As Irene was so good to me during my stay with them, I asked her to dinner at the Indian restaurant in Callender. Their food is excellent, and we go there quite often as a group, me Hanna , Liz , and whoever else wanted to come. I asked Hanna and Liz whether they would like to come, but paying their own bills, as they are two expensive customers, that is with all the drinks they enjoy with their meals. As usual I was the designated driver, as I rarely have more than two wines, and of course the new policeman was still very vigilant, and I think I have said it before, but he had relieved about sixty percent of the Strathyre men from their drivers licences
We set out in the wee Panda, and we were in high spirits, intent on enjoying our night out before I left for home. Both Liz and Irene were already highly sozzled when we left, and they were so full of life and energy, and although I knew people were watching us with a teeny bit of revulsion, I couldn't care less, as I have decided to just enjoy the evening.
The meal was as usual so good, and we all over- ate, and over-drank as well, me having had three wines instead of my two, but as it was quite late, and a week-day, we hoped that the policeman would be in his bed by now!The young waiter had for some reason decided that Liz was the one with the money, not that I blamed him, as she always looked very stylish. So he was pussyfooting her, and as she was quite drunk, she played along, and I could see this young Indian boy licking his lips for the expected giant tip!
At last the owner came to inform us that they were about to close, and watching the other three trying to get out of their chairs, I knew that I was in for a hard time, as not one of them was capable of walking to the car unassisted.
But the people from the restaurant came up to scratch beautifully, and they helped the three ladies to the car, where upon sitting down, they all promptly fell asleep!
I was now not too worried, as I intended to just leave them in the car to sleep it off when we got home.
But then disaster struck! When I started the Panda it made one funny noise, and the next moment a stream of water started running from underneath us, and down the road. I got out to see what was happening, and realized that my radiator, that was a bitty dicy, had gone, and we would not be able to drive home in the Panda. I tried the restaurant, but all was dark and quiet, I suppose they had just waited for us to leave before running for their beds. I was in a tizz, because I couldn't phone people at that time of the morning to fetch us, as they all would be nicely sozzled at this time of night, the Scottish being people who do not play with the whiskey, or the beer!
But Lizzy sat up suddenly, and in a voice devoid of emotion, asked why the heck were we not home yet. She could take her drink better than the others, who were both snoring disgustedly with their mouths hanging open.
She then had the audacity to phone Katy, a young girl who once worked for her, and Katy sent her man, who had just that day got his license back, to pick us up, and I wondered at his condition, as it would be bad if he lost his license a day after getting it back!

The drive back from Lochness to Strathyre was horrendous, as the murky sky had now became like a vicious, roaring monster itself, and the wind blew the heavy clouds hither and thither, as if he didn't know what to do with them. We were going to look for somewhere to sleep over, but in the end Liz decided that as it was not all that far to go still, she wanted to sleep in her own bed.
As she is one very nervous woman, specially after five if she had no glass of red to fortify the old nerves, she became like a woman possessed, and I must say, watching her from between my hat and scarf, as I was yet again covered like one mummy on the roll, and seeing the shaking hand holding the cigarette, and the wildness of eye when she gave me a stare, I felt a wee pang of nervousness myself.She is actually a very good driver, and I never felt any pangs when driving with her, but tonight, with the wind howling around the car, and my layers of clothes blown almost of my body, and the long, long pulls Lizzy took on one cigarette after the other, I almost lost my nerve.
But we made it, and poor Benny was so glad and excited to be home, and not having to go through the torture he was going through the passed two weeks again, that he ran around like a wind-up toy, his tongue hanging out, barking like he would never stop. I felt so sorry for the poor old boy, as he just was not a good passenger!
As always I was a bitty teary when driving into Strathyre after a longish absence, as I had found so much joy and happiness with the people, and in the mountains and loch Lubnaig, and the river Balvaig that so softly and gently made it's way down to the loch. The fact that I would be leaving in a few days did not help, so I walked down to the Balvaig, and sitting down on a tiny beach on it's bank, the lovely song, 'Bonnie Strathyre' came into mind, and that just opened the tearducts, and I cried, not exactly knowing why.
Here are the two first verses of Bonnie Strathyre.

There's meadows in Lanark and mountains in Skye,and pastures in Hielands (highlands) and Lowlands forbye, but there's no greater luck that the heart can desire, than to herd the fine cattle, in Bonnie Strathyre

 Oh, it's up in the morn and awa' tae the hill, when the lang (long) summer days are sae (so) warm and sae still, till the peak of Ben Vorlich is girdled with fire, and the evening fa's gently on Bonnie Strathyre. 

Oh how I loved that place. You will find Ben Vorlich just before coming to Strathyre, where it keeps vigil over loch Lubnaig and the surrounding countryside, while on the other side my beautiful loch Voile keeps watch over the bewitched Balquidder Glen!  Ben Vorlich is called the mountain of fairies, and I could well believe that fairies and elves lived amongst all the old trees with their gnarled roots growing in the most amazing patterns!

