A wee dram

Speyside is the home of single malts. The Spey river winds its way through idyllic countryside to its mouth in the Moray Firth.

Over the last few days I'd been under a lot of pressure. I realised I couldn't continue to fight the rising tide of persuasion from Chris, to have a visit to the distilleries. Not that I minded the odd scotch, enjoyed in front of a roaring fire.
To be truthful, aye, it was none another than myself who was slowly emptying the wee duty free bottle of Glenlivet. But I wasn't too keen on seeing the workings of a distillery, now if he had suggested a castle visit or a visit to T K Maxx, that'd be different.

Chris had picked the first distillery to
visit. It was one run by Historic Scotland called Dallas Dhug.

The sat nav was configured and the route planned, we were on our way. It wasn't long before we arrived. The distillery was made up of what looked like several very large, white washed buildings. Chris had picked this one because it was free. We both had become members of historic Scotland which entitled members to free entry to various attractions.

We circumnavigated the buildings several times, following the signs, but couldn't find the entrance. Finally we approached the gardener who informed us 'Thursdays and Fridays it was closed'. Shouldn't it be Sundays and Mondays? They certainly do things differently over here.

Not to be deterred we headed off to our next stop, Cardhu. It was set on the side of the hill, surrounded by highland cows, all 4 of them!

It was open but not for distillery tours. To make matters worse the very 'scottish' shop assistant wanted us to share the one wee dram on offer to taste. Apparently her generosity was only exceeded by her good looks.
She slowly peeled off a minute postit note that had directions to the sister distillery that was open for tours. Directions were in size 7 font and I was the navigator.

Clutching the scrap of paper we continued down the road. Perhaps unfortunately we never found it but couldn't believe our luck when we stumbled across the Holy Grail of all distilleries - the Glenlivet Distillery.

Must have been my superior navigation skills.
A great tour and a very generous sample of scotch at the end. 12, 16 year old and a special malt to choose from. A hard decision but somebody had to make it.

Saint Anthony and the Standing Stones

The afternoon had been spent on Culloden Moor. This is hallowed ground for the Scots. Back in 1742 around 6000+ highland clans under the leadership of Bonnie Prince Charlie lost their battle against the English. It's a sombre place as you walk amongst the clan headstones, inscribed with the numbers that were lost.

Nearby are the Clava Cairns, standing stones from ancient times. This was a must to visit, one of the very reasons we came to Scotland.

We had read and thoroughly enjoyed the Diana Gabaldon series of books, in which one of the characters goes back in time to 1740. In the book a standing stone, within a circle of stones did the same job as Dr Who's tardis .

We approached the circle of stones with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation.

The stones were awesome, not as large as Stonehenge, but still very impressive. There were 3 groups, arranged in a circle with a stone cairn in the middle. We had a lot of fun getting up close and personal with the stones, but disappointingly no travelling back through time.

As we were about to leave I became aware I'd lost my glasses.

We retraced our steps, but with no luck.
The light was fading, the stones were outlined eerily in the gloom. And of course, to make matters worse the glasses were black rimmed.

I started uttering a few prayers to Saint Anthony. My mother used to swear by St Anthony, saying that he never let her down when it came to finding what she'd lost.
He had recently found for my dad, my late mum's rosary beads. The entire staff of the nursing home, my sister and I had searched for hours one night to no avail. But after the night spent in prayer to Saint Anthony, the cleaner had discovered them in the morning, tucked into the wall space for the sliding door.

So not surprisingly I have a lot of faith in St Anthony's ability to find lost things.

Eventually however, with the light fading and no glasses, we dejectedly made our war back to the car.

As we were leaving, a van pulled up in the car park and six dark shapes emerged. They wore long coats and were hooded. Were they here for some mystical celtic ceremony to be performed as the sun set. Or were they tourists rugged up for the evening chill.

I decided that most likely it was the latter and my glasses were much too important to let an opportunity go by. So summoning up my courage, I asked one of the group if they did happen to find some reading glasses would they leave them on the fence post.

I was taken aback by the answer. A voice with a strong American accent said "hav ya said a prayer to St Anthony ?"

Do Americans know about St Anthony as well!!!!

Well after another night spent in prayer to Saint Anthony, we returned in the morning to find guess what? ..........

Saint Anthony had done it again.

Maybe the Nessie searchers up at the loch should spend a bit of time in prayer.

The best made plans often go awry.

The car was packed. An emotional farewell had been said to DIGBY and Zoe. Though to be truthful the emotion was all on our side as DIGBY seemed to be particularly taken with the new housesitter. He had ignored us since Simon had arrived on the scene.

The satnav had been configured and we were on our way to the wild and rugged west coast of Scotland.

All week we'd been planning what to visit...... Skye, Iona, a climb up Ben Nevis, Glencoe - Rob Roy, scenic lochs, shopping at Fort William or dining at Scotland's best restaurant in Port Appin.

Sinking back into the 'comfort' of the plush, vinyl covered, Ford Fiesta's seats, I thought I'd check the emails to see where we were to pick up the key.

Looking at emails while driving, even if you are a passenger, isn't an easy task. It took awhile before my eyes fixed on a date - it couldn't be right. Not the 27th as the start date. Today was only the 20th.

I began to feel a small level of anxiety creeping into the pit of my stomach, like an ominous warning of some dreaded, disaster to come. We were heading in the wrong direction by at least a 100 miles. Don't panic. DON'T PANIC FRANCES. Stay calm.
I tried to remain calm. "Stop Chris ". "PULL OVER NOW!" I uttered in a voice which I thought was quite reasonable given the gravity of the situation.

Chris regarded me with a certain degree of scepticism, as if I was asking him to do the impossible - what's hard about pulling over on the A 9 as the Forth Bridge is looming up in front of you.

However Chris has been blessed with nerves of steel and was able to pullover without saying " what the f### do you want!!!!!

Someone had made a mistake, I'm not mentioning any names but it soon became very clear that we were not going to the west coast, instead we were about to enjoy the wonders of Inverness, the highlands and the Black Isle.

Some person, who'll forever remain nameless had mixed up the bookings.

Hey, who said we weren't adaptable.

So check out some of these photos - Our cottage on Moray Forth, Fort George, Carrbridge and more...

Goodbye to Edinbvrgh, DIGBY & ZOE

Today we leave this beautiful city, we've thoroughly enjoyed our stay here.

The castles, the tattoo, the shopping, the people, the rugby, the fabulous bars, but most of all we'll miss our time with DIGBY & ZOE.

I'll miss....

DIGBY barking at 6am when the newspaper is delivered.

DIGBY rousing me in the morning when he wants to be let out.

ZOE snuggling up for cuddles, whenever DIGBY wasn't in sight.

Taking the dogs for walks in Ravelston Woods, a beautiful forest walk.

Hiding from the BLACK Labrador - the only dog in the world that hates DIGBY.

Having coffee at Almond River mouth after walking the dogs along the Firth, chatting to other dog walkers.

Having a conversation with a dog who thought he could talk (we knew he could).

Stopping DIGBY from eating the mail, including the postcard I never got to read.

DIGBY joining us for dinner, he could put his head on the table while standing up.

The exuberant welcome we received from them both when ever we returned.

DIGBY hiding ZOE's ball, because she always beat him at catch.

DIGBY's lack of understanding of personal space.

Well perhaps to be truthful there'll only be some of these things that I'll miss.

Tug of War

Digby never quite mastered SIT

Zoe loved to beat Digby at any opportunity

Coffee Break

The Firth of forth

Our car outside where we stayed

Yet Another............Tantallon Castle

View from Tantallon Castle

Out the window, Ship Inn, Nth Berwick

The day started fine and sunny and we took the opportunity of heading out of town to a few historic attractions.

Actually Chris was feeling particularly generous and succumbed to the idea of another castle visit. I'm feeling a little nervous about payback.

We headed east and stopped at a beautiful little town called Haddington. St Mary's Church was listed in the historical guide as definitely worth visiting, because of the marble effigies in the church.

Our GPS lady was insistent about recalculating as Chris decided she didn't know the way.

Eventually we arrived at a beautiful old church. The setting was very romantic, moss covered gravestones, autumn tones on the trees and a stream winding its way past the kirk.

However after 3 trips around the church we weren't able to open any doors.
Inside we could hear music playing and peeping through the keyholes we could see people moving around.
We consulted the guidebook - October - only open on Sundays and of course it wasn't Sunday .
We were just about to leave when the door opened, it was the bell mechanic and he said yes I'm sure the florist will show you through.
There was a local wedding the next day and all the tradespeople were there to prepare the church for the grand event.

To cut a long story short we came away with a book, we were given about the restoration, and an invite to the wedding.

Lunch was at North Berwick in a cosy little pub.

The afternoon was spent at the castle
Built on another fantastic location, so it would be safe from all attackers. Life must have been pretty precarious back then.

The wearher's fantastic

Secluded beach for private sunbathing!

Nothing stops the Scots from Golf

Used to be inhabited

The castle on the edge of the cliff

Fish Pie & Parsnip Soup with chips

Beach gear for Scots

A long way down without the floors