It’s a long way to flipping Airdrie…

Well, technically Newhouse I suppose but close enough. Night one of my mini tour of Scotland starts here. Edinburgh tomorrow night, Portlethen on Thursday and then the highight of the week… Stirling and Bloody Scotland on Friday. Can’t wait. Might be a tad excited. Can you tell?

I’ll cover around 900 miles give or take this week but it’s not all bad. Apart from someone turning on the shower almost as soon as I crossed the Scottish border, I still love the drive up here. It puts me in mind of summer holidays as a child, me, my middle sister and my brother all stuck in the back of the family car, our dog Brandy on our laps, pootling up the M6 towards the campsite in Mortonhall with either The Baron Knights or The Kids From Fame tapes blasting from the car stereo. I really miss Brandy. He was the best dog ever. Could never call for out cat, Whisky in front of him as it drove him nuts. Just goes to show you really can’t mix your spirits… ;0)


There was a time when I was little that I used to look at the hills on either side of the M6 as we passed by the Lake District, and I would imagine that they were actually long dead dinosaurs, who had been covered by a patchwork blanket of green velvet as they laid down for their final sleep. I was 5 or 6 then and knew they were extinct, though had no idea what extinct meant. I also know (now) that they would have to have been some fairly big dinosaurs to make hills that big but at that age, size has no real meaning and you have no concept of the impact of decomposition. It’s also very unlikely that I actually thought the velvet blanket thing, probably more that they’d gone moldy, but I like to think my mind is a little more poetic these days.

Of course, that was then and this is now. I’m no longer 5 or 6, far from it, and at some stage in my early teens, my brain switched from poetic dreamer to boring statto. If it wasn’t fact, it wasn’t interesting. I am slowly recapturing my love of the creative, my childhood obsession with books, reading, writing and all things creative. I guess that probably comes through in my min essay-esque blog posts, but hey ho. I’ve a lot of time, reading, poetry and maybe even living to catch up on and I make no apologies for that.

Now, when I drive north on the M6 I no longer see dinosaurs, but I still remember them fondly. That drive was one of the few times we all had fun together, singing along to ‘The Barbara Woodhouse Song’, driving Brandy nuts with our caterwauling. These days I just marvel at incredible stunt sheep, those wondrous beasts who see to always be at the very top of impossibly steep hills and yet never fall off. Just how do they do that?

Happy Tuesday all





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