We were on our way back, all the way down to Lochness, where I planned to have a good look to see if I couldn't see the monster that so many people had apparently seen, but it's existence had never been proved. Thinking of the cold deep waters of my loch, Loch Voile, where sometimes huge fish jumped out of the water, I could well imagine that strange and wonderful things lived deep down in the blackness.
On the way down we stopped at a famous fish and chip restaurant, famous because Princess Diana's grandmother used to go there a lot, and there were pictures of the Princess and her Grandmother having a meal, and it looked like they had a real good time.The proprietress was very proud of her famous customer and her granddaughter, but she was also a delightful lady, and we enjoyed her stories about the famous writer of many love stories.
At Lochness I sat for ages trying to see into the deep darkness of the loch, but it was a murky day, and I couldn't see nothing. But I remembered a lovely story that Jess Smith, a Tinker woman told on a cd she gave me one night at the launching of 'The Last Wolf', a book by Jim Crumley, a writer I came to know when working at the Kingshouse Hotel.
There was once a gluttonous and selfish woman, as big as a grown ox, with thick arms and huge splayed feet that were swollen round like two balloons. She made her husband and son work from morning till night, and all the money they earned she saved in a flower vase, feeding them just enough to stay alive, while she bought mountains of food that she gulped down when they were at work. But for some time she had been saving to buy beef on the farmers market, where only the best beef was sold. So on the morning of the market she counted her money, and danced around gleefully, as she had enough saved for plenty of beef. She fed her husband and son only a crust of dry bread, and told them not to come home before midnight, and off she
went to the market.
In the meantime a demon cat with sharp nails and yellow glowing eyes had crept into her tent, and went to sleep on the bracken in the darkest corner. Peggy came home with the best beef from the market, and as the meat sizzled and the fat splattered, her mouth dribbled from lust, and she could hardly wait for it to cook. But at last the meat was done, and she devoured it by tearing off huge bits and almost swallowing it without chewing. 'Och, ye bonny wee meaty', she moaned between bites, smacking her huge lips, and when she was finished she sank onto her side of the tent, and promptly went to sleep.
The demon cat now woke up, and smelling the meat, he felt the hunger pangs in his tummy, and when he saw Peggy sleeping deeply, he silently went up to her, and stood over her, his yellow eyes aglow. Peggy woke up then, and if the demon cat thought he would frighten and eat her, he was mistaken, as she suddenly grabbed him and threw him across the tent. A huge struggle then started, and the two growled and bit, and rolled down to the loch, flattening bracken and small trees that were in their way, and then into the loch they rolled.
They kept on fighting, and slowly sank to the bottom, making the water churn and gurgle, until both were drowned.
Nobody saw this, except an evil Sea Kelpie, who dived down to the bottom of the loch to tell the demon king of the darkness about it, and the demon king decided to give both Peggy Moore, and the cat, immortality to fight on forever. So, when they occasionally came close to the surface, and the water started churning, and people saw what look like a monster, remember this: it is the small head and big groping arm of Peggy Moore trying to kill the monster cat that they would have seen.

We were tired and cold and I was half frozen, as poor Benny did not have any fresh ginger left, and with the tight little bends in the road, he had a hard time of it. Shame, he was quite frantic, and vomited twice, and we had to stop for Liz to clean up the mess. I then did not only have Benny's terrible breath to contend with, but also the smell of his half digested breakfast, and it made my tummy turn, and my eyes water.
So my window, the side that Benny always stand at, was opened all the way, and as the rain was still pelting down, I was wet, and icily cold, and even though I had two jerseys, my jacket, and a rain jacket on, with my hat on, and a thick winter scarf, I was shivering like a bally blamange.
By the time we reached Liz's family, I was ready to go into some kind of thermo shock, and could hardly walk my legs were so cold. The couple came out when we stopped, as Liz was on the phone with them to find the way, and they stated flatly that the dogs should stay in the car. Then we had another shock. Liz's sister in law had a lovely chicken dinner ready for us, and I felt myself slowly defrosting, and was in a state of bliss, thinking of a lovely warm bath and a soft bed, when an unexpected bomb was thrown our way. We were not invited to sleep with them, although they had a two bedroomed flat. Poor Liz looked at her brother with her big brown eyes wide open in shock, but he just looked back affably, and so did his wife.
So then we had to go out in the cold night and try and find accommodation, and we must have looked very bedraggled, and in bad shock when we sat down in a small pub to try and work out a plan of action. We decided to call on the barman for help, and he gave us a tourist guide, and said that most of the accommodation in the town was carried in that. We were lucky, as the third place we phoned, a small bungalo with one bedroom but a bed in the sittingroom, had an opening for two nights, and we jumped at the opportunity.
It was the most adorable little cottage, and while Liz was trying to calm poor Benny, who had to stay in the car with Stouty while we were with her family,  down, I made for the bathroom, and I thanked the Lord for small mercies, as there was a bath as well as a shower.
After Liz had her bath, we sat down with a glass of red each, and pondered the question as to why we were not invited, as we rightly assumed, and expected, to sleep with her family. I actually knew why, as the house was clinically clean, with white carpets, and very little clutter, and the idea of letting the bedraggled looking dogs into that space was just too repulsive to the two, and I did not quite blame them, as the dogs indeed looked bad, all damp, and smelly.
We drove around for two days, looking at the beautiful scenery, but Liz showed no wish to go back and see her family, and when we left she just gave them a phone call to say goodbye. I think she was hurt badly, but why people sometimes just can't see that their animals are better off at home, I just can not understand. As I said before, Annette, an old friend of Liz, had so far every year offered to look after the two dogs, but Liz just declined the offer point blank.

