We hired a car this weekend and made our way out of the tram demolition site that is Edinburgh and headed west in the rain and mist. Our aim was to join the walking group on an ascