It was a day of classically thick Hebridean fog over the bay. Only the palest of hues had been visible and they felt weighty, as if the skies were mulling over important strategies - shut away in their murky boardroom of uninspiring suits.
The hours wore past and tidal necessities of the currently invisible sea rolled round. As with most tide changes, the atmosphere allows a brief interlude in proceedings. Meeting room doors start to open to release tentative curls of pink and grey unfurl, seeping out to impregnate the fog with downy textures.