Liz's brother lived in Thurso right up on the most Northern part of Scotland, and as it was also close to John'Groats, and me being always in the market for new and wonderful places to see, we decided to take a trip up there and visit with her family. We took the road that led through the mountains, and drove passed Lochalsh, then on to Loch Carron, where we had a cuppa and enjoyed the view. Then on to Torridon. It was breathtaking scenery, and when we got to the Apple Cross mountains, I could only stare in amazement it was so majestic.
It was raining cats and dogs, but we decided to pull off high up on the mountains for a wee and our lunch, a bitty late, but not to worry, we thought. There was not a good hide-out behind the clump of scraggy trees behind which we could empty our bladders, but as we haven't seen another car for more that half an hour we thought it safe.
Liz went first, and I couldn't believe it, after having seen no cars for the last half an hour, when a huge freight truck pulled off into the picnic spot also. Liz was caught nicely with her pants down, and the men in the truck whistled madly, and made a lot of lurid remarks, and poor old Liz was so ruffled that she couldn't get her pants back up. Luckily she had a long raincoat on, and not much was seen by her audience.
Although my bladder was at bursting point, we stayed and had our coffee and food, and I prayed for the truck to leave, as there was not many spots on that dangerous road to pull off. I thought they would never leave, but after both had disappeared into the bushes for a while, and after another about fifteen minutes, they went away, tooting like mad and flikkering their lights at us. I suppose that driving that huge trucks for hours on end must be tedious, and something small like what just happened might give them a good laugh, and maybe a lifting of spirits.
I decided that no ways was I going to expose myself behind that excuse for a clump of trees, as another truck might just also want to pull off the road for a bladder cleansing, and thought the best place was next to the car, with the door open for in case! I sat down with a feeling of pure joy, for at last I was going to get relieve, but the next moment my right-side bum was burning like it was on bally fire, and I danced around like someone with very bad rickets, and I was crying like a baby. I couldn't understand what happened, and the thought of a poisonous snake, or a spider, or some other crawling thing sent shivers through down my spine.
Poor Liz, still smarting from her own disaster was dancing around me, and when I got some of my wits back, I looked under the car to see who or what bit me. All I could see was a plant, and when I touched it by accident, and my hand underwent the same sensation as my bum, I knew that it was no creepy crawly that got me, but a bally lonely roadside nettle.I carefully picked it for my scrapbook!

We found another place to stay for one night, and drove around Skye remembering our previous holiday that we so enjoyed, but I wanted to see new places, so we decided to leave Skye and go to to the mainland, and find a nice place for a day or two, then onwards again.
It was bitterly cold, as the rain just did not let up, and after finding a place for the night in the small hotel in Portree, we sat in a cosy little bar with a big fire, too lazy to move, until the pub closed.

Sitting there without any plans, we looked up places on the map, and we both liked the idea of going to a small seaside village called, well I have now forgot the name. But we found a cottage with sheep grazing on the lawn, and it was absolutely beautiful, for me because there was such a lot to do, and when I have tHings to do, Liz can sleep all day if she so desired!
The rain had mercifully stopped for a while, and the first morning I was up and out at daybreak, with my flask and a sarmy. I walked for miles along the beach, then had my breakfast and a cuppa, and was daydreaming deliciously, when a shadow suddenly fell over me. Goodness me, it was the most charming and handsome man of about my own age, and we started talking, and as he had a zany sense of humour, we laughed and laughed, and before I knew it, it was time for me to go back.
Liz was up, but still in the first stage of her waking-up ritual, and I told her about my lovely encounter, and I had a big bally fright when her head suddenly jerked up, and looking at me with her big brown eyes spitting hatred and disgust, she hissed: 'You are a real flippin flirt, always picking up men, and I hope you enjoyed your flippin roll in the sand!' I was to say the least extremely shocked, as yes, like every normal human being I do love to flirt a bit, but what she was implying was that I was a real easy customer.
She then took one giant pull on her cigarette, her hands shaking like she had fallen in a bucket of ice, and then she slumped over the table again, and I walked out, and took the road back to the beach.
When I eventually went back, Liz was all dressed and like someone with a guilty consience, she was gushing goodwill and love all over me, but I was still too cross too relent. I knew I had to just forget about my indignation, as if I didn't, we might just as well return home, and my flight back to South Africa was only in ten days's time, so I acted affably, as if nothing had happened. That threw the poor Lizzy into a state of nervous uncertainty, and I thought to myself: Suffer, woman, suffer a bitty!
Our cottage was really nice, and as usual Liz had to watch the fire while I did the cooking, and afterwards I just made myself at home right in front of the fire, the dogs at my side.

