Sitting in the sunshine at Inverness airport, waiting for my connection to Stornoway for the Hebridean Celtic Festival, trying to stop grinning with excitement.
I've never flown to Stornoway and whilst I love the ferry the times just didn't work out so I'm getting the plane instead. I'm looking forward to some fantastic scenery from the air as we fly over the hills and mountains of the west coast of Scotland. But that's not the reason I'm grinning. It's the festival itself... I don't know if it's the area, the scale, the sheer quality of the acts appearing, the size of the welcome, the feeling that you've chanced upon something quite special, magical almost, if you believe in all that.
I don't know.Maybe its remote location is part of the attraction, making visitors feel like they've really made an effort? Every year I feel torn between shouting from the rooftops just how great this festival is- or keeping it secret so it doesn't run the risk of becoming a huge impersonal corporate affair.
Maybe in four days time I'll be able to put my finger on it. Until then, I have a plane to catch...
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