LATE afternoon. And after two days of heavy Andalucian rain, which shorted out our electricity supply, the clouds break and Sierra de Lújar emerges from grey. I stand on the roof and feel the warmth of sunshine. For the briefest of moments I am in Scotland . . . Continue reading Just like Scotland . . .
IT’S cold on Lujar. The beast of a mountain has been growling beneath a dusting of snow for the past few days. The telecommunication masts that crowd its summit are rimed with ice. So different from when I stood beneath them back in 2012, throat parched and boots white with dust. Glad I’m not up there today . . . Continue reading The white towers