Holiday Day 3
Monday 25 October Glencoe
Suggested song: The Battle Hymn of The Republic - Odetta
There’s an awful lot of weather in Scotland. We left the windows ajar last night so I was sung to sleep by the wind and the rain, the swirling storm soothing me back to sleep as I woke in the small hours.
I lay in for a while, watching the small boat in the loch, both of us resisting the forces seeking to lift us from our beds. I was the first to blink, the promise of a hotel breakfast luring me to the huge picture windows of the restaurant.
Remember the management consultant? His other advice to prepare me for this week was ‘there’s no such thing as the wrong weather, only the wrong clothes’. The sort of people who say that own fleeces, waterproof trousers and walking boots. I packed sequins, a flowing trouser-suit and some fancy underwear. It’s a holiday, goddamit, and those are only ever the right clothes.
Today took us out hiking on a short trail in Glencoe, the waterfalls and streams distracting me from my internal debate about the difference between water-resistant and waterproof coats. I had next to no time to wonder whether I had made the wrong choice, even though I chose by far the cheeriest yellow coat in the shop. I had no time to curse the rain for whipping my newly dried hair up and round my face, grabbing at my cheeks like an overenthusiastic auntie. All I could do was concentrate on the path, on the mountains and on the cold air clearing away my post-breakfast torpor.
Still, I was glad to retire to a bar for lunch, and gladder when I got to meet a couple of stags who had wandered over to see whether the holidaymakers had anything interesting. (I didn’t mention the sequins).
This afternoon was given over to exploring Glen Etive road. It’s a bit of an A-list star, having previously featured in Skyfall, and like most A-listers are even more breathtaking up close. The sun moved over the mountains, flooding the valleys with golden light, illuminating the water flooding down the rock faces so it looked like molten silver. All I could do was stand in awe, looking and recording, trying to imprint the view into my mind, as a memory I can call on when the grey fog of everyday life threatens to overwhelm me.
There’s an awful lot of weather in Scotland. I’m sure they can spare a bit for me to bring home.
Goodnight.
Love you, bye,
Liz xxx