When we moved into the house, the girls my wife had kept company with in her visits to the village during her school years had all gone, one was an air hostess, another a teacher somewhere else and others finding jobs where they could. A dying mining village like the fictional Cairndhu may have an idyllic setting but it has no work opportunities. Fortunately, an old friend from university had moved into a house across the back gardens and the girls became friends. Neither had been in the village over Hogmanay and when it came New Year's Eve, they were introduced to a different culture. We had a party until after the bells but the friends who had been with us until then slipped off to visit and first foot here and there and were replaced by people even I hardly knew but had seen the light on, met departing friends, and decided it would be nice to welcome the new bride with a dram. About three in the morning, exhaustion set in and we put out the light as the last visitor stumbled down the steep stairs

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