We played in the forest, alongside a river where there were sparkly stones, and golden leaves turning, glinting and catching the light above us. Patches of blue skated across the sky, chased by clouds and short-lived showers. When the clouds cast their shadows, the light dimmed and the glowing leaves faded back to an everyday sort of yellow.  The intensity came and went in quick succession.

Later, we sat in the parked car to eat cheese and crackers, with fancy yellow and orange cherry tomatoes from a plastic tub. Crumbs got all over the seats, and John sighed his heavy mock dissatisfaction. Sheets of rain pelted the car as we looked out over Loch Leven to grey, green and auburn shaded hills rising steeply on the far shore. Low tide exposed coal-black rocks sliding down into the slate cold water which was windblown and white-capped.

The rain came in sheets, with the wind gusting, sluicing off the windscreen and in through the windows that were left cracked slightly so our little bubble didn’t fog up and prevent us from seeing the storm.