tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23129490.post-1151233409773786432006-06-05T12:00:00.000+01:002006-06-25T13:00:29.806+01:00

Sunday morning on Lewis: All the shops are closed. Even the main hotel door is shut. The manager has to let us out specially. The door closes behind us and we're out in the street, feeling like the scruffiest heathens on the planet. Stornoway is heaving with smart black-suited men and wedding-hatted women off to church. Even the wee girls wear berets to cover their heads. We shake off the merest

Jules Hornenoreply@blogger.com