Although I claim to be a creature of the summer, the only true constant is my love of the beach.
The heat inspires a quick heart-beat, restlessness and inevitable crankiness.
Melting ice-cream, burning eyes and lethargy feed my summer Grinch, which is why summer in Aberdeen is so very glorious.
This summer is an anomaly; a perfect anomaly in my view.
It’s cool, but not cold; sunny, but not burning; bright, but not overwhelming.
The flash storms are sudden and refreshing, yet the beach sparkles and the water laps with false promise.
The waves are clear and blue, and while some brave souls venture a paddle, most watch, don thermal wet-suits or act under duress of a dare.
This weekend we took in once more the small fishing village of Fittie, last done in the spring.
I moved smoothly between praise and bitter envy, the tranquility and timelessness tempered only by the mast of a giant trawler passing out of the harbor beyond.
But living there could be dangerous: ensconced in an attic flat, the North Sea booming below and a cat on my lap, I might never leave.
My shopping would be delivered, my lectures done by Skype and walks taken through Google Streetview.
Within four years I would be the subject of a Channel 4 documentary, but my productivity would be superb.
File under: ‘hidden Northern joys’ and circle on the map. And go.