A dead-end walkway behind two of Dundee's most-visited landmarks is the stage. As the rain spits down, a crowd gathers as lyrical stories set in the city, both real and imagined, ring out across the Tay.
I was back in Glen Doll at the weekend, walking with a Scots Magazine group, and found it looking like winter but feeling like spring, that typical Highland brew that materialises whenever the frontiers of these two seasons rub up against each other. But, for me, the trouble with travelling to Glen Doll is having to drive through Glen Clova without stopping. It’s a bit like having to drive through Skye simply to catch the ferry to Harris, except Glen Clova has a place in my heart of hearts claimed by no other landscape.