2 July 2017
As I type the night is upon us. Out the window my eyes are filled with a flock of stationary square white beasts. They lie in rows, in family groups and others sit alone. We have arrived at our caravan site.
The compound is surrounded by thick lush foliage. Every now and then a human will emerge from a box and race across my line of sight, face contorted as they hurry to be somewhere else. The air full of shouts and screams. The misery, the human suffering that is the Scottish midge is there for all to see.
The week just passed was spent in Glasgow and Edinburgh. This meant on Monday I once again had to drag myself and a suitcase up the Glasgow hill of pain.
Then while walking into the Edinburgh office on Wednesday morning I passed this place.
Few establishments are less likely to get my custom.
Friday I decided to take a half day so I may start my holiday early. As usual it transpired that after lunch I worked far harder than should legally be allowed. The caravan was washed. In the rain. Bike racks were fitted to the car. In the rain. Countless bags of stuff and many boxes of things were carried to the caravan. All ‘essential’ or so the domestic management assured me. In the rain.
This activity continued the following morning until by 9.30am every inch of space in the car and caravan was filled with something we will have forgotten we had taken with us should we actually need it. Then all of a sudden we were ready to go.
Three hours and £40 of diesel later – 24 mpg is enough to make you weep – we arrived at the Glenmore Camping in the Forest (caravans also welcome) site just outside Aviemore. It looks like this:
if you replace the blue sky with thick cloud and add a howling wind, intermittent rain and swarms of pre-teen children on kamikaze bicycles. And midges. Lots and lots of midges.
It has no WiFi, no TV signal and on the radio you can only get Moray Forth FM – the local commercial station in Inverness:
Their radio adverts are hysterical. “Come to Mick’s Mowers for all your gardening needs. Yes. Micks. For mowers. On the Beauly road. Open till five every day except Tuesday. That’s when Mick gets his tag checked. Mick said ‘walking’. The court said ‘stalking’. Anyway remember – Mick’s for mowers. Remember to bring your children”.
And the rather dodgy Highland FM – where the presenters seem to believe the world ends when you go 30 miles south.
Within two hours things looked like this:
Sunday it forecast rain, so we went to Inverness where we were bathed in sunshine for most of the day.
That evening I was forced to plug in the satellite system as I could not get a thing on terrestrial TV. Success was instant. I locked onto the Astra satellite at my first attempt and could access 288 channels. All in German, Polish, Turkish, Arabic or Romanian.
I’ll try again tomorrow.
Spent the evening reading. Decided to treat the domestic manager to a small alcoholic beverage to celebrate our safe arrival but she seemed underwhelmed at my generosity. Four cans for £1? Bargin!
Next update will be mid-weekish. If I don’t fall down a mountain or get eaten alive by the wildlife.
Now off to see if I can find some sort of Wi-Fi to post this. Hope I don’t get eaten by bear.
Murrays Musings 