I gaze over the tiled rooftops onto the bridge and over onto the Black Isle. The bridge connects us to the other side of the Moray Firth and I can see the hills glistening in the sunlight, their tops dusted in snow. A boundary of trees can be seen as I look directly down the hill and next to the field of Highland cattle is the academy I used to go to. I trace the route I used to take with my finger as I lean out my window. The walk to school seems so long ago, more than just a few years.