Monday March 30th.
Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day – please!
I think today has to have been the rainiest day so far (if
such a word exists). It was stair-rodding for a while over the shelter of the
headland behind the caravan site and we decided that a voyage out would just
get us soaked unnecessarily. We stayed put and diligently applied ourselves to
our respective tasks, me sewing and Loll ploughing through her revision
timetable as though her life depended on it.
When I told her this she said, “Actually, it does, if you
think about it. My grades will mean the difference between doing a Masters and
having to find ‘real work’.” I thought this seemed an odd perspective to take.
When I did my Masters, I did it because I wanted to. I gave up a well-paid,
full-time job at the solicitors, for part-time versions of both activities.
That I love working at XXX & Y Solicitors is evinced by the fact I am still
part time there now, despite being an RA as well!
Laura talking about it as something to put off work was a
slightly worrying take on her future. We will have to discuss this at some time
in the future – definitely not before she sits her finals though!
Once again, by mid-arvo the clouds had whizzed away to
drench Glasgow and the other cities of the mainland, leaving us basking in the
damp afterglow of the rain and wind. We took ourselves round to Kildonan
(again) you can never get tired of watching seals basking and at play. We sat
in the car and listened to the bollox spouted by politicians about the upcoming
election (on BBC Radio 4’s PM Programme) we decided that putting the seals in
charge would probably be much better for the country. Some MPs are so fat and
bloated after lining their pockets at the tax-payers’ expense they could easily
be replaced by seals and no-one would even notice. The smell of fish would easily
be better than the smell of corruption that surrounds the bastard politicians.
After the 6 o’Clock News and David Tennant back on “Just a
Minute”, although not as spectacular as on his first appearance a few weeks ago
when on his first ever topic he did the whole minute, non-stop! I can’t
remember a debut like it on the show. We giggled our way across to the Kildonan
Hotel and treated ourselves to a cooking free night.
It may be a sign of my influence on the blonde stunner who
shares my life and bed, but she ordered the mussels! I was gobsmacked. She has
often snagged a few of mine when I order them but this must be the first time
my West Cumbria has ordered them off her own bat. (TBH, I was a bit miffed as I
was going to have some but she beat me to the draw.) As it would seem extremely
twee of us to have the same item I settled for the sea bass. This was an
excellent choice, though, as it was delicious.
We just had to have the same dessert, lemon meringue tart.
It was like my LM Pie but with a different sort of filling of lemon and the
meringue was nothing like the way I prepare it. That being said, it was just as
wonderful.
This time we were the object of scrutiny of a group of lads
who came in while we were eating but who obviously lacked the courage of the
Lagg Lads to wander over and chance their luck with us.
Maybe the Lagg Lads had
warned the Killie Boys? Maybe these were the Lagg Lads spruced up a bit and
looking smarter? You could see the group of them looking over at us and
whispering to each
other.
I pointed them out to Laura as we were finishing off our
wine – a really nice un-oaked chardonnay, as it happens – and she said, “Let’s
give them something to think about then…” she half stood up, leaned across the
table and kissed me. Full on the lips and lingering. I responded and we spent a
few uncomfortable seconds stretched across the table playing wind up the
locals.
She went to the bar and paid the bill as I gathered up my
belongings. She was smiling as she came back, I could tell some comment or two
had passed between them when she was squaring up but she didn’t see fit to tell
me until later.
One of them had made a comment about how he could show her a
thing or two that her girlfriend (me) couldn’t. He reply was that she (meaning
me) knew exactly what to do to please a pussy whereas you lot (them) look as
though you think a pussy is a four legged creature that’s happy with a saucer
of milk and being shut in their Gran’s barn to catch the mice!
I am glad she didn’t tell me until we were in the car as I
hooted. Where does she get it? OK, I know, it is a case of watch and copy!
After an endorsement like that I asked her if the feline
needed stroking immediately or would be happy to wait the few minutes while we
drove back to WB. She told me she would drive and I could start the petting
once the car was moving. She had to move my hand away before we hit WB as she
was getting more and more distracted by my actions.
The only downside to all this erotic activity is I know
we’ll both get a visit from Uncle Tom next week which will dampen our ardour!
Tuesday Mar 31st
There seemed to be less likelihood of rain today – according
to the local web-site weather forecast but we decided to stay close to the van
and do something we have not done before – a walk using the Paddy Dillon book
which I bought from the newsagent in the village yesterday morning. I snapped
it up because it is published by Cicerone Press and they have done some really
good walking guides for the Lakes (obviously not Wainwright but good for route
ideas).
