Connel Bridge from the South

I have never yet managed to get a decent shot of Connel Bridge, let alone on a phone, while passing in a moving bus. So here it is.

Today was our mother's birthday. I got her up, breakfasted and dressed by 9.55, as instructed. This was not easy. Then someone called K from her former village came to take her to something called Open Church, in Glencoe.

This meant I had some time off. Hurrah! I caught the bus from the village to Oban, which I found cold, cloudy and disappointing. Many of the small independent shops have closed, replaced by chain stores or tartan tat emporia. I forgot that I was supposed to be looking for a universal remote control, and bought a dress instead, in a charity shop, for a fancy dress event in Stroud.

Favourite moment? Having a cappuccino in Pizza Pizza, watching the harbour. I always enjoy that small pleasure. Rushed back to the North pier to catch a bus back to Benderloch, but the Ganavan bus came first. Decided to go to the beach instead.

Ganavan Sands was sunny and sandy. More developed than it was 50 years ago, but still pretty. I took the newly- constructed cycle path away from the shore, to the village of Dunbeg, and found it easier than the old footpath. On arrival in Dunbeg, I got lost among the houses, but eventually located a bus shelter. A man in a wheelchair was waiting there. Rain had started to fall. The bus arrived and went down into the village. About ten minutes later, it came back. The man in the wheelchair got on, via a ramp. The bus driver was a Geordie. He told me I'd be best to take 'his' bus back to Oban, then wait a few minutes until he drove it back, past Dunbeg again, to Benderloch. I was bored of the bus shelter by then, so I agreed.

The bus started up the tiny slope to the main road, but got stuck. The engine kept shutting off. Various tactics were tried. A small boy started wailing "there's no cars coming! Why are we no going?" until I told him that the bus was broken. Somehow, after a million attempts and all the passengers leaning forwards, we got across the junction and back down the road to Oban. When the man in the wheelchair got off, someone made a remark implying that his chair had broken the bus. I found that extraordinary.

Near Tesco's car park, we waited until a replacement bus was delivered. A mechanic drove the old one away. I began to feel I was in a West Highland soap opera involving public transport, and personalities. Back up the enormous hill (Bealach an Righ) we went in the new bus, detouring via Connel village, then over the bridge which has played a huge role in my consciousness since ever I can remember, and back to Benderloch.

My sister K was just leaving the flat. Nephew N was there with mother, who had had a lovely day, with cake, flowers and cards. She kept showing them to us, along with a book about Glencoe that she'd bought the day before, which was mysteriously covered in marmalade. We had some chat, and I made everyone finish the carrot soup I'd made a few days earlier. Nephew E. Arrived off the school bus and uncle A, with a bunch of tulips and a box of chocolates. We drank tea. Sister K came back from her second job, and we piled into the car to go out to a hotel for dinner.

Sister M and her partner S, and daughter F, joined us there. The hotel is where my eldest sister T held her wedding reception 40-plus years ago, and it has recently had a makeover and is now very smart, with a new menu to match. I had Cullen Skink and the G-F fish and chips. Delicious. Nephew N left to catch the train back to Glasgow (Connel station is very handy for the hotel) and we drank coffee because we were too full for cranachan. I'm not sure about tablet ice cream either, it sounds very sweet. I hope our mother enjoyed herself. She kept flashing a ten pound note and asking if that would be enough, but when we came to pay, we found that our uncle A had already phoned ahead and settled the hill for us! That was a welcome surprise.

We drove back, I helped get mother into bed, explaining that I might not see her in the morning, as I was leaving early to catch the morning train back to Stroud. She has only just got used to my being there, and kept insisting that I must come back. Heartbreaking.

I went upstairs to the guest room, which had suddenly become a bombsite after being kept tidy all week, and attempted to pack whilst listening to a podcast. Realised that I hadn't listened to the News for a while week. All this is about to change when I return to my everyday life in Stroud.