9 July 2017
Monday
An easy day. Alice spent it staring at her phone “Reading a book she had downloaded”. We made a note to investigate which author she found so fascinating. Went for a walk with the DM and stumbled across an abandoned pet cemetery.
‘Here rests Nipper. A faithful and loyal companion. I miss you nearly as much as the butcher does.’ How touching!
I tried to tune the satellite dish again and got 580 channels nearly all of which were in Arabic. There was one English one – Aljazeera. Gave it a miss as we had no desire to learn what western infidel scum we are, nor did pro-celebrity international wife stoning appeal.
Tuesday
This was the big walk day. From the bottom Cairngorm ski station to the top one then onwards to the summit. As you can see Alice was really keen:
And overjoyed when we reached the top station:
Then when we finally got to the very top she could barely contain her excitement:
When we got back I spent an hour in the corner of a deserted car park stealing someone else’s Wi-Fi so I could research satellite alignment.
I learnt a lot about azimuths and the like from the excellent www.robssatellitetv.com, then when I clicked his About link was shocked to discover Rob was actually dead.
I am sure he would have been pleased to know his knowledge ensured the domestic manager didn’t miss any of the weekly tripe she likes to watch.
Wednesday
The DM took Alice and myself 11 miles north so we could cycle a section of the Speyside Way back to Aviemore. A finer pair of athletes you are unlikely to see.
Don’t be fooled by Alice’s smile. Despite the amazing views and countryside on route it was several hours of silence punctuated by bouts of serial moaning.
“Hate this stupid bike”
“Why are we doing this? I mean, what’s the point?”
“What, ANOTHER hill?” when confronted with the slightest of inclines that would not trouble a zimmer dependent pensioner.
On our return Alice was too tired to do anything but read the book on her phone – and I again reminded myself to have a look at what she was reading – so the Domestic Manager and I went for a 4.5 mile walk round loch Morlich.
We had been gone about 4 minutes when we received a phone call from Alice. The electric in the caravan was ‘broken’ and there were several flashing red lights on the main control panel.
“Are there flames or smoke?” I asked.
“I don’t think so” she replied. In my opinion it is the sort of question that requires more of a Yes or No answer, but I let it pass. Confident the issue was minor we continued on our way.
We saw red squirrel. You will have to believe me when I say that the red thing actually is a squirrel.
The DM wondered if it was a bit tame due to all the tourists.
I would say more like Tourist Friendly. As soon as it saw us it dived down the tree and under a small grubby blanket with just its head sticking out. Up until then thought squirrel’s incapable of adopting a needy expression but at that moment I was proved wrong.
With one paw it picked up old MacDonalds coffee cup and started to shake it at us. With the other it picked up a sign that said
‘Dray and 15 Juveniles to support. Please give money or nuts. Nuts preferred’.
On our return and full of new knowledge thanks to the recently departed king of the satellites Rob, I gave the satellite dish another go and managed to get it working, with the help of a small rock under one leg.
We investigated Alice’s reading matter and found it to be an app allowing access to volumes full of swearing and filth. An argument ensued and the app was deleted. Don’t think that is the end of it though.
Thursday
We went for a shopping trip into Aviemore and took a wander around the MacDonald Highland resort shop. If you have not been it is in a resort complex surrounded by several large hotels. We were frequent guests before Alice grew up and became so expensive.
The DM loves a browse but this picture tells you all you need to know.
If you can’t read it the price tag says SALE £37.80. For a pair of socks.
Alice and Jane then went off to Graton-on-Spey to paint pottery while I decided to make the lone ride from Aviemore back to the campsite. This turned out to be much more of a challenge as I had first thought, as I had forgotten it is almost entirely uphill.
Friday, Saturday and Today
Three days of walking, eating and not much else.
Camp
I feel I must share something that has come to my attention since we have been here. And that is the discovery that some people are not the cleanest.
The communal toilet block is a large oblong room. Down one side is a long row of sinks each with its own mirror. Down the other side is a row of cubicles at the end of which is a metal trough. Remember it’s a men’s toilet used exclusively by men.
My short and infrequent visits to this room have revealed:
1. Only 50% of men wash their hands afterwards
2. Around 20% don’t use toilet paper after they have ‘been’. The dispensers are pretty noisy and you can tell.
3. Some people are very vocal, or rather just noisy when they go
Due to the nature of the clientele – campers and ‘back to nature’ types – it is never going to be completely spotless despite the best efforts of the staff. Even so I witnessed two things that I found beyond belief.
1. A chap walked in reading from his phone. He was wearing shorts and barefoot. I worry about how dirty the soles of my shoes are going to get on that floor. He went to the trough, proceed to relieve himself then due to his fixation with his phone peed all over his own feet. He swore, shook his feet like a cat that’s trodden in a puddle and carried on as if nothing had happened
2. One chap went into a cubicle and was very vocal as he went about his business. Then mid-action he could clearly be heard brushing his teeth at the same time. After a few seconds he dropped his toothbrush and it slid out from under the cubical along the filthy floor. A boot appeared from under the partition and waggled about until it retrieved his toothbrush. He then picked it up and immediately continued to brush his teeth.
Two nights left. I do love going on holiday but a bed wider than two feet would be good.
Murrays Musings 