We drove to Harris, and found it a very lonely and deserted looking island, maybe because it was raining and cold, but the moonlike landscape did not do much to lighten the overall feel. But after some driving around we came to a beautiful beach that stretched away to both sides, and the dogs were ecstatic to get out of the car and have a good run.
We took a long walk, and it was such a pleasant surprise when the sun suddenly peeped from behind the clouds, and changed the dreary grey sea, and the sand into an almost water paint like image - beautiful. But that did not last very long, and then the rain came down with a vengeance, as if it was cross for having let us see that the grey sea was actually green, and the sand was almost white and so clean, and we did a creditable sprint back to the car.
That night we decided to leave the islands on the following day, actually it was me that wanted to leave, as I felt that I was wasting my precious time sitting counting my fingers every day, until one or sometimes two, when Liz was ready to go.It would have been no trouble if there was anywhere but the wee road to the lighthouse to go, but if your feet stepped of a bit, chances are that you would land in a muddy hole.
So we packed in haste, and the next morning Liz was up in good time, as I think she was very tired of my moaning, as she just could not believe that when on holiday, anybody would want to get up before at least eleven.
We had to wait at Tairbeart for quite some time before the ferry arrived, and luckily it wasn't full, so we went back to Skye, where we were going to try and find a room for the night, and then decide what to do. We went to Portree, where the guy at the cafe we bought fish and chips to eat outside on the wharf, told us about a woman that has rooms with twin beds, so after filling our tummies to bursting point, we set off. The woman was full, with just one room with a double bed, but I was bally well not going to sleep in the same bed as the snoring Liz, and Benny with his killer breath.
The woman then phoned her sister, who apprently catered for guests now and then, and she had a room each for us, and I was smiling again. If somebody had not smelled Benny's breath before, he would never be able to even imagine how bad it really was, even after Liz gave it a jolly good brush.
The rooms were quite clean, but oh my heavens, the bathroom was a slimy mess. I wanted to take a bath, as there was no shower, but when I wanted to adjust the little mat that stopped one from slipping in the bath, I found it was pulling kind of slimy threads, and my fish and chips rushed up from my tummy, and I made a run for my room, where I sat panting for a while before my food went back. Liz thought me full of nonsense, and took her pajamas, and with a last reproving look at me, disappeared down the corridor to the bathroom that was shared with another room. It wasn't long before I heard Liz rushing past my door, and she was making real funny noises, so, being a bitty ugly sometimes, I went to have a look, and gloat a bit!
Now, I was not too sensitive, but Lizzy was one very precise, and very neat and clean in her house, person, and of the two of us, I think she had the weakest tummy, and the poor thing looked ghastly where she sat wretching in front of the window. I thought it best to keep my mouth shut.
I could not face that bathroom again, so I fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, and brushed my teeth by the window, spitting on the flowers. Shame.

The next day was again one of those frustrating mornings, as Liz just gave me a lot of lip when I tried to wake her up. I actually knew that she would not be able to rise and shine, but I am a very optimistic woman, and hoped for the best.
After we came back the previous day, Liz insisted on going out for the night, but Stornaway was the nearest place for having dinner, and as I was not registered to drive Liz's car, we decided to phone a taxi to come and pick us up, and bring us back. liz would just not compromise on her drinks, and by that I mean, a whiskey on sitting down, another one while we wait for our orders to be taken, the choosing of a meal taking ages, then a wine with her starter, a wine with her main meal, sometimes two, then one with the pud, and a whiskey to finish the meal. Then it was a small espresso laced with another whisky, and the meal was complete.Usually by this time Lizzy was nicely sozzled, and ready for pub crawling.
Back in out village i was always the designated driver when we went out to another village or town for dinner, as I love a red wine with my meal, but are not at all a heavy drinker.
Anyhow, by seven we were ready and raring to go, but outside it was pouring with a cold windblown rain, and the ground was soggy from the deluge, and the taxi driver did not at all looked happy when he eventually arrived, telling us that we would have to move the car so that he could turn around. It was hazardous to drive up the wee road leading to the house, as I had a look that first day, trying to walk across from us to the sea, and had fallen in a lot of boggy holes before I realised that the whole area was one soggy mess.That meant that the car's wheels had to absolutely stay on the track, or one was in for a spot of trouble.
What Lizzie intended or thought I will never fathom out, as all the time till now she had asked me to reverse the car out, too scared to do it herself, and also too scared to try and turn it around. But that was in broad daylight! Now, with already I think three reds behind her, she insisted to turn the car herself, and I thought that no ways am I going in that car with her, so I got into the taxi., from where the taxi man and self watched in wonder as the green car did the most fantastic things, first jumping about two feet before the enjin stopped, then it started again, and the car went forward and backwards, sending huge amounts of mud up in the sky, the enjin screeching dementedly! And then the exact thing that I feared for happened, and we just saw the two right sided wheels disappearing into a big boggy hole as Lizzie apparently lost control.
The taxi driver was in awe, and he asked me whether Liz could actually drive a car!
But we were in a spot of trouble, and so was the taxi, as it was too dangerous to try and reverse in the dark, the little road being hardly wide enough for the wheels, and the poor man couldn't get out if Liz's car was in the way, and that it surely was
So he suggested that he would help push the car out of the bog, but only after asking me whether I could drive, if I went behind the wheel. It was one mammoth task, as Liz was not much use, so the man walked over to the closest house to ask for help, and after a struggle, with Liz more of a liability than a help, the car was out, and the taxi driver parked it so as to leave enough space for him to turn around.
By this time, muddy and wet, and bally cross, I was ready for my bed, but Liz put up such a bally show, that we asked the taxi to wait, and we had a quick wash and change, and off we went!.
We got home not too late, the taxi man having informed us that he won't drive us after eleven, but that was long enough for my dear friend to really have a go with the whisky!

