picnic here is a bit little stepping back into the pages of an Enid Blyton adventure story. I half-expected to see some smugglers making their way along the shoreline. I told the Zed-teens to be on the alert for skullduggery. Then I told them to look up the word 'skullduggery'.
A few empty shops, of course. Among those was M.G. Ross, which looked like the kind of place where, in years gone by, you would have gone to buy a replacement valve for your big radio set. You can imagine the day they first put a TV set in the shop window. People probably fell of their horses.
But Dornoch today has enough tea shops and cafes to provide venues for a festival of pastry, should anyone ever come up with that idea. And if anyone ever does, I'm happy to be a judge.
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