UK over and out

Isle of Skye, 26 July

Well in the time it’s taken us to almost cover the length of the UK we’ve seen NZ beat the world at netball (and arguably cricket), and England get their Trump-equivalent. After the BoJo news I overhead a Scotsman telling his mate yesterday, he was going home to lie down in a darkened room … forever. We’ve been strangely oblivious to a lot of what’s going on in the world, but I did see the Herald reporting on a baby chihuahua that got abducted by a seagull last week.

The Cotswolds seem a long time ago now, but they were all we’d expected and we hiked ourselves silly along much of the 100 mile Cotswold Way in these gorgeous woods. (Rog blended in just fine. No need for a Gilly suit!) …

… and we discovered possibly the world’s most picturesque cocktails in a tiny little village called Painswick. We’re finding these little villages can hide all kinds of amazing experiences. A bit like truffles though, you really have to hunt them out, but they’re so worth it.

We were lucky to stumble across the Painswick Rococco Gardens and yet another amazing sculpture installation. We especially loved (and identified with) the mad hares.

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It was fun to reconnect with the Skinner rellies and had a great day out at the Cheltenham Cricket Festival.

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The Lakes District rained.. and rained.. and rained but strangely this added to the atmosphere and gave us a much-needed breather. We did find ourselves in Langdale Chase, an early 1800s manor on the shores of Lake Windermere, and we amused ourselves in the rain with a cheeky wee Downton Abbey-esque photoshoot. Eat your heart out Lord and Lady Grantham!

We’re having plenty of laughs and haven’t eaten this well on our travels ever, I think. We’ve really hit the jackpot in Scotland, yes Scotland. The last five nights have been just exquisite. In a tiny village called Lochcarron miles from anywhere, we stumbled across the local bistro and discovered the the kitchen was run by a Michelin chef having a bit of a change of pace. What he did to pigeon breast and Bass was just incredible. Think Soul Bar food, Hunterville pricing!

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The Isle of Skye was rugged and spectacular, with one-way roads and an abundance of seafood. The fisherman told Roger ‘any idiot could catch lobster around there at the moment’.

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We’ve driven some huge miles, too far some days, especially on the narrow winding little roads up in the Northwestern lochs. Roger, bless him puts up with my newly-adopted Scottish playlist and just keeps driving and driving.

A couple of other random ramblings…

Early on in the planning, we seriously considered doing this trip in a campervan. We came across this reminder of how life may have looked and have never been so grateful that we saw the light early on.

Scotland…. what a hard country. Definitely not a place for the fainthearted. But a great sense of Age Concern as it turns out.

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We’ve found it impossible to not be moved by the drama of the landscapes, the moody colours and the blood-curdling history. What a stoic lot my forebears were. And with plenty of blazing red manes, Maddy and Harriet’s turangawaewae is obvious and a comforting reminder of our clan back home. (Watch this space for an Irish update.)

Speaking of clan, I visited the salubrious Edinburgh birthplace of my granddad who came to NZ as a young man (yep that’s the ancestral manor with boards in the windows and Toi Tois out front). Family mantra has always been ‘worst house, best street’.

Meantime, my granny grew up in GlenCoe many miles away and clearly ‘married up’, looking at the real estate. In the early 60s, my dad named our family farm Glencoe, so visiting here was strangely stirring. If you get a chance, listen to the song, The Massacre of Glencoe and you’ll get a sense of why Granny’s family fled to NZ in the early ’20s!

Man, did we underestimate the whisky culture here in Scotland! Bordering on religious. First day in Edinburgh we asked a couple of young girls for directions to the nearest health shop and explained Roger had a cold. They looked at us dumbfounded and told us ‘there’s not much a wee dram won’t fix’.

The reverence, knowledge and sheer passion the Scots have for their whisky is quite romantic. A breakfast dram doesn’t seem to be out of the ordinary and you can even bathe in it apparently.

We’ve packed in plenty and are ready to farewell England and Scotland. Onwards to Ireland now to connect with Roger’s roots. We’re hoping for some good Irish craic and chaos!