After our shouting session of the previous day, and me having been really upset at the precious time wasted every morning, poor old Lizzy was up next morning at about nine. I couldn't walk to the lighthouse as it was spitting with rain, and after having walked there every morning so far, there being nowhere else to go, I was a bitty tired of the walk.
Watching Liz get up that time of day, face all drawn and very white, body language just shouting out the misery and disgust at the situation was like watching a bally sad show, as she would sit slumped over the table, her whole body trembling, her eyes staring straight ahead of her, not seeing anything. I kept out of her way after trying to talk to her and tell her how happy I was that she was thinking about me also, and seeing my point! The look I got was to say the least withering, and she did not even have to say one word, and I felt so bad for a few moments that I took my coffee to the sitting room, from where I stood watching the rain splatter against the window.I was not going to capitulate, as then we would only get away by two, and I was pretty bored.
But after the second coffee, and third cigarette, this having been pulled on with so much gusto, and puckered lips, that I could only wonder at the long red coal that glinted in the dark kitchen, she actually went for her shower, and came out dressed. Usually after the shower she had another coffee and cigarette before getting dressed.
I was pleased when we got away by ten, and we decided to visit the Arnol Blackhouse, and a White house, can't remember where, and see what else we could find. But this day we had much more time, as it was still so early, and we would also have time to visit the Broch at Carloway.
The black House was very interesting, as there was no windows or chimneys, and the fire was made kind of in the middle. Then we went to a White hose, and that was more modern, well, not quite, but at least it had windows.
It was quite nice, as the clothes, like her stockings and stuff, of the old lady who lived in this one till her death, was still hanging on a line at the fire, complete as if it was drying.
The Broch was built in the stone age, maybe for some wealthy man, or community leader, for protection. It stands on a small hill overlooking Lewis, a very pretty view.
This Broch had its fair bit of tragedy, as in the 1500's, the clan Morrisson took shelter in it for one night, but their enemies, the macaulays found out, and smothered them with burning heather.
There were still people living on the first floor during the 1870's. Strange but so interesting.

Stornaway is one of those jewels in the middle of nowhere, with loads of interesting things to do, and we were happy to explore.
To me the statues of the Herring girls were awesome, and the story about them was told to us in a small cafe, where we found some old man who was prepared to speak English. I still do not believe that such a lot of people couldn't understand us, and have a faint suspicion that they did not like to speak their suppressor's language.
According to this interesting old man, there was very little or any work for girls on the island during the 1900's and early in the 20th century. As the women of this islands were used to hard work, they were employed as gutters, a dirty job which entailed long hours. But they were always happy and cheerful lot, and travelled to other places like Lerwick and Stronsey in the North, and a few other islands, and also to Isle of Man , and other fishing ports in England and Ireland.
By 1930 Germany, Russia and the Baltic States had built up strong fishing fleets, and soon the Herring catches had depleted considerably, leaving the girls without work.
We then went to the Harris tweed factory, and it was strange to me that Harris tweed was spun on Lewis, and not on the adjoining Harris. Tweed had been spun by the islanders in their homes for protection against the cold at first, but later it became a barter product to barter for other commodities from the other islands and also the mainland.
The cloth was spun from virgin wool, and dyed with vegetable dyes on the islands'
The original name was Twill, because the fabric was spun with patterns, but an English merchant confused the spelling, and thought that it was called Tweed, because of the river Tweed that runs through the Scottish borders, and advertised it as such, and the name stuck.
I bought three meters of beautiful tweed, in a greenish greyish sort of colour, and would have loved some more, but I had to watch the weight of my luggage.
Then we went for a late lunch in a small pub, where we were told that no pub on the islands were open on Sundays, but the man told us with a lecherous wink that if needed, there were ways to get one's hands on some of the softer stuff.

I sat high above the angry sea, watching the waves crash viciously against the rocks, spitting out black seaweed in big clumps before racing back, getting ready for the next advance. It was beautiful, although quite awe inspiring, and it brought on a kind of anxiety, making me feel a bitty restless. But after my breakfast and a lovely cuppa, I lay back against a rock, looking up at the sky that was sunny at last, and I was quite at one with the world. Walking back, I tried to get closer to the sea, but soon found that leaving the road was quite hazardous, as the whole area was boggy, and the holes was quite deep. After falling into quite a few, I gave up trying, and it was with a bit of heaviness in my heart that I approached the house.
By now the clouds had covered the sky again, and the house that we were renting looked very lonely and sad, with the bog grass swaying lightly in the wind, and I wondered how on earth I am going to while away the mornings waiting for Lizzy to wake up, and get ready to go somewhere. There was nothing to see but windblown bogs and a few sad looking houses.
Liz was just awake when I got back, sitting slumped over the kitchen table taking long pulls from her cigarette, now and then taking a sip of her coffee. It was no use trying to speed her up, as she just got stressed as she called it, and once stressed, she took even longer to perk up. At long last she went for a shower, then of course her second cuppa and another cigarette, after which she got dressed, and did her hair and face. All this took ages, and I was rearing at the bit, as the day was by now halfway gone.
On our previous holidays together I did not mind her sleeping late, as there was always lots to do and see, where I could walk to, but this time it was walking on the road to the lighthouse and back.
Within three days I was bored out of my mind, and I sat drawing the little barn outside, waiting for signs of life from inside the house. By the time I heard her moving around, I was thoroughly fed up, and told her so, and suggested that as it was really boring for me not to be able to go anywhere but to the lighthouse, I thought that she could try and get up earlier. She exploded, yelling at me that she was on holiday, and when on holiday a person did nor want to be harassed, and I yelled back that I was also a person, and also on holiday.

