NP had persuaded her friends to accompany us on a trip to the Outer Hebrides. This was on the basis of my large archive of photographs of the deserted white sandy beaches that fringed the sea of Caribbean blue, sparkling in glorious summer sunshine under vast cloudless skies.

The problem was that this collection of pictures had been assembled over several years, and it was not representative of a typical leaden-sky week in the Western Isles. Worse still, so far this trip had also been marred by a downpour that had started as soon as we disembarked the ferry. It looked like the rain would never stop.

NP gathered her friends together and announced to all that her patience had run out. She was returning to the mainland with anyone else who wanted to give up on this sodden holiday.

I had a feeling that as soon as NP and her followers stepped onto the boat, the sun would come out again.