Looks like my poor, neglected blog and I survived another year. My regular readers (all two of you) will note that it's officially been 6 months since I last wrote here. 6 months! Where did the time go? If only I had some way to record what I've been doing so I could look back and remember what I've been up to. Hmmm, hang on a minute...
I actually do have a few half-completed posts covering the past six months, and I'll publish them eventually, but for now I'll satisfy myself with telling you about my Christmas and New Year adventures. I was dreaming of a white christmas, and Santa delivered. My friends and I spent a glorious week in a luxurious country house nestled at the foot of Ben Cruachan in the Argyll area of the Scottish Highlands. There was snow, good food, snow, great company, snow, lots of festive drinkies, snow, open fires and snow. Did I mention the snow?The trip began with a train journey from London to Glasgow, and as we got further north the landscape outside the windows became more and more snow-covered. I was practically glued to the window for the first hour, emitting little squeals of excitement whenever I spotted another huge expanse of white. We arrived safely in Glasgow, collected our hire cars, and continued into the Scottish countryside. Snow becomes more annoying than exciting when driving, although the experience of moving forward in the dark while snow flew horizontally at the windscreen was kind of cool. With the white streaks of snow lit up by our headlights, it looked like the car was about to launch into warp speed. Unfortunately it didn't, we had to drive the whole distance bound by the normal laws of physics. Ripped off.
We'd been warned that the private track leading up to the estate may become a bit difficult to traverse if the weather was bad. Well, the weather was bad and it proved impossible to traverse. All three cars got stuck in the snow at some point, and after much revving, pushing and jumping up and down on the bonnet, we had to admit defeat. So there were 12 of us in 3 cars spaced about half a kilometre apart, stuck in the snow with all our luggage and food, in the dark, with no idea how much further away the house was. The owner of the estate had mentioned he could help us out with his tractor if we got stuck, but he wasn't answering his phone. We sent a small search party ahead to see how far away the house was, and the rest of us either huddled in the cars for warmth or trekked between the three vehicles providing updates on the latest plan or counter-plan. Oh, did I mention the lack of phone reception? Only two or three of us could get any reception at all - they were charged with trying to call for help - so the rest of us had to trek up and down the icy track to speak to our compatriots in the other cars.
After what seemed like (and probably was) hours, most of the girls decided we'd walk up to the house with some of the food and start cooking - it had been hours and hours since we'd last eaten - while the boys stayed behind and sat in the warm cars doing nothing, er, I mean, tried to move the cars ;) Despite the difficulty of the situation, I was really impressed that there were no raised voices, no tantrums, and nobody freaked out. That first night was actually a great team-bonding experience and the perfect way to start a trip that would essentially involve being stuck in a house with a dozen other people for a week.
Anyway, with my amazing capacity for attracting good luck, it naturally began snowing on me as soon as I started dragging myself and my over-sized suitcase up and down the snow-covered track leading to the house. I was tired, hungry, wet and cold, but the sight of that enormous house peeking over the hill was enough to spur me onwards. The place was fantastic: five bedroom suites with adjoining bathrooms, a bunk room downstairs and another double bedroom in the adjoining cottage, an indoor 'heated' pool (that turned out not to be that warm at all), a library and drawing room, and an enormous kitchen/dining area that looked out over the snow-covered hills and loch beyond. It was amazing.
Eventually the boys were rescued by the owner, and most of our remaining luggage was brought up to the house with them. After leaving our homes in London around 8am, and with no proper meals in between, we eventually sat down to eat dinner at 11pm. It was a long journey, but totally worth it. The next couple of days were filled with logistics - chopping firewood, organising and undertaking what turned out to be the shopping mission from hell to purchase enough food to feed 12-18 people for 7 days, and working out how to keep both the house and our showers warm at the same time - but most people did still manage to find time to explore the snowy surrounds, relax with a book and of course down a few glasses of wine. It was more of the same over the following few days as more friends joined us, eventually reaching a grand total of 18 on Christmas Eve.I'm afraid I can't reveal the exact details of the shenanigans that occurred, or of any intruders who may have entered the House, but I can say all-in-all that it was a fantastic week and I'm finally a convert to the idea of a cold Christmas being a good thing.
I do not, however, and never will support the idea of being freezing on New Years Eve as an acceptable state of affairs.
New Years 2010
A few of us had plans to stay up in Scotland for another week to catch the famous Scottish Hogmanay celebrations. The first part of the week was spent in St Andrews, "The Home of Golf". It's a gorgeous village full of some fascinating old ruins, but with low temperatures driven well below freezing by the wind sweeping off the North Sea, I spent as little time outdoors as possible.
Then it was back to Glasgow on new years eve for what turned out to be a rather pitiful 'celebration' in George Square. I was expecting packed crowds, great live music, and lots of hot, drunken Scots in kilts. Basically, I think I was expecting Edinburgh. What Glasgow delivered was -8 degree weather, a sparse crowd that seemed to consist entirely of very unattractive under-25's and over-50's, live 'entertainment' by Deacon Blue (who?), and fireworks that were lost behind a rising cloud of smoke after the first burst. I was ridiculously sober and ludicrously cold. The night was saved, however, by my companions embracing the ridiculousness of our situation and joining in with silly dances, cheering along with the witless crowd, and laughing at ourselves.
The first day of 2010 was a good one - a fried breakfast, lots of sleep and plenty of crap telly (Muppet Treasure Island anyone?). The highlight was definitely the afternoon, when we went to visit a couple of Scottish friends. We were treated to some new years bubbly, plenty of good cheer, great company, a delicious home-cooked dinner, and even some Aussie beer. Now that's what I call a Happy New Year.