We decided to try The Sheeans and Glen Cloy. Not straight
away, though. We are working (and walking) to Laura’s revision timetable.
Having been there myself in 2009, I know just how invaluable getting the
revision right is, so I am not going to put any obstacles in her way. That she
is undoubtedly brilliant with numbers is a given but it isn’t a good idea to
leave anything to chance.
While she was working I made us a vegetable soup with the
remainder of the vegetables from our shop last week, which we ate for lunch.
The walk starts from the car park at the top of the slope
into Brodick – it is height gained for nothing, which I like when fell walking.
The bumps themselves form a sort of ring above the town and harbour to the
south side and give an impressive view across the water to the higher fells and
the other islands further up the Firth of Clyde. The downside was the mud in
the wooded bits. Some of the rides were a bit claggy underfoot – this is hardly
surprising given the amount of rain that seems to have fallen during March.
The path way is quite clear in the wood but less distinct
out on the fell itself. The first rocky outcrop we reached was Sheeans itself.
From there we could see the ring of other tops quite clearly and also discern a
faintish route between them. They are a bit like the rockiness between
Loughrigg Fell and the Langdale Pikes in the Lake District, being a hodge-podge
of rocky protuberances which are scattered along a ridge of grass, boggy,
moorland type vegetation. Here, though, the ridge is in the form of a circle
enclosing a number of burns which all head down to Brodick.
From Sheeans we hit (in order) Cnoc Breac, Tor nan Dearc and
finally Cnoc Dubh – which, frankly, was underwhelming. The route followed a
spur for a while and then lost height heading for Glen Cloy. This is the only
downside of what up to now had been an interesting if easy stroll. In order to
get back to the car we had to re-enter the woods and climb back up hill. [Note
to Mr Dillon, please don’t end a walk with an unexpected ascent. It is a bit
sould destroying.]
To be fair, if I had read the map correctly I would have
spotted the climb back up the burn to hit the forest road once more. So perhaps
I need the note, not Paddy! The wood paths was once again a bit of a muddy mess
in places and Callie seemed to revel in getting herself muddy. Luckily we found
another small burn near the car park where I was able to entice her into a pool
to remove the majority of the clag on her fur.
For so short a walk we ended up a pair of sweaty Betties, so
as soon as we had dried off a damp doggy we hit the shower and cleaned each
other thoroughly. After we had dried off we adjourned to the bed room for what
we expected to be a profitable exploration of what we had just washed but what actually
ended up being a surprise sleep instead.
Any early night was agreed upon after our meal but this time
we didn’t sleep for a while.
Wednesday April 1st
Poisson d’Avril.
Today we decided to follow the shore line after Laura’s
morning revision.
I planned to catch the bus to Brodick and walk back to WB
via the Cnoc na Dail stone circle and then on along the water’s edge through Lamlash
to KC Point and home. The height climbed is minimal and the views are out of
all proportion to the effort required.
The route takes us through the delightfully named Fairy Glen
(we encountered none) up to the stone circle at Cnoc na Dail – which is not all
that impressive to be honest but the views of Holy Island are stunning to make
up for it.
We had a cuppa and bun in one of the cafes in Lamlash,
feeling like typical tourists in this most touristy town on the whole island,
we then struck out for Kings Cross Point and the van. At the point I had a
surprise. We had a sit and an apple each and Loll reminded me we had almost
bonked here earlier in the holiday. I remembered the feeling of bottled up
passion when the bloody tourists appeared before we could get it on. Laura, as if
by magic, pulled out one of our toys from the side pocket of her day-sack and
told me we should find a sheltered spot and get busy.
The best place was round past the “Viking boat” and round to
the shore line. Here Laura made the toy miraculously disappear – not an easy
task when wearing walking trousers. In a most undignified position, with my
trews about my knees I was brought to the height with the use of a pink
plastic, see through penis administered by a thoroughly naughty blonde who
looks like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth!
I was all set to return the favour but she said no, once was
chancy twice would be definitely pushing our luck. You don’t argue with a
statistician over probability. I was trying to persuade her, however, by
running my fingers over the outline of the object of my desire in her trousers
when, sure enough, a couple of lads climbed down onto the shore where we had
and began walking towards us. Phew.
If they had appeared about five minutes earlier they would
have met a sight to set their pulses racing.
We chatted with them for a while and walked back into WB
with them. They claimed to be students from The U of Glasgow but there is no
way of knowing if that was true. Once again, they couldn’t believe that Laura
was studying P & A Maths – that happens all the time. They were here for
the week and were hating the weather we’d had. We sympathised but explained it
helped Loll’s revision time table no end, so we weren’t as upset about the rain
as they were. We left them at the café as they stopped for a brew, we strolled
back to the van.
