First of all. Here is your promised picture of the slug from the last post !

 

A big day. A very Highland day. We haven’t been doing very well with GPS lately. GPS seems to be good for the big picture, but trying to find smaller locations sends us round in circles. I could blame us, but I’d rather blame GPS! We planned on doing a walk, but when GPS ended us at a farm in a field. We decided to go to Plan B. Which was to drive to the next village north and figure something out ourselves. This village was Golspie, on the east coast and we pulled into the little, faded village tourist information board. Looming high over this village was Ben Bhraggia. Also known locally as the Mound. In Western Australia, I’d probably call it a mountain! It was a high rounded hill with a statue on top. So we thought we’d tackle that!  If you like vital statistics it’s 1,302 feet high. But it was probably the toughest climb I have done in a very long time.

Through fir forests on the outskirts, then as it got steeper and higher, and the path much narrower, the trees fell away and the hillsides were covered in low mounds of heath and heather. The climb certainly made our lungs heave and our legs protest! Very exhilerating. And always there seemed to be higher to climb. But we finally made it to the top where the cold wind howled and pushed us around. The huge statue is of the Duke of Sutherland. Notorious for his role in the misery of the Highland Clearances in the early 1800s.

The views around were spectacular. The sea spread out to the horizon, and village crouched down below and looking the other way, the rolling mountains and hills of the Highlands. We vainly tried to find shelter from the persistent wind at the base of the statue and fueled up on water and Jayne’s nuts. Going down was much easier.

Nearby was another walk. Called the Bluebell Wall to Dunrobin Castle. So we set off again. Total contrast to the last walk. Walking through dappled woodlands. With no bluebells because it’s the wrong season.

And then through a break in the green canopy you see the turrets and spires of the castle. Just like a Disney cartoon castle. The castle has a long history but completely renovated in the 1800s and is still used, mainly for tourists and functions. The Castle carpark was full of buses and cars. There was going to be a wedding there too. And a bagpiper was piping the wedding guests into the Castle. But we’re not really “Castle tour” types, and didn’t like the admission fee.

 

So we walked back to the car via the sea path below the Castle, stopping to eat a picnic lunch on the sea wall.

And just as we reached the car, the threatening rain started bucketing down. So with the teeming rain, we needed another change of plans. We had been going to do another walk. Couldn’t find anything in the little tourist book we had that covered the section – “What To See and Do if it’s Pouring with Rain and You don’t Want to Spend a Lot of Money”!

So we decided to keep heading north and drive a couple of hours to John o’ Groats. Traditionally called the First and Last of Scotland. It’s in the north-west. Have I mentioned that John’s car that we’re driving has a few quirks? Turns out that defogging isn’t one of its strengths. So as we drove along, Rosie had to lean over and constantly wipe my side of the windscreen clear so I could see where I was driving. It was raining so hard we couldn’t make out the ocean to the right of us.  Couldn’t see much of the hills and countryside to the right of us either.

But as we drove along, i saw a sign with an arrow saying “Clearance Village”. Referring to the Highland Clearances. That sounded interesting. And i was sure the rain was starting to peter out a bit. So I did a quick turn in, put our coats on, and we ran through the rain. On and on. It was much further in that I anticipated. To find a few heaps of scattered stones and boulders among the knee-high heath. It was where displaced crofters tried to eke out a living on the wind-blasted cliffs by the ocean. The rain, instead of petering, decided to pelt down harder! So we didn’t take any photos. And you’ll have to take our word that we saw them!

By the time we got back to the car we were both drenched. I told Rosie said she was not listen to any more of my suggestions, no matter what! We turned the car heaters on full bore, and away we went again It took us about 2 hours to get to John o’Groats. Not as many tourists there as I expected. The rain had stopped pelting by now, and was just mizzling. Rosie and I huddled under the sign, got another tourist to take our photo, and then went to the cafe for hot chocolate drinks!

 

Because we don’t like tracing our steps if at all possible, we decided to return a different way. We headed west and drove across three/quarters of the “top” of Scotland. The rain stopped, and as we dipped up and down through the hills, we saw stunning views of the ocean on our right. Then we turned south near the town of Tongue and this last part felt like the “real” Highlands to us.

