THIS month has been chaotic with little time to spare to get out and about as we usually do.

You see, we are sailing off to a new berthing location.

They say that moving house is one of the most stressful times in ones life.

For ‘normal folks’, this involves lots of cardboard boxes, sofa heaving etc.

For us however, moving house really does mean moving house.

Our land yacht was set on a course due North, off to new waters in a secluded 10 acre patch of birchwood a few miles from Portree, and silly Dad decided to do this in the worst spell of weather we have encountered since moving to Skye.

Sure, we had to do all the boxy stuff as well mind you, as we need to be as light as possible for the tow.

On the plus side, whilst delving into dark recesses of rarely visited storage spaces, Dad did discover a long forgotten stash of tennis balls, so my stress levels were just fine thank you very much.

He also came across a metal triangular contraption, of which the function of baffled even me.

Dad explained it was called an iron and it’s for making things smooth to fit over wrinkly people.

I must admit, I’m none the wiser for having gained that information…it begs the question…why?

You just get all wrinkled again rolling in the mud and traipsing through the heather…

Luckily, the other dread we had about the move worked out just fine. Dad managed to capture Mouse, my cat, and transport him to the new location, and he settled just fine, but then again, he disnae stray far from a food bowl…