I was up with the sparrows this morning, packing, getting rid of refuse, walking the dogs and preparing the van for the thirty mile run south to Ullapool. I was on top form I checked wheel nuts and engine oil and off we trundled. The run out was in total contrast to the run in. I only had to pull over once and then didn’t have to slow much as the young lass from the campsite blasted past with a cheery ‘TOOT TOOT’. In a flash she was gone. If she keeps driving like that she will be. It’s times like this that I feel old. I wish I still had the Westfield Seven or a big bike.
I hit the metropolis of Ullapool at the crack of eight and entered Tesco. It’s not my favourite shop but it’s the only shop before Inverness. I completed my messages…it means shopping…well, I hope I did.
My son, who spent his early years in the Scottish Borders, still sometimes refers to shopping as messages. He’s getting older now but not old enough to sing the theme to Postman Pat in Gaelic. I wish I could…I know the first line. Postich Pat, Postich Pat. It should have been Padraig Post. I thought Gaelic would be easy to learn but very few speak it. I’ve not given up but I might. If I find a hippy Scottish lass that can not only toss the caber but accommodate one..I might learn the language. There’s nothing better than flirting and pillow talk for lingo learning.
Loch Broom from Ullapool. I’ve never really liked Ullapool so I split toned this. I now can’t make up my mind. It is very useful, it’s generally friendly. It is a town and not croft re-development. I’m split and so is Loch Broom.
I made the mistake of getting a Telegraph in the shop. These bloody Tories. I was spitting feathers when I read that Lord Howell who is a government adviser on energy decreed that gas fracing… No. There is no ‘K’ in fracing it’s a tch as in frat’ch’ure…..Has no place in the Home Counties and that it should be carried out in the desolate North East. It is being carried out in the desolation of the North West. He is not only a mealy mouthed Tory Tosser he is also our useless Chancelors father-in-law. So much for Dithery Dave and his promise to weed out corruption and nepotism. Lord Howell is trying his very best with the little brain he was born with to wriggle out of what he decreed. Decree. I ask you? Even old big eared Charlie has learnt not to decree, or to decree once removed. They all want removing.
That’s better the feathers have gone. If it’s nice this evening I’ll do a stop frame movie of the Isle of Lewis docking. I think I sussed the practicalities last night…..time will tell. It’s very Compli’k’ated.
Oh! Beggar! More feathers…Is anyone else having trouble with becoming a Follower on Blogger? I am refusing to join Google+ but have noticed if a Blogger goes without posting for a while then I can’t follow but have to join a ‘Circle’ and to do that I have to join Google+. Imagine me Twittering all this Krap in two hundred and forty Karacters. Imagine resorting to FaKebook. I Kan’t I swapped ‘Cs’ for a ‘Ks’ for Lord Howell. Total bastard he is. Let them start Fracing the grouse moors and see how popular he is. The ruling classes are so inbred that like the Royals they couldn’t find their bums without a butler, lady in waiting or wing mirrors. Possibly all three.
I’m here tomorrow and then Friday I head off to Loch Ewe.
Have fun and enjoy the rest of your week. If you are a Tory and insensative then may it rain rivers of blue blood.