Crake and ales

N SPITE OF THE GOLDEN Hebridean sun, the rain was coming down hard. “It all depends what you want,” John Docherty said, standing at the window and looking out over the sea. “What do you want?” The question felt like an uncomfortably existential one. “Well, I want a big sea trout really,” I replied. John shrugged as though to say we all want big sea trout and then told me again that I’d come to North Uist about two months