Stumbling my way through the mists of time. Or: It’s a wee wet, windy and wobbly walking among the ancients — black houses, brochs and standing stones of the Isle of Lewis, Outer Hebrides

A pleasant scent - moist and earthy - signaled that peat was burning. A marker depicted an interior. Despite the homely scene - smiling occupants - I wasn't convinced that living in such circumstances was as lovely as it would have us believe.