A very narrow road. Only wide enough for one car. So if you did happen to meet an oncoming car, you had to pull right over on to the side of the road. Stunning, soaring high hills. Rounded and smooth, covered with low growth, mainly green, brown and bronze coloured heaths. An occasional farmhouse, a few remote tumbledown, abandoned cottages. Here’s one that was by the road so we explored it.

Very dark and tiny inside with just four little windows to let a bit of light in. Seemed very bleak.

 

The high hills dropped spectacularly to deep valleys or glens with often a little stream or burn running through. There were hardly any sheep either. Those that were around were sometimes near the road. once we stopped to let the sheep cross.  The landscape seemed remote and wild. But a completely different wildness and remoteness from the Australian bush.

We got back to Tain at 8 o’clock. Our trousers had mostly dried out with the car heating. But our shoes were still damp. Nevertheless we headed straight to the Royal Hotel. Next door to our host house because of hunger pains! In the main street, outside the Royal Hotel, the Tain Pipe Highland Band were playing away. They were the full regalia with the Major twirling his big baton too. They were welcoming us back!

We could watch and hear them through the overlooking windows of the Hotel as we ate a fabulous meal. Two girls in their costumes also danced their Highland fling dances to the bagpipes. I can appreciate the skill that it takes to play the bagpipes, but I have to confess that after a couple of melodies, it also starts to sound the same to me! But what a fabulous end to our Highland day. We were both a bit saddle sore when we went to bed that night!

And last thing for the day, I put my wet shoes and wet jacket to dry in front of a kitchen Aga! I’ve never done that before.

Had breakfast with a big helping of politics with our wonderful host, Jenny. I asked lots of leading questions, especially about the upcoming Scottish independence referendum. A very stimulating breakfast.

Our light filled bedroom meant that we were awake at 4 or 5am each morning!

Packed up the car and headed even further north, going the scenic, not the fastest route.

Before we left Drumnadrochit, we drove to nearby Davoch on a narrow country road in the high hills,and then walked along the side of a wooded hill which reminds me of Narnia or Tolkien stories to see the Davoch Falls, falling and splashing 300 feet to a pool below. The hillsides were covered in forty shades of green.

We stopped at the village of Beauly and wandered through these Priory ruins. Old church ruins seem to me to have a wistful atmosphere about them. And make me ponder again on the brevity of our lives and what we do with our short lives.

We meandered down Beauly High Street and saw eucalyptus plans for sale outside one little shop.

And in Campbells Tweed Ltd, I was transported back to the 1950s. The shop assistants weretwo ladies in their seventies with twin sets and pearls, doing their invoices and stock with paper and pencils. Wooden floors and wooden shop counters. Shelves piled high with all things tweed and tartan. Deerstalker hats and flat caps. Lots of colour. We found it fascinating. I tried to sneak a photo but it doesn’t do it justice. it seemed sacreligious somehow to be taking a photo in there!

Rosie and I laugh often at the signs we see.  We’ve started taking photos of the ones we can. Dingwall’s High Street shops seem to be struggling a bit against the giant supermarket Tesco that we saw on the outskirts of the town.  I’m amazed at the number of so many little towns that we drive through. You no sooner drive through one, and then you’re at the next one.

From Dingwall we were on more of a main road, driving through gentle hilly slopes and sometimes we could see the estuary away on the left, because we’re driving close to the east coast along the Firth of Cromarty.

Arrived at Tain a town of 4,000 people. I have to admit that we are sometimes having trouble with GPS and getting to our final destinations! But we eventually got there, after driving round in a few circles. The BnB we’re staying at here is in the middle of the town. The house is older and quirkier. It was originally a “but and ben” of two rooms in the 1600s, then kept getting added to for the next few centuries. The last additions were in the 1850s.

We had arrived a bit early, but Jenny and Karel graciously let us put our stuff in our room. There are 4 other lodgers in this house which has 3 stories. The doors are smaller. They are not much taller than Rosie and I. The toilet and showers both havevery determined quirks to them. Jiggling handles and turning knobs this way and that.

