A day of lashing rain outside, a bitingly cold wind hammering the water against the windows and finding every small crack or opening to chill the air inside the house. I lit the fire early, the kindling crackling and spluttering until the flue warmed and the heat began to flow in the kitchen. Too wetContinueContinue reading “Clyde style”
Fishy tales from the West of Ireland
Claretbumbler 