TPR and I took temporary accommodation in a Lochinver hotel. It wasn’t very suitable: whenever the tide came in, our room was flooded with sea water and the occasional fish; the bathroom was barely a cupboard; and poor security encouraged random scally-wags to come in and poke at our belongings. I did, however, like the towel rail, which was fashioned from the frame of a rusting old bicycle.
I already had a job offer under consideration and my eye on a permanent property overlooking the harbour, but now I was having second thoughts about the move. What about the midges in the summer, and what kind of price would we get for the Edinburgh flat post-coronavirus?