We ate our picnic lunch late in their kitchen, and then went off to look around the town. The sound of seagulls calling constantly. On recommendation, we walked down to the “beach”. It’s an estuary and the tide was way out, leaving brown mud and sludge in its wake. Their Town Gala is on this week, so we thought that was exciting. But when we found it down by the beach, we found that Gala means smalltown fairground with VERY LOUD music of Kenny Rodgers blaring forth. So we decided to give it a miss after all.

Wd walked around an exhibit at the local St Duthas church. St Duthas was a local medieval saint who influenced a Scottish king. And who was reputed to have done the most bizarre miracles. But we did find the exhibit interesting and it was well done.

We decided we were a bit weary after constant early mornings, and that we didn’t HAVE to the Constant Tourist! So went back to the BnB and rested in our room and read. We had a disappointing dinner at The Local. Scotch beef and guiness pie.

I am amazed at the toughness of Highlanders.  Rosie and I wear three layers – a long sleeved shirt, a jumper and a waterproof jacket on. The highlanders are mostly wearing shirtsleeves. There’s a very stiff, cold breeze blowing. Maybe they think because it’s chronologically summer, you have to dress accordingly!

We needed to walk off our Scotch pie dinner so walked for an hour or so along the estuary and through a fir wood. We’ve been disappointed that we’ve not seen any wildlife on our walks. Not so much as a squirrel, let alone a deer. (Which by the way ravages the garden of our last host, but we didn’t see any there.) We see lots and lots of wildflowers and hear and see lots of birds. But no other wildlife. So we took photos of the only wildlife we saw on this walk. The biggest, fattest, ugliest slugs I’ve ever seen. There were hundreds of them! I’ll post a photo of them next time.

Woke up early again at 5am when the sun is high in the sky. But this time the sky was full of grey clouds. A true Scottish day. We had breakfast with our host, Jenny. And it included freshly picked strawberries from a nearby farm. Who knew strawberries could be full of such sweet flavour? Forget whisky. Scotland should be famous for its strawberries! We didn’t need urging twice to finish off the bowl. In chatting away to jenny, I enjoyed listening to a local’s perspective of the events and politics of their particular region.

Rosie and I took our waterproof jackets – just in case – and walked through Drumnadrochit village, through farmlands alongside a narrow busy road the 3kms to the ruins of Urqhart Castle, perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking Loch Ness.

 

It’s set up well for the tourist trade, and we sat with other tourists and listened to a short movie in a little theatrette about the long and very bloody history of the Castle. Then we were free to wander around the ruins. My main thoughts about it all: Firstly they were amazingly skilled at building such a complicated structure. But such futility. The constant struggles back and forth, the sheer savagery. And pointlessness of it all. Lots of names that I’ve heard in history. Like Robert the Bruce, William Wallace, the kings and queens of Scotland and England. In the end, the castle was blown up by its own inhabitants so none of the enemy would ever take it. The first recorded hsitory of the place was actually St Columba who came to witness to and baptise a pagan Pictish chieftain who had a small fortifaction there. Lots of the actual is conjecture.

From the top of the castle tower, you get the most amazing views up and down the length of Loch Ness. With a wind strong enough to blow your hair off. We were very glad to have brought our jackets!  Rosie and I had brought a picnic lunch and sat beside the Loch, vainly looking for somewhere out of the wind to eat it. We sat there on the grass, watching the tourist boats chugging around the huge Loch, plying their trade in vainly looking for Nessie.

On the way back, near the village, we made a detour down a narrow walking track we discovered. After skirting round the village, the track ran out, so we asked a local for directions and then spent several hours walking the trails in the Craigmonie and Balmacaan woodlands.  I asked Rosie how she would describe them, and she says “Green with lots of open spaces under the big trees with moss and lots of flowers.” It really was beautiful. Some parts of the woodlands had huge oak trees, graceful birches, ferns, purple foxgloves and lots of other wildflowers I don’t know the names of. Other sections had tall, straight fir trees with grey lichens dripping off them.  At the very top it opened out to an area that looked like the Winnie-the-Pooh’s Thousand Acre Wood. Walking around a bend in the trail it opened out to a spectaular view looking down onto the village below and Loch Ness in the distance.

