How do you say that? Air-raid?? That’s peculiar. Err-raid? Err-ud?
Whatever. We’re on Erraid, a small island next to Iona off the west coast of Scotland. It’s about a mile square, hosts 9 houses and no cars, and has, according to my 10-year-old daughter, the cleanest air there is.
We’ve landed here for an indefinite time. We start with two weeks and then see how it goes. This is an exercise in accepting things as they are: because of the way the islanders welcome visitors, there is no way to know how long we will be here. This has been not only a logistical challenge, but a fairly big emotional challenge, too.