We were silent in the car as we took to the road going to Stornaway, where we would visit all the interesting places,

It was about a two hour trip to get to Lewis, where we disembarked at Tairbeart, and then had to drive up the A859 to Stornaway, and there try and find our way to Catriona's mother's house that was somewhere close to port Nis, on the A857. Trying to get directions from the islanders was almost impossible, as they all speak Gaelic, but after some searching we found somebody that understood us, and we were given directions as how to get to the A857.
We eventually found the house, and by this time poor Liz was a wreck, as it was way past her five o'clock tipple, and from experience I knew that she became quite agressive if her needs were not met. It was almost dark by this time, as it was still raining, and after some asking around at the other houses, we were shown a small wee path leading up to a very lonely looking house. The man who showed us the path then told us to drive very carefully, and not leave the path, as it was very boggy, and there was some quite deep holes.
I asked liz whether I should take the car up the path, as she was by now a shivering wreck, both from tiredness and the lack of her red voggies (fluid), and seeing that we were off the public road, I couldn't see any harm done.
I did suggest many times that I get registered to drive her car, but Liz is one very strange mixture of privacy and righteousness, and would not let anybody drive her car, except when there was no other way but to reverse, something she had never mastered, then I was asked to take the car out. She stood looking at me for some time, I suppose fighting with her inner self and pride, and when I said it was because she was so tired, she reluctantly got out from behind the steering wheel.
The house was very cosy and nicely furnished, with a heap of chopped wood lying ready to be used in the hearth. After we did the offloading, I suggested we make a fire first, as it was bitterly cold and damp, but Liz was feverishly scratching around her bags, found her bottle of red, and then poured herself one stiff glassfull.
After a few gulps, my friend's energy and sanity came back, and she became her own affable self, and we started looking for something to cook for our dinner.
I slept like a baby, and woke up early to the sun shining through my window! The previous few days was miserable to say the least, and I thought we would never have any sun while on the islands. So after a coffee, I packed some sarmies, and filled my flask, and knowing that Lizzy would not stir till about eleven after the previous day and a full bottle of red, I started on the longish walk to the lighthouse that I could see from my window.

The time flew by, and thinking back to the time wasted at the other hotel, where I was so unhappy, I thanked my stars for having this wonderful job, where everybody was so happy and the work was done in such good humour.
Then it was time for our holiday in the outer Hebrides, and I looked forward to that, as I have enjoyed the other islands so much. We started off quite early, of course not without Lizzy making life quite impossible, but after all this years trying to get her out of bed and ready in good time had taught me patience like nothing else ever had!
But in good time we were off, and we had to really move it, as we were booked on the four o'clock ferry to Lewis. I was as usual fitted out like an Eskimo, as it was quite cold, and wet, and with Benny and his car sickness, all the windows had to be open. Bally nuisance, and I have tried hard in the past to make Liz leave the dogs with her friend Annette, who was very capable, but Liz believed that her dogs also needed a holiday.
Of course we only made it to Tyndrum, which was not very far, before Liz decided that the dogs needed a pee, and we a breakfast. We had the flask with coffee in the car, but I had only packed us a lunch, as I can go without breakfast, and thought to stop and eat at about half eleven, twelve, but Liz was adamant, she wanted a rest.
Benny was quite quiet, as we had force fed some pulped fresh ginger to him before leaving, and it really helped. However, as soon as we thought we could close the windows and defrost a bit, he started getting all funny again, so I just pulled my thick scarf over my head, and peered from this at the wet world going by.
We had to either take the ferry at Eihlean Dohnan, or pay toll and use the bridge to get from the mainland to Skye

 and we decided that driving across on the bridge would be much faster.
As it was getting late, and we had to get to Skye, where the ferry left from Uig, the place where we had before stayed for one night, and then thought out a clever plan to leave without losing our money, I prompted Liz to put her foot down, or we would be sleeping over in Uig again.
We saw the ferry from the road high above the harbour, and it was already fully loaded  with the passengers, and only a few cars to get aboard, and my heart missed a few beats, as I did not want to sleep over, and besides, the ferries had to be booked beforehand during this time, as there were still loads of tourists.So I asked Liz to move it, and for once she did, and we screeched to a halt on the boarding plate, and the man standing inside waved at us to get away. We screamed like two banshees, as we did not want to be left, and the man took pity on us, and he waved us into the dark stomach of the huge ferry.

