Is e ‘n t-ionnsachadh òg an t-ionnsachadh bòidheach

I have finished the three books about Lewis, the Northern-most island of the Hebrides. I really did find Mr Shock of Tousled Blonde Curls INSUFFERABLE by the end, but the scenery made up for it. My hunger for wild and cruel landscapes is at an all time high.

But now back to the library. Next up we have The Death of King Arthur by Peter Ackroyd. Bound to be poor, but what can one expect when one insists on silly games? I’ll probably read one excellent book in ten – for the rest of my life. Or until they close the library, which is an even bleaker prospect.

Before you go, here is the best Gaelic saying ever for your delectation:

Is luath fear doimeig air fàire, latha fuar Earraich – Swift is the slut’s husband over the hill, on a bleak day in Spring.

Like, can you even?

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