It was crisp cold March Good Friday. I stood there at the window looking out over the sea. The occasional puff of white spray whipped across the bow of the little boat as it went out through the harbour entrance. I spared a thought for those hardy souls venturing out with their nets at the ready.
I looked down at my watch and realised it was time to get going. I had been ready for almost 30 minutes, waiting, thinking, reflecting, and looking out over the sea.
I went out of the door, down the four flights of stairs, and out onto the street. I quickly pulled the zip of my fleece up the last 2 inches. Yes it was certainly cold, but as it was the morning it kind of made ok as it was a new day, and a day full of promise. I stood there for a moment looking up and down the street as though I were undecided on what to do. It seemed the right thing to do for some reason. I looked around and up at my windows to check that they were closed, and then my eyes drifted down to the sign on the building. 'The Nestings'. How appropriate in many ways. The apartment was nicely fitted out, and for the week I was renting it, it was the perfect place to be.
I started walking towards town stopping briefly to look in Stuarts. They had been open for ages I suspect offering their early morning catch. I made a note to pop in the following day. I had heard a lot about the place from a chap at the Foundry Bar pub the previous night, and just wanted to have a look, and maybe a chat.
 
(to be continued)