We put our rain jackets on and off about twenty times on this walk. We’d feel a few spots of rain, pull out the jackets and put them on. Then the rainspots would stop and we’d get hot from our exertions, so take them off again. But during the last half hour, the drizzly rain decided it would rain after all. But it’s just a mizzle. Scottish mist I think they call it. On the outskirts of the woodlands is a Californian Redwood, planted by a philanthropic laird in the late 1800s.

We were feeling quite weary by the time we headed back to our host house. Sore feet, tired legs and aching backs. Walking up that last steep hill, it seemed longer and steeper than I remembered! The rain set in properly by the time we got back – proper rain. After resting for a while, Rosie had to borrow a sewing needle to hew out a huge spolinter she got. Not from the long walking we’d been doing, but from the floorboards of the house we’re staying at!

It was still raining when it was time for dinner, so we wimped out and drove John’s car down to the village to Fiddlers Green again for tea. But the sun came out again soon afterwards. And it’s still shining now. But it’s time for bed!

 

It’s been a day of flux. Of constantly changing plans. After a leisurely start Rosie and I, in John’s borrowed car planned to take off for our week-long Highland jaunt. All packed up, and Rosie says to me, “Have you got the car keys?”

“No, I’ve never had them. I thought you had them!”

Couldn’t find them in the house anywhere, so Rosie rang John at work who discovered them in his pocket! He could bring them to us on his lunch break. In the meantime, Rosie and I decided to walk to a nearby shopping centre for a Barclays Bank to get cash out. My credit card had to be cancelled today due to credit card fraud. We found the ATM at the Bank, where I inserted my Savings Card and it was promptly swallowed by the ATM because the card had expired yesterday! Rosie’s card still works so she’s taken out enough money for both of us for now.

John brought the car key at lunchtime and so off we set. The original plan was for me to drive and Rosie to navigate. She doesn’t actually have a licence to drive a manual car. But just after we’d started, John rang Rosie to say she is the only one licensed to drive it. So we swopped seats. Not only is is a manual car, but it’s got 6 gears! So off we set again , using Google maps to guide us. But 10 minutes into the journey, Google Maps had a major hiccup and turned us right around to go back the way we’d come and head off in a completely different direction! A bit disorientating!

We drove through the outskirts of Edinburgh and over the high Firth of Forth bridge – or is it Forth of Firth bridge? And then we were on our way – for the next 3 and half hours. A day of mostly sunshine, but the further north we went, the cloudier it got and we drove through a couple of showers of rain. There’s no air-conditioning in the car and the vents don’t work, so it often got muggy in the car. So we would wind the windows down for a few minutes till it got too noisy and windy and then we’d roll them back up again.

It was mostly highway driving north. And the further north we went, the higher the mountains. And the balder they got too. Lots of fir trees. The farmhouses changed from stone to being whitewashed. Drove through Inverness. Can’t tell you much about Inverness as we just navigated straight through, keeping our eye on Google Maps. Once we were through Inverness we headed south again to drive half way down the west side of Loch Ness which is much wider and longer than I’d ever imagined. Steep mountains on either side of the Loch and green, green huge, high trees and so much greenery. There’s “Nessie” stuff everywhere you look – exhibitions and boat rides and cafes – it’s endless.

Our next adventure was finding the Air BnB house we’d booked. We turned off the main, narrow road to head up a very, very steep narrow road that fell away sometimes on one side. The sign at the bottom of the hill says 20% gradient. Rosie kept insisting that she was not going to do a hill start in the car, no matter what! We tried to follow the written directions all the long way to the top of this hill that felt like a mountain. And right near the top, the car stalled. So Rosie quickly learnt – under great stress – how to do a hill start on a slope like Mt Everest. But we’d come to the wrong house! So, after some instructions from a man with a rake, we turned back down the road, and this time I was driving. But don’t tell John.

And we finally found it! At the end of a little road that crept round the side of the hill through green tunnels of huge oaks and over a narrow bridge crossing the burn (Scots for a stream). Jennie who sounds very English was so welcoming and we were shown to our twin share bedroom with low sloping ceilings with a nearby bathroom. The house is neither old nor very new, but comfortably nestled into the side of the hill. Nearby you can hear the constant sound of the the burn as it rushes down the mountain. We were so glad to finally get here! And we arrived in sunshine too! Just a few threatening clouds hanging about.

