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!