Dearest Mira,
Thank you for your wishes, I appreciate your and every one else's thoughts. I should just say that I don't actually live on my yacht, although I did sail her up from Plymouth to here over the summer.
She lies at an anchorage just off the island I now live on, in a one bedroom former croft house overlooking a bay littered with islets and seals and all the fish I can eat. Sea Eagles rest and spy from the toppermost branches of some nearby trees, stags watch me in the bath (no frosted vanity glass here) and pine martins eat banana from my hand, and sometimes cakes from the counter if I leave the door open.
I sail two or three times a week, weather permitting and often go around the headland to shop at the smallest village in history, to the one shop which sells just cans, cards and potatoes, and a handy supply of peat for the fire. None of your eco-warrior babble up here, peat keeps you warm, alive and vibrant, which to me at least is a happier circumstance than saving a little bit of land for nobody to look at. Murdo the peat cutter appreciates the benefits too, I'm sure.
On a clear day, I can sit atop the highest point on the Island and see where Ireland is, I can't actually see her, but I know where she is and it becomes worth the climb, something I used to think of as nothing, but now is a major achievement which helps me appreciate the small wonders in the life I am left with, and I don't worry anymore about people leaving the seat up in the loo, and such other crises that trouble the undertroubled mind.
Lizzie xx