After being in the car so long, we were both aching for a walk and feeling hungry too. We asked Jennie and were relieved to know we could use our legs instead of the car to find a meal. We walked back down the hill, looking at Loch Ness away in the distance under the mountain and then down the main road to the village of Drumnadrochit to have dinner at at the local pub called The Fiddlers Green. I had trout and Rosie had a burger. She needed a lot of sustenance after such a stressful day. But she said that stressful as it was, she’d rather do that than go to work! A great meal in a bar with rows and rows of a thousand different types of whisky. The Scots seem a little obssessed with that drink!

As we were driving to Loch Ness today, I saw growing by the sides of the road, wild lupins and foxgloves, broom, gorse, patches of the purple heather and wild roses. So many plants that I had to carefully mollycoddle in my garden at Melbourne and don’t even attempt to grow in Perth. I can hear the sound of cattle lowing on the evening air as I’m finishing this up. It’s still so light even though it’s going on for 10 o’clock at night. It feels like 2pm of a Perth winter’s day!

No photos today because the internet won’t allow it!

Take off your thermals. It’s always sunny in Scotland! That’s our experience anyway! Had a wonderful day with lots of new cultural experiences. Like eating fresh gooseberries when we walked to the greengrocer to stock up on some fresh fruit. Can I just say that the taste of fresh gooseberries is enough to curl not just your tongue, but your teeth too!

Rosie’s friend, Lizzie from her Israel trip last year happened to be in Edinburgh for a few days and she picked Rosie and I up and the three of us set off in her little red car driving east from Edinburgh to East Lothian. Very quickly we were driving through rolling green hills and beautiful countryside, lots of golf courses and narrow country roads. John had given us the names of some places to explore. First stop was the village of Dirleton. A classic “English” village- but don’t tell the Scots that!  Around a freshly mown village green is a village church with a squat square tower, stone cottages with front gardens full of bright colourful flowers, a ruined castle hidden behind a high stone wall and huge thick green trees and a village pub called the Castle Inn. I found it enchanting.

Parked the car and we walked down a wide path, through wheat fields ripe with grain and then through the dappled shade of woodlands over grassy hilly sand dunes to Yellowcraigs beach with a long, wide beach of orange sand and gently rolling ripples of waves. Most of the occupants of the beach were children with their bucket and spades and dogs. I think Britain has more dogs than people. It reminded me of my childhood reading of books of English children at the seaside. It exactly fitted my preconceptions!  Close by the shoreline was a little island that is supposed to have inspired Treasure Island by R.L. Stevenson who had lived nearby. Do children read that book any more?

We walked for a few miles down along the the long, wide beach where the water isn’t quite as frigid as I expected it to be. But I’m not at all tempted to go for a swim, not even with the offer of a borrowed wetsuit from John. We then walked up through a golf course that was right on the beach, being graciously waved through by the golfers. And then walking back along a John Muir marked pathway.

 

A wonderful 2 hour walk. Red poppies glowing in the sunshine on the edges of the wheat fields and paths. White or pale pink wild roses, bright yellow little buttercups, lots of wildflowers, some of them probably weeds – pink, purple and yellow. A blue moth with red spotted wings. The tumbled down stone fence walls, the ferns in the shade of the high woodland trees, the knotted gnarled trees twisted and bent by the cold winds.

We had a very late lunch at the low white Castle Inn built in the 1800s. I asked the waitress the interpretations of some of the menu items. And Rosie and I tried haggis! It was soft textured and mainly tasting of herbs. Probably to make it interesting enough to eat.

Then we drove further east to North Berwick. Which by the way is very long way from Berwick-on-Tweed, Drove down through narrow streets to the sea front and little harbour. It has a long seafaring history. Rosie and Lizzie had ice creams from a van. Because when you’re at the seaside you eat ice cream. The sea breeze was very cold. Scottish fishermen must have a very hardy breed. But there were families on the beach. While their children played with their buckets and spades, some of the adults had their shirts off and trousers rolled up, happily turning bright red. Sunburn is a badge of honour and experience here.