Laura almost literally pounced on me when we got in and I
returned the favour with the toy ten-fold. If she had said something like, “Let’s invite
them back and f*ck them…” do you know, I would have gone along with it in a
second. Whilst I was hiding our toy and licking her little love bump to make
her squeal I wondered if I would have had them both if I had been alone. Once
she began on me again with a second of our toys I knew I wouldn’t.
Most men have no idea what makes us burn with desire; they
are only too keen to shoot their load and then stop. Laura keeps me simmering
for ages and ages. It is like a form of ecstatic torture. Even if I had been
with both of those guys, by the time I reached my sixth or seventh O with Laura
they’d have been spent and useless for over an hour!
Thursday April 2nd
Another dryish day today. We enjoyed our coastal walk so
much yesterday we decided that we’d do something similar today after Laura’s
revision session. We caught the round the island bus to Lagg and then headed
off to do the coastal stretch from there to Kildonan.
We jumped off the bus at the post office and wandered out
way through the double settlements of Kilmory and Lagg , visiting the Torrylin
Cairn burial chamber on the way down to the shore line.
This is another Neolithic
site but unlike the Giant’s Graves it seems to have been plundered over the
centuries. All that remain are a few standing stones and mounds. I suppose the
temptation to steal ready quarried stones is understandable – look at how
Carlisle Castle is made from Hadrian’s Wall stone (allegedly).
It was a pity there wasn’t a chambered cairn, it would have
been impressive (the best example I have visited – at Wayland’s Smithy has a
real feeling of being somewhere special and sacred). I know I am being irrational
and foolish, but it is undeniable that these ancient people had a design and
purpose for their structures and that sort of means they deserve a sort of
reverence. I feel the same way when I enter a Cathedral; I love the structure
and the architecture and decoration whilst the empiricist in me realises it is
a structure built on metaphorical sand. All religion is merely superstitious
mumbo jumbo, but the fact this set of fairy tales inspired the building of such
places is both inspiring and saddening.
It affects me every time.
Having had a good old wander round the site, we tramped off
down the burn to the shore line and our stroll along the water’s edge to
Kildonan. The plan was to scoff our
late-ish lunch somewhere near Black Cave and then head to seal spotter’s heaven
making sure we were there by 6.15 pm or we’d miss the last bus back to Whiting
Bay and would have to walk (or get a taxi).
Black cave looks quite impressive. I bet seen from the water
it is even more so. It is set into what looks like a cylindrical column of
rock, in the bottom left corner. I know it isn’t a solid column but that is
just its appearance. There is a small opening way up on the left hand side that
lets in light to the cave but on exploration proved to be terribly slippery,
because of the constant inundation with the tides, making it a serious danger
to climb out with being belayed from above. I had a good old scramble about and
found it too risky.
It is, however, possible to scramble up the high window on
the west side and maybe be lowered down, but I had left the climbing stuff back
in Whiting Bay (we had only really brought it on spec, anyway). The scramble is
quite a challenge in one part but otherwise do-able. Laura preferred to sit at
the bottom and watch her human fly girlfriend cling to the rocks alone.
It was a wise decision on her part, in the end, as the wind
was whipping the water from the waterfall, almost adjacent to the top opening right
across me at times. Despite donning my kag, my trouser legs got drenched. As we’d
passed nobody on the walk so far I took them off and fastened them to the loop
on the top of my day sack to billow in the wind and we wolfed down our
sandwiches as we walked on. I must have looked pretty weird walking along in a
mini skirt. It was actually my kagoule which came down to my mid-thigh but with
no trousers visible below. I do have a couple of dresses which are this short,
but usually I am wearing them to a function in town where it is a common enough
sight. Luckily my knickers were dark blue and would only be seen if I had to
bend over (I have the same over-exposure problem with the dresses to be honest,
LOL).
After less than half an hour my trousers were dry and I was
able to cover my immodesty as we approached Kildonan.
We had a cuppa at the hotel and caught the bus back to
Whiting Bay as we’d planned. Joy of joys as we entered the van, our oven timer
had obviously worked and the delicious smell of a beef stew assailed our
nostrils. I missed up some dumpling mix and whacked them into the tureen then
joined my companion in the shower for a thorough wash and indugence.
The stew was great, the wine delicious and the new Boxed Set
of “Orange is the New Black” DVDs proved a good way to spend the rest of the
evening.
Our plan for tomorrow is more touristy stuff – Brodick Castle
and gardens. It should be prepared for our visit by now!
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