Every year when the swallows in the South start getting ready to fly to the North to breed, I start also to get ready to go North, and we usually get there pretty much at the same time. Of course I go for a different reason than they do, but how and so ever, when I arrive, they kind of are just back, and fly around in huge flocks looking for their homes from the previous years, and the new couples look for a nice place to start their families.
This year I was very lucky, as a couple had built their nest at the side of Angie's house, between the gutters and the roof, and from my window I had a fabulous view on the goings on in that nest. I saw them sit for hours, patient and still, until the chicks hatched, and it was one of my favourite passtimes to watch mum and dad feed their kids.The gluttonous wee birds took a lot of feeding to satisfy their always hungry tums,and I felt quite sorry for the young parents. But the chicks grew very fast, and they were ready to fly long before the flight South. I watched them practice their little wings by balancing on the side of the nest and flutter said wings furiously. It was so beautiful to watch, and I was very sad when one day I saw them leave the nest for short flights, and then they just never came back.
But it was still early in the summer, and this inexperienced couple decided to have another go, and I could not believe it when I noticed them sitting on the nest again. Two chicks had managed to hatch in the end, but I feared for them, as it was now middle September, and they were too young to start flying, and the flock departed around the end of the month. The one chick was strong, and I watched him balancing on the lip of the nest, exercising his little wings like mad but the other one took longer before he started, and I had doubts about him being ready for the departure South. the strong one was already taking practice flights before the other one started practicing his wings, and  I wanted to cry, as I knew that he was going to stay behind.
Then something happened that left me speechless, and much puzzled. I was dressing for work one morning, when suddenly there was hundreds of swallows flying around, dipping and rising, and chattering like mad.  I looked in awe as the young chicks stuck their heads out of the nest, and  felt my heart give a thump when the strongest one flew out and joined his parents and the rest of the swallows who were still circling around Angie's house.The other wee thing climbed onto the lip of the nest, but as he had not got so far as to fly, he just hung there for dear life, while the flock circled, and dipped, willing the small bird to leave the nest. All in vain, but they didn't give up.
Then the strangest thing happened. From nowhere there suddenly appeared a Blue-tit, a small indigenous bird, and he flew straight at the small swallow, and knocked him off the nest. He then flew away. I was stunned, as I couldn't believe that the Blue-tit did this for the joy of it, so I had to believe that he did it to get the little swallow flying with the rest! Very, very, strange.
The small bird however fell into the gutter, and I couldn't see him anymore. I then had to rush to the hotel as I was doing breakfast, while the Swallows were still trying to make the little one come with them. When I got back that night the flock was gone, and as I couldn't see into the gutter, I wondered whether the little one was still alive or not. I felt very sad, as I also had serious doubts about the stronger one keeping up with his parents and the rest!

It was now September, and as I worked only till the end of it, then go on a holiday before going home, Liz and self sat pouring over the computer to try and decide where to go. I wanted to go to the Outer Hebrides, and when one of the women in the village, Catriona, told us that we could rent her mother's cottage at Lewis for a very nice and easy sum, our minds were quickly made up, and we started getting into the mood.
It was still beautifully warm, and on my next day off, with the sun pouring down deliciously, I packed the wee Panda, tent and all, and took to the road.
I love to just drive around and when I saw a nice place where I could chill out, I simply stop and put up my tent. There are just about thousands of magic places in the highlands, and even perthshire has some wonderful spots. I was feeling real sad to think that I had to leave my mountains, glens and rivers where I roam so free and without fear, and go back home where I lived behind barred doors and windows, and even have to lock my doors when I went down to the toilet.
But today the little Panda had a mind of its own, as without really thinking, I ended up in glen Lyon, which was of all my spots, the most favoured one. It is quite a climb down to the river, where I would pitch my tent before having a swim in Christina's pond. After I had a long and delightful swim, I lay in the sun reading, thinking, and then sleeping.
When I woke up it was late afternoon, so I lit my little throw-away barbeque thingy, and the smell of my minted chops was just overwhelmingly appetizing,and my poor tummy, not fed at breakfast time, was growling like an angry lion! But before long my meal was ready, complete with baked potatoes that I had cooked the night before, cut up, and then smothered in butter, and baked in tinfoil on my fire! OOOH, so delicious!
When the sun started going down, the bally midges rose upwards, but I was ready for them with my Tabbard, and just about covered self and tent in the stuff. Tabbard is any midge's moses, and after that hellish night when Liz and I had to run for our lives in the middle of the night, falling in deep muddy holes and slithering downwards two steps for every three we took up the mountain, I was not taking any chances!
I read for a long time, then fell asleep like a baby, and slept like one, and was feeling like the queen of the world when I woke up with a nosy sheep peeping at me through the hole when I opened the flap.
Nearly bally fainted, as a nosy sheep first thing on waking up is not a pretty sight!
The rest of the day was spent swimming, reading, and just contemplating life, and when the sun started to make ready to depart, I sadly packed up and struggled up the mountain to where my Faithful wee Panda was waiting!

