Emma phoned to say that Ray would talk to us on Saturday afternoon, and would we meet him in the pub after we have done the rooms, to discuss what we wanted. Of course our pockets not too full, we were looking for the cheapest roadworthy, and smallest car that he could find us.
So Saturday we raced through our morning shift, and legged it to the pub, so excited we could burst! We did almost burst, but not from anything to the car, but the person sitting at the bar, and who came to us the moment we came in, and introduced himself as Ray, the car salesman.
I was speechless, and Anna mesmerized, as this man was dressed in jeans and a 'make me look strong' t-shirt, the kind without sleeves, and the holes for the sleeves so enormous that it showed half of his torso. That in it self would have been strange, but what had both of us in different states of amazement, was that his whole body was covered in tattoos, even behind his ears, making him look like a giant bally lizard. Anna was in ecstasy, and after he bought us a drink, and we sat down at a table, the tourists gaping at us unbelievingly, she started on the Anna thing, her mouth open in an enormously wide and toothy smile, her voice low and caressing, her eyes shining as bright as any star!
But Ray was intent on doing business, and as usual, I had to take all the responsibility on me, as Anna stated that if he registered the still to be found car it should be in my name. We told him that we had three hundred pounds at the most, and to our delight he said that it was no problem, as there was always small older cars that were brought in as a trade-in on a newer model. He then left for the fishing waters, leaving poor Anna staring into space, a smile of delight on her face, then she suddenly looked at me and asked: 'Do you think his WHOLE body had been tatooed?', and on ignorant me asking what she meant, she got quite disgusted with my slowness, and said what she meant was, did I think he had tatoos on his dingamalary too! Now I was disgusted, but after a while I started giggling, as the idea was disgustingly hilarious!
The week-end passed quickly, and we decided to go to Oban by bus, using the fast city to city one that actually stopped in Strathyre to pick up passengers. We were all excited, as people kept on telling us how beautiful it was there, and we wanted to try and take the ferry to the isle of Skye. The busdriver was a very nice and helpful man, who, on us asking him about things worth seeing in Oban, gave us a few brochures that he kept to give to tourists. He was free with his advice, and said that we would be too late for the afternoon ferry, but gave us the time-table that he also had stashed under his seat.
We had a good look at it, and realised that we would have to just go over with the late ferry, sleep somewhere, and come back first thing in the morning, to be in time for the bus back to Strathyre.
We found an affordable guesthouse, and had a lovely time, eating seafood at a small little cafe on the wharf.
Our driver back was a different man, so we did not give another thought to Iain, the courteous driver who took us to Oban. That is until, after coming back down from the mountain behind the hotel where I took my lunch and ate it by a small stream that cascades madly downhill to Balvaig river, Rosanne waited for me with a huge smile on her face. Apparently our busdriver had stopped his huge bus in front of the hotel to give us some more brochures, and, said Rosanne, she wanted to call Anna, but he wanted to see me, so she gave him the hotel's phone number to get in touch with me.