In Tarbert on Harris not long ago I got talking to a young man who had just returned from several nights of solo camping on St Kilda - dropped off by a tiny tour boat and collected on its next return. He spoke of it as if he had spent those days in another world, and he clearly felt profoundly altered by the trip, the island, the sea, the wind, the sky, the birds. "It would be nice to go one day," I said wistfully, but then I left him as he prepared to pitch his tent on the hill and I returned to the bar of the Tarbert Hotel, knowing that I would never make the trip. (Oh, and I have just sent you an email, Dear Sir).
To begin with the end:Reading your email, my friend, was a joy and let me raise a glass of Jever Pilsener. Thank you.As for your encounter in Tarbert: How often do we think, "It would be nice to go one day", hm? And yes, "of course" – not to write "obviously" ;-) – most of us can't.For example, I could, so far, not even have a drink at the bar of the Tarbert Hotel. But it would be nice to have one, one day. And sometimes, as is well known, dreams / wishes come true; sometimes it does even only needs one's will.