Castlehill - then and now

Castlehill.

I loved it from the moment I walked in - it welcomed me - it was home. It was drafty in the westerly gales and subject to mildew. Sometimes it had sheep in its front garden. But it was cozy and warm and wonderful and had traditional highland charm. It held us close for three years and was filled with music, comradship, holiday celebrations and ceilidhs, teas with friends, dinners with neighbors, and presents from a beloved visiting cat.







Castlehill is still there today. It has been transformed into a beautifully appointed holiday home with under-floor heating, a well appointed kitchen with all the mod-cons, a lovely bath with heated towel racks, inviting bedrooms and a fabulous view from the new sun porch. You couldn't ask for a better place to relax, watch the sea and revel in the wonderful changing light on the islands and mountains across Loch Broom.


But gone are the bright red gates that marked our home even from out on the sea, and supported Old Glory on the 4th of July.

Now there is a proper drive going up to the house with an ordinary gate that says "House for Let".





The back of the house has been torn off and rebuilt and the house has a much more modern open plan. Everything has been improved for comfort and efficiency and is done very well. Gone is the clapboard kitchen with the diabolical sock-eating washing machine and the two tiny stacked refrigerators. The new kitchen is everything you could wish in modern conveniences.



Gone is the coal shed that I loved - the shed of sheep-lust fame. My seed wall no longer calls the birds to sing and swing in the rowan tree outside the kitchen window. Now there is a proper back entry to keep out bugs and slugs and things that go squish in the night.





The old steading has been cleaned up and landscaped - the jumble of artifacts from long ago no longer clutters the floor and crowds the spaces. Everything is neat and clean and well-ordered.





A graceful arch now leads from Drake's next door to Castlehill, where a wire-topped stone wall was once the only way to cross - a challenge to darling little boys climbing over to appear in our kitchen in their wellies - waiting for a natter and a drink with ice cubes.






Castlehill would be a wonderful place to spend a holiday.

But it is no longer our highland home.