We walked around the remains of a little medieavel chapel right on the headland, and a little exhibit on the breeding of lobsters. Drove back through rolling green hills to Edinburgh where Lizzie left us to go on a 3 day hike of the West Highland Way, carrying all that she needed for her tramp on her back. John, after a frustrating day at work that culminated in a puncture of his bike, took us to a really nice seafood restaurant in nearby Leith. Right on the waterway with old houses lining the canal. We needed lots of interpretations again for the menu. I should have written them down because I’ve forgotten them now.

By the way – “clapshot” is mashed potatoes and turnips together – in case you were wondering! We had a wonderful meal with all sorts of British seafood. Rosie tried oysters and mussels for the first – and last – time.  We both tried black pudding. Which tasted all right – again it was mainly the flavourings I could taste. But I find it hard to get past the remembrance of the ingredients! It was very lightly sprinkling with rain when we left the restaurant. just to remind us that it does rain in Scotland after all.

Rosie and I are in Edinburgh! We first flew 11 hours with Qatar Airlines to Doha. Great airline. But 11 hours sitting in a long metal tube hurtling through the skies is never going to be a restful experience. Everything hurts physically after a few hours. My tailbone from sitting on it, every vertebrae in my spine, my head from the tight shoulder muscles.  I feel such a whiner when I know how blessed I really am to have these opportunities. But the body still aches and protests!  Rosie and I tried out some homeopathic Jetlag tablets and I think they’re helping.  I also decided not to have much screen time while flying. Instead I listened to a lot of music with an eye mask on and I think I slept more than I normally do

Flying in to Doha soon after sunrise we looked down at flat, brown endless sand plains. And I used to think Perth was flat!  Couldn’t even see the horizon which was shrouded in an orange-brown long smudge. Not sure if it was smog or sand. It wasn’t until we flew out that I saw through the plane windows the sparkling, shiny rows of highrise buildings of the city perched on the edges of the wide ocean.  In the Doha airport terminal our first sight was this.

And then round the corner was a huge statue of a big yellow teddy bear. I think that was for waiting tourists to have their photo taken in front of it.  It was certainly working.   After a few hours in the Doha terminal, we flew on for another 7 hours straight to Edinburgh.  (It was only last year that James learnt that “Edinburgh” is really “Edinborough”.)  It was strange that this flight seemed as long as the first one – probably because I was so tired. Dropping down through the thick clouds over the city, it was to see green, green, green and more green! Such a stark contrast. Green grass everywhere and wide bands of dark green trees and lots of hills.   After a long wait for my bag to appear on the carousel, and a mixup at finding John (a friend of Rosie’s whose hospitality we’re enjoying in Edinburgh), we drove through the green fields high with white lacey cow parsley and bordered by lush, dark green trees and on into Edinburgh.

 

A city of charm and elegance, houses of grey stone and long narrow windows. Didn’t see any high rise buildings at all. Lots of parks and trees. And have I mentioned all the greenery?!   John is actually English – and will never be considered a Scot, he told me, because you would have to be born here to be a real Scot. But he is allowed to vote in the upcoming referendum about Scottish independence which is being hotly debated here with strong arguments for both sides. His house is a tall, narrow Victorian building in the old suburb of Portobello. After he bought it he found lots of problems with dry rot, so he’s been working on the house for quite a while – and will be so for a long time yet. So its full of stuff and building materials piled everywhere with a thick layer of dust. I sympathise after my recent bout of kitchen renovations. He is ovewhelmingly gracious and hospitable.

 

Rosie and I are sharing a bed in the top of the house. He wanted to give up his bed for us and he would sleep on the couch. But we vetoed that, and insisted we could share a bed.   To get some fresh air into our systems, he took us for a walk along the nearby “beach”. Before World War 2, Portobello was very fashionable but it’s now a little faded and living on past glories.

 

There’s a wide promenade of red patched bitumen in front of the stone buildings fronting the ocean, which is really an estuary, with people and their dogs and prams walking up and down. The sand is coarse, orange-brown, and the stiff breeze whipped up the water.

There were a few hardy souls, wearing wetsuits, having a swim!   The most interesting sight we saw on the beach was a little white tent that had had been pitched there for months by a local eccentric. Inside this tent where he lives is a piano and as we walked past we could hear him playing “Auld Lang Syne” and written on the tent flap was “The Party Lives On”.

