Long, long ago when I was young Miss Starke and newly arrived in Scotland I was enchanted by the almost midnight sun. We'd been on a late night leaflet run and were heading home, it was past 11 o'clock and still light. This was the most wonderful thing. I had memories of going to bed when it was still light, but then I'd been a child. Resenting my early bedtime I'd groused, muffled behind the blackout curtains, (for when the pit lights came on, not to hide us from the Luftwaffe) hearing other children out playing. Other children who were allowed not just to be up but out and about at 9pm.
This northern night light was new and strange and beautiful. How could it happen? The sun was lingering in the north. Didn't it set in west? I hadn't paid enough attention to those Geography diagrams..
Tonight it is light at 8pm gentle dusk at 9. It is one of those precious nights, we are in the west of Scotland, in view of the sea, the air is mild and still, the midgies are still to hatch. It's the day when convertibles lose their lids and garden furniture finds a purpose. There are bats pitching about and birds calling the nightly news. From across the water Tarbert winks, closer by Calmac welcomes us to Portavadie. We have wine, a comfy bed and the promise of summer.