It was a Sunday evening in June on the Isle of Iona. We had worshipped that morning in the Parish Church with the local people and spent the day in the quiet of the Island, unaffected by day-trippers who would start coming again the next day.
By this time the clouds were rolling in and the sun was beginning to set, casting it's bright golden glow across the bay. It was still as we walked down to the water.
That's where my memory has been today.
It was a very good day.