It's been nearly a year since islander and Herald columnist Elle Duffy went to live on Rum, and she's never regretted a second, she says - despite the sometimes torrential rain.

Sometimes, you just have to accept that you’re going to get wet.

It’s something Coinneach and I used to say a lot to each other when we lived on the mainland. When it’s pouring rain, you can mourn your freshly washed hair and get annoyed at your sodden clothes, or you can just make peace with the fact that you’re about to be soaked through, and just roll with it.

Of course, we weren’t applying it to literal downpours. Work in the city would be overwhelming, people would be exhausting, and we’d often find ourselves ditching our tiny tenement flat for a stroll through Glasgow Green to vent. Vent about everything. The passive-aggressive emails, the annoying dramas, the seemingly never ending workload. Venting wasn’t always helpful, but walking through drizzle seemed to give it all a little more perspective.

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