On Holiday by Mistake

I meant to post something in the brief few days between my parents' departure and my leaving on holiday, but I ran out of time. Yes, you read that correctly, I was on holiday. Again. Now, lest you start rolling your eyes and muttering under your breath about how often I seem to disappear off on these little jollies, let me remind you that my allotted vacation days add up to something like seven weeks in total, and to use all that up every year is hard work. Takes a dedicated, methodical approach.

We decided that it was our civic duty (not to mention environmentally sounder) to opt to spend at least one holiday in Scotland. Support the home team and all that. We've done this in the past, and- at the risk of sounding negative- invariably regretted it somewhat. Let's be frank- taking a trip in this country tends to mean indifferent food, rip-off prices, poor service and crap weather.

And I regret to report that this time was no exception; all of those elements were present.

I suppose, given the spectacular countryside much of the aforementioned craptitude could be overlooked, had the weather not been so appalling. We left home in relatively balmy temperatures. Then, as we drove further north, (our destination being island off the west coast rhyming with, er, "rye"), the clouds rolled in. The sky turned dark. The thermometer plummeted to 55 degrees.

To our teeth-gritting annoyance, whenever we turned on the radio or the TV, the announcers were gibbering on endlessly about the heatwave in London. Temperatures in the high 80s! Pensioners collapsing from heat exhaustion! Photos of carefree families frolicking happily on the sun dazzled beaches!

Meanwhile, we reached, er, the place that rhymes with "lye", and found ourselves in a slightly damp rented cottage. Cue endless hot baths to try to stay warm, as a roaring wind blew the rain at 90 degree angles across the front of the house. There was a fine view of the sea from the living room window- or at least there would have been, had the hills not been completely shrouded in low hanging mist.

"But it's Julllllly," I moaned to E. as I scrabbled in my suitcase for a wooly hat and long underwear. (I packed on prior knowledge of what to expect). "We should be strolling hand in hand down some sunny promenade, sipping cooling fizzy drinks in a sidewalk cafe, basking like sandsharks in the warm waters."

E., who had optimistically packed the bikes, his fishing rod and his hiking boots, stared grimly out the window.

"We've gone on holiday by mistake," he muttered a la Withnail & I.

We stayed in and watched England get knocked out of the World Cup; later that evening, as a change of scene for the Brazil game, we decided to make our way down to the local pub. It was set back from the road in a pleasing little dell surrounded by trees, lights glimmering appealingly in the rain-sloshed gloom. But as soon as we walked in, we realised our mistake. The place was filled entirely with sullen English people, and the atmosphere varied between mildly unwelcoming to slightly hostile, overladen with a veneer of funeral gloom. Oops.

Unfortunately, this was to be a recurring theme throughout the rest of our stay on the island. For example, we tried to book a table for our anniversary dinner at a nice-ish recommended restaurant. "If you can find a table, you can order," grunted the owner, waving his hand dismissively in the direction of the bar, slapping the change for our drinks into E.'s hand in an unfriendly fashion.

I tried to order the fish special- nope, off the menu. Turns out this was to be the first of many things unavailable at various venues throughout the week. No giant chocolate chip cookies as advertised. No, there's no ice cream for a milkshake. No, sorry, we're out of the Moroccan lamb stew. No, the library is closed all day on Tuesdays, you can't book a computer to check your email. No, actually, we haven't had internet access available for two years- we really must get around to updating that leaflet sometime. No, we don't have the recommended walking guide book in stock, maybe check in the town 25 miles down the road- they might have it. Or not.

Complaints aside, the island did nevertheless work its slow magic on us over the next few days. It stopped raining, and the sun came out. We played a round of comedy golf on a funny little course. We walked to a white beach, waters as clear as the Mediterrean. E. caught dozens of mackerel skimming just off the surface in silvery schools. We looked through the binoculars at seals frolicking offshore. We hiked up an eery hill, the cloud suddenly rolling in over the sea, whispering the names of the strange stone formations; the Needle, the Prison, the Table. We walked an isolated peninsula, through the crumbled remains of a village lost to the Clearances, inexplicable patches of daffodils growing around the old stone walls.

Then the weather turned crap again and we came home.

So, now you know where I have been. I should perhaps mention, one slightly odd thing happened. You see, we spent a lot of time in the car, both driving for hours to get to the island and then once there driving around to the various parts (which are otherwise quite inaccessible, not being terriblly well served by public transport). And for the first time ever in the whole of the history of my relationship with E., I got a strange sensation that something, or more specifically, someone was missing. The backseat looked so empty. I found myself imagining, repeatedly, a little person in the back- a baby, a child.

