Looking for more in Scotland's Stories?


Author: Kirsty Niven

Polystyrene hail flings down

while the sun beats and beats,

nonsensically Scottish

and oddly beautiful –

perfectly framed by the square

of the caravan’s tin window.

A morse code soundtrack

taps itself out on the roof

as I scribble in my notebook.

Pins and needles in my feet,

trapped under the snoring clumber,

but at least they’re warm.

The pencil grinds down to a nub,

pages overflowing in a gush

with thoughts and plots.

Inspiration and imagination unlocked

by the safety and peace

of a home away from home.

The kettle clicks on, their naps are over,

just as ‘the end’ is etched in block capitals.