Real holiday stuff, lying under an apple tree on a hot afternoon, watching the clouds. For the week that I was there, Speyside was in the throes of a heatwave. A north of Scotland heatwave, that is, with temperatures around 26C. I found it blissful, but my elderly father and his friends were, as the local expression goes, 'come-at' (afflicted). In between preparing light and what I hoped were tempting meals, turning fans up and down, moving them from room to room, supplying plentiful cool drinks, I walked in the early morning, watered plants, watched very little of Wimbledon, and watched the clouds.