June Doldrums

Bellochantuy Sunset, Kintyre Peninsula, June

If I could choose a month to be anywhere but Argyll, it would be June. Or possibly February. The weather becomes unpredictable, but predictably grim. The lows start piling in. The wind blows, and when it doesn’t, the midges bite. The skies are dull, and the warmth of May has long since evaporated. Local wardrobes flit between shorts and t-shirts, fleeces, waterproofs, and bobble hats. It’s a weird month that rumbles like a sound-check before the main gig of summer. It’s a good time for household chores and some late spring cleaning.

I’ve been using my time indoors to catch up on culling / backing up the thousands of photos that fill various drives in the office and the various clouds in the ether. I’ll occasionally spot an undeveloped image that might be good enough for public viewing and flag it for some later attention. I’ll tackle the dreaded tax return. I’ll do a spot of decorating and might replace a few bits with a trip to IKEA. I’ll cut down on the booze a little and maybe loose a few kilos - that beached body doesn’t happen by accident you know.

What I don’t seem to be doing is taking any photos. This June I will be mostly losing my mojo.

The good news is that it’ll soon be over. Summer will be here, family and friends will visit, and I’ll get to do the daddy / tour guide thing. The mackerel will be swarming around the loch, followed by the bullet dives of the Gannets - a real treat to witness and somehow even better to hear from the seat of a gently bobbing kayak.

It seems like I’m wishing my days away. Well, the 30 that make up June anyway. Perhaps next June I’ll plan a trip somewhere nice. Maybe a holiday - I assume retirees are allowed those?