 

I went to church with John to his church, Charlotte Chapel in the city. It was just as I imagined an old Baptist church in Britain to look like – pews, a balcony running round the edges and high pulpit at the front. They were very warm and welcoming. Rosie didn’t come as by this time she was starting to lose her balance with jetlag.

This morning we’ve woken up to sunshine and blue skies. We slept well in a very comfortable bed but woke early at 5am. We went to bed with the sun still up and when we woke up the sun was still shining! John doesn’t have curtains on his windows, so he’s hung a red sheet there. We’re planning on an easy day today. While I’ve been writing this, Rosie has been sorting out phones, although ‘wrestling’ would probably be a better word, because of the frustrations she’s going through. It’s going to be a lovely day!

 

You can tell this is a Blog in a Fog, because I’m tired and I’m burbling and don’t know when to stop writing!

Got the passports… check!

Got the Lonely Planet guide… check!

Got the thermal underwear… check!  Because the summer weather in Edinburgh is very similiar to winter here in Perth! Not that we use thermals in winter here. But you just never know….

It’s been a few years since I’ve done an overseas exciting holiday adventure.  All the possibilities, the wonderful and exhilerating unknowns ahead. The adventures lurking around the corners.

But the suitcase is still empty, and we leave in a few hours tonight.  So I need to stop procrastinating and get into the packing.  It’s all the little decisions about what to take and what to leave behind that is the hardest thing about setting off on a journey.  Such a “first world” problem to have!

These are random trees

Life is like a walk along the River.

Sometimes I walk along the River near my place, looking out for pelicans or dolphins or black swans. But I can’t find them! Although it’s usually easier to find pelicans or black swans. Dolphins are a little more elusive and months can go by without seeing them. But if instead I go for a walk along the River to spend time with a valued friend, unexpectedly I stumble upon them – the dolphins or the pelicans. And very occasionally, it’s both!

So if in Life, when I am constantly looking out for happiness or personal fulfillment as my end goal, they prove elusive. But if I’m learning to walk with God in love, truth and grace, then the end products of happiness or fulfillment are also there. But they are the by-product, not the goal.

Yesterday I picked up my grand-daughter in my car. As we went whizzing down the freeway, she wriggled and squirmed in her toddler car seat and made soft, but unrelenting protest noises at her situation.  I fed her crackers, not because she was hungry, but because it provided a distraction for her and relief for me!

When we got to my home there were noisy and messy tradesmen working in the kitchen, we went for a walk with Pixie in her stroller-pram.  And she was a different child.  Together we could point at interesting things and learn new words. Point to crows perching on rubbish bins as they pulled out ragged pieces of rubbish.  Point to magpies poking their beaks into the grass as they strutted around the lawns. Point to little willy wagtails as they pivoted and pirouetted with their erect black and white tail feathers. Point and exclaim at tiny, silver planes high up in the blue sky. Point at dogs taking their owners for a walk. Living life in the slow lane opens up whole new worlds – of sight, of sound, of colour, texture and smells.  And you can learn new words, practice saying them and laugh at the weird world. It’s not a hard-and-fast Law of the Universe, but slowing down gives you room to breathe and create.

Living life like you’re whizzing down the freeway can carry destructive seeds. It’s much slower to plant a seed. Or a garden.  And watch it grow.  But it’s more creative and fulfilling. Destroying a garden with a fire, a hoe or a slasher can be quickly done and leaves havoc and heartache in its wake. Crafting slowly a book, a poem or a song. Or turning wood or fine-tuning a car. Baking a cake. And done with care and lack of speed.  And all this can be quickly and easily destroyed with a hammer or a match.

The same with the lives I touch. It takes much more time to build into another’s life. With carefully chosen words and actions.  And it can so easily be crushed or destroyed – by careless actions, angry words quickly and thoughtlessly done. I have so many shortcomings and failures, and often behind them is my impatient spirit.  I want quick resolutions, fast answers and relief of felt tensions. But speed can often be destructive or limiting. I need to walk more slowly and look all around me. Learn to live more calmly with tensions and unresolved griefs.  I need to take more slow breaths.  To live a life in praise of Slow!