As Jim was off only Saturday afternoons and his only full day at home was Sunday, I think he took a weekly bath on that holy day, and oh boy, he really and truly made a big do of it, at least that is what it looked like when I came home after work and wanted a shower or a bath.
Coming in the front door the smell of umpteen different lotions and potions met you like a wall, and that is enough to trigger my always slumbering and ready to be woken hayfever glands, and within a minute I would be oozing tears and more, and the sneezing would start. I always kept hayfever tablets, as I am really weak in that department, and after a nice strong coffee, watching some television to try and build up courage to enter the bathroom, I would start gathering my stuff for operation facing the mess.
The first time I saw the bathroom after Jim had his scrub-up, I nearly fainted, and it took ages before I could gather enough strength to go back, after having left it very abruptly.
The whole floor was covered in towels, bottles and jars were all over the place, and the bath was filled to the brim with black, oily water. To crown this, all the open jars and bottles emmited their own fragrance, but what was the grossest of all was the dirty clothes that were strewn over the floor, and which I had to pick up before I could put a foot into the room.
The clothes were luckily not too filthy, as I knew that he had a wash just after coming home from the Benn Shaen at night, before he had his dinner, and as there were always underclothes on the floor, with Irene ranting and raving about the lazy f....r, I suppose that he put on clean underclothes regularly. But a full bath was done only on Sundays.
Anyhow, that first time I stood looking at the dirty water, not knowing how to get the plug out to drain the water so that I could clean the bath, I felt quite ill, but knowing that it had to be done, I went to the kitchen and brought back two huge plastic bags which I pulled over my arm, and that worked perfectly. I kept the bags over my hands to clean off the thick black ring that was left around the bath using every cleaning agent I could find in the kitchen.
But it is wonderful how adaptable one can be, and after the shock of seeing the mess that first Sunday, I bought all kinds of cleaners that was available, and cleaned the bath without any more ado.It was only that on a Sunday, after the busy week-ends, I was usually pooped, and not really up to cleaning a bathroom before I could relax in the bath.
But my time in the wilds made up doubly for every small inconvenience! The people dacing are Irene and Jim!

After Irma and the kids left I was sad for a few days, but as the time for my own leaving was also drawing nearer, I perked up fast, as in my line of work there wasn't a lot of space for lamenting.
Irene and Jim with whom I was lodging, were the strangest couple ever. She just about showered me with affection, both at work and at home, but Jim never said one wee word to me, except good morning and good night.
When I told Irene one day at work that I don't think Jim liked me lodging there, she penned me down with one intense stare, and told me shortly that Jim had no f......g say in the matter, as it was her f....g house! Like a lot of the Scots in Strathyre, she had a nasty mouth, and a heart of gold, and the combination of the two had me in awe when I just came there
Of the two Jim was the strangest. As time went on, and I listened to their conversations down below, the run of things in that house became clearer by the day.
Jim is a builder, and he and Keith had a bussiness together, and they worked very, very hard. Building in Scotland in the small villages were not at all like in South Africa, where there was usually an army of workers on a building site, some working, some leaning against anything leanable, but never did I see all of them working at the same time. In Scotland there was the minimum people on a job, and in this partnership everything was done by only the two of them, and I could imagine why Jim was so tired at night, and after umpteen rum and cokes at the Ben Shaenn, and a bottle of white with his food, he fell asleep just after dinner.
There was a young guy David, who like a lot of Scots whose parents had left Scotland long ago, decided to come back and reclaim their land, and then had to build a new career. He then had started also to build. This young giant worked all on his own, building a whole house from scratch, just getting somebody to help with the roof, as he couldn't do it alone. Quite amazing.
Jim and Irene had been together for close to twenty years, but never married, and as Irene told me one day, she loved Jim, but was not going to marry the stingy f....r! I soon found out why she called him stingy, and it was actually quite hilarious, and I started to understand why she regularly told him that she wasn't going to feed him anymore.
Sundays was Jim's only full day off, and therefore his only day to lie in. By nine he was up though, and then it was time for the weekly bath, of which I will talk later. Then the car would be pulled out, and he would lovingly walk around it with a cloth to get rid of any spots, before, with a smile of utter bliss, he would drive out onto the road, and off to Callender for the big shopping! Irene paid everything else, but Jim had to buy the groceries and meat!
After a couple of hours the car could be seen coming into the village at a snails pace, and after some time spent on getting the vehicle parked properly, Jim would very carefully get out, smile vaguely at the world, and then retrieve his groceries.This was usually one supermarket bag, filled with a can of cheap coffee, sugar, one or two packets of meat, and a few odds and ends, and a bottle of rum to while away the time till lunch, when he would saunter up to the Ben Shaen for a bacon butty (sandwich) and some more drinks.
Every Sunday night was the same, the only time that I ever heard hard words fell in that house, and Irene would call me to see Jim's contribution to the household, and I wondered about some people that could live with all kinds of abuses, as this was to me nothing but abuse of Irene's kindheartedness. He knew very well that Irene would never let him go to bed with an empty stomach, as she would buy food from the village shop, costing her a pretty penny, as it was expensive. But apart from this hiccup, they were still the most contented couple I have ever met.
The house is that of the young man David, who came back to claim his land. He found only part of the front stone walls standing, and he did a wonderful job of building it up and keeping the character, by not trying to straighten every wall. The back of the house though is very modern, although it can't be seen from the road.