Last week we drove north in the smallest car known to man. It looked like a ladybird, and was in danger of disappearing over the Forth Road Bridge in a puff of wind. Well, we did ask for a Budget deal and so we couldn’t complain. We arrived in Kingussie in a downpour and finally found St Vincent’s Hospital where we visited with Aunty Mary, now very frail and sad, and I was sorry to see her so poorly.

The rain followed us over the hills to the West Coast, and then it cleared and we were stunned by the beauty of the Cluny Hills, and the Five Sisters of Kintail

and all the other mountains that form a back drop to the journey that finally brought us to Glenelg.

Catriona had invited my old neighbour, Mary over for dinner and we all enjoyed the most delicious venison, ‘fine wine and conversation’! John was mesmerised as the three of us took up as though we had seen each other yesterday. We fell into the easy short cuts of speech as we remembered this character or that incident and Mary’s funny story about her poor mother being taken into hospital at the age of 91 with 2 broken ribs. ‘How did it happen, Mrs Monroe?’ the doctor asked. ‘Well now, it happened when I was giving Duncan’s car a push, he needed to bump start it you see.’

And the stories went on, and when I finally got to bed after 1am, my head was spinning. I so miss these special friends.

The following morning John and I went off to Arnisdale and Coran and had hoped to have coffee in Sheila’s tea hut, but sadly it wasn’t open.

The mountains loomed high above us, and we saw Ben Sgrithill, and Larven over on the Knoydart peninsula and in the distance Eigg and Rum. Coming back to Glenelg the little lady bird met a fish farm truck on a steep hill, and when John braked, nothing happened. The brakes had broken. Oh My God.

Somehow we got back to the village and called in to see Cath and Ian who let us use their telephone and a new car was dispatched on the back of a lorry, it would arrive in 4 hours. We ate soup and talked. I had a picture of a stag and a woman that I was considering using as an idea for a cover for The Highland Games when Ian said, ‘Is that not Bin Laden?’ John was quite taken aback…did Ian have names for all the stags?

It turns out the stag was a pet, rescued when found in Arnisdale, starving and like a skeleton. Willie the Post had nursed him back to health but he grew to be a menace, worse than a dog as he was always on the lookout for snacks and hand outs. In the rutting season he would go off to the hill, but Willie painted a big yellow dot on his rump so that stalkers wouldn’t shoot him by mistake. Quite different from his namesake, I’m sure Obama’s crowd would have appreciated a yellow dot on their Bin Laden!

The idea of having a pet stag in your village is quite cute in theory, but quite scary if you didn’t have anything to give him, as apparently he would give you a good gore with his antlers. He was put down last year, for doing just that.

After our soup and stag conversation, John and I walked up the path to my old house.

I looked down the Sound of Sleat and the view was the same, and as I walked across the grass it was as though I still lived there.

It was all so familiar. The beach, the rocks, the hills and the sea.

Only my garden had been turned back to turf. The new owners have no interest. Still, it was good to see the old house enjoying such a rich and affluent time, but I have my own memories and to me, it was the house where my children grew up and it will always have a special place in my heart.

From broken brakes to a replacement car with a posh starter key that only works when the clutch is put in, was enough to add to monkey moments…as Gerry says, when we have to use our IQ! How long does it take before you work it out? (A long time, and we needed help!)

Now it’s back to Edinburgh, and the garden and the new plants. John has finished landscaping a central rocky feature, and had to stay in a hot bath for hours last night to ease the ache from his back. Amazingly today he is fine and bouncing about full of the joys. I have to go and fill the window boxes and the old Chinese Dragon Pots with geraniums and Lobelia and whatnot. Roll on summer days!