Last wallow and home
Midnight has just struck, my backup has just kicked in (it's set to do it at night), everything is glacially slow as a result, and I've been up since 6am. I'm also at home again, so this will be my last confession of nostalgia with multiple photos ...
The morning was grey and still - and consequently midgy - as we trotted back and forth to the car with stuff. We made it for the 10am deadline by which we were supposed to leave the cottage, but didn't quite rush the last bit - we'd had to lug a big black bag of rubbish up to the bins, after all, and arrange an insane amount of stuff in the boot of the car ...
And then we were off, driving down the winding road to the glen, to ... well, not to the ferry. Not right away. Instead we parked opposite the primary school so that I could walk up the road leading to the row of what were originally estate workers' cottages where my parents rented number 4 for about 22 years. The first photo in the collage is my surreptitious shot of that house, now much bedizened with flowers and windows draped in quantities of pink net. At least the yew hedge is still there; orginally every house had a hedge like that on each side of its tiny front space, giving an illusion of privacy if you sat reading outside, as I frequently did.
After that, we headed back to the complex of buildings that houses Arran Aromatics as well as our destination - the Arran Cheese shop - to buy some more of the delicious soft ewe's milk cheese we'd tried. We also had a coffee and a rhubarb and custard scone with jam to keep us going - and then we did get off to Lochranza and the ferry queue. I had a half-mile wander through Lochranza while Himself dozed in the car, and then we were off - on the MV Catriona, not exactly named after my granddaughter but certainly named after she was. I always feel that bereft sensation as we leave the hills astern ...
We drove home via the Co-op in Lochgilphead to pick up a few essentials, arriving home to sunshine and a garden full of colour. When we were in Sorrento in May there was a heatwave and my neighbour watered my pots and they all burst into bloom for her; now they've done it again and there was a riot of sweet peas and second-flush roses and the phlox that looked as if it wouldn't and nasturtiums of course - and two great trails of pale wisteria blooms, that I certainly wasn't expecting at this time of year. It all smelled rather heavenly and felt somehow welcoming.
Tomorrow is here now, and we have a busy day ahead. Mad, huh?
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