I say it's odd, because in the whole of the saga of trying to have a family, I've never ever really pictured it so vividly before. Never really pictured it all, actually. And now that I have done so, I'm suddenly finding it hard to stop.

Consider me worried and intrigued in equal measures.

Comments

[Lut C.]

That settles it. I'm not visiting Scotland any time soon. ;-)

[Donna]

Your images of Scotland haven't persuaded me to take it off my Places to Visit list; however, I must remember to bring foul weather gear irrespective of the month. As Kate Bush says, the wiley, windy moors is no place for sun-worshippers. I'm glad you were eventually able to get outside and visit the wonders available to you. Many revelations have come to me while traveling in cars...I hope your vision is a premonition.

[Alchemilla]

I have been to that blasted island five times now and never seen the sun either. And the coldest I've ever been was on rhymes with Paris in August. Why are we doing the rhyming thing?

By hook or by crook you will fill that backseat sweetheart.

[thalia]

Been to that island once, and had pretty good weather and one good meal, although we were camping so most food that wasn't just biscuits out of the packet tasted pretty good...

Glad you had a break. Colour me intrigued, too.

[Ellen K.]

Hmm. I won't take that island off my list of places to visit, but maybe move it down a few places on said list.

I've had the "phantom" feeling about the backseat, too. (And also, once, about the shopping cart at the grocery store.) It's sometimes unsettling and leaves me feeling personally empty; other times, I feel cheerful and more certain that the backseat WILL have a little passenger at some point.

[mm]

Sounds eerily like the horrific yet not totally appalling trip Mr Limbo and I took to Prince Edward Island (Canada) a few years ago...

Glad you're back.

[Pamplemousse]

The trick is to expect the foulest weather possible then you will not be disappointed! I think we may have overlapped though. I prefer across the sea on the mainland and I could recommend some lovely non-damp accommodation too.

[-Blue]

How horrible is it that I found your description terribly appealing? OK, sans disgruntled Englishmen. Is it because I've yet to visit Scotland? Is it becaue I spent so much time in Essex in winter and it mimicked what you describe shockingly?

Perhpas I'm just 'pining for my ancestral home' in that stupid American way. *snort*

The 'phantom child' thing gave me goosebumps! I have a good feeling about that ...

-Blue

[Jen]

I was in Edinburgh in April and it was so warm that I was in shirtsleeves! And then the clouds would roll in and I'd be freezing. It's my sort of place. I'd much rather be cold than hot and had a GRAND time visiting. But it is definitely not someone's idea of a warm sunny destination. Hopefully I'll be back in Feb/Mar of 07.

[Amyesq]

I agree with Jen. Since where I live is generally lovely and sunny I actually LIKE to be chilly on holiday! Can't wait to get soaked to the gills hiking near the west coast and glancing across the water at an island rhyming with "rye". Heh. By the way, the new intern at my cousin's work, um, OWNS that island - well his family does. (Who knew it was privately owned??) Got a huge laugh out of hearing that. Perhaps I will have my cousin lodge a complaint with him for you.

[Amyesq]

Oh yeah, and the most important thing, duh, is how interesting about the empty back seat.... I bet it would be the perfect place for a little one.

[Katty]

I had one of my worst ever meals in Skye. The hotel looked lovely on the outside but on the inside the restaurant was filled with a coachload of very old pensioners eating those tiny slivers of threaded roast beef that used to be served up for school dinners in primary schools accross London (and perhaps still are for all I know). However, on the plus side, a very attractive woman with slightly cross eyes, and her handsome hairdresser/scuba diving lover (clearly married, clearly having an affair, neither penisioners) plied me with vodka in an effort (I came to find out after the woman tried to pull off my woolen tights) to get me into a three-some. All I remember is staggering out of the room saying no no before throwing up in th sink. I think they thought they had morally outraged me: in truth I didn't want my tights to come down, and have my bottom exposed in the harsh glare of the hotels unbecoming light.
Anway. This goes to show... goes to show... what? Not sure exactly. But I'll give you one tip: on the far corner of the island there is a beach covered in coral, dotted with rabbits and with little tiny seals bobbing in the water offshore like kittens... Quite one of the loveliest places on earth.

[patricia]

I loved Withnail, and that is one of the best lines ever!

I must say, I had a wonderful time on, er, "Spry", but my expectations were probably lower as it was only late April, and so we did get the scattered showers, but also got sun breaks and had some great hikes.

The island was awash with adorable lambs, and though I am not usual like this, I was a little horrified when my then boyfriend ordered fresh lamb for dinner. I had prawns.

[Juno888]

best island would take lot of memories....