The peat cutting is complete and there is no question of not deserving these balmy hot days where sky and sea seem to have merged into one continuous palette of blue through Prussian, cobalt to ultra marine, or that we will have to pay for it later when August comes raging in like a bad tempered bull. There is rather an understandable need for sun a topping up on vitamin D after a long dark winter. The cuckoo heralds another sun soaked Sunday, bumble bees atop dandelions the air still and blessedly free from midges. In Tolsta church at eleven o'clock the 25 faithful chant the psalms in Gaelic while the rest search through drawers for shorts and bathing costumes and where did the plastric cups go for the picnic set? This is a day for total immersion, drenching the uncreamed lilly white skin in full sun, why else would they call it sunday? Down at Traigh Mhor beach those making a day of it have already filled the limited car parking and by mid day they are parked along the road side and passing places. Already after nearly a week of this weather there is talk of how long will it last, perhaps to mid week and that adds a certain urgency to enjoying the day. By two the massive sands of Traigh Mhor are lightly sprinkled with people some strolling in the shallows trousers rolled up, other playing football on a full sized pitch while toddlers toddle towards the calm waters edge. I strip off down to my underwear and head for the gentle lapping of the millpond Minch. Having little insulation my swim is short sweet and exhilerating. More arrive through the afternoon while other roast a lobster pink and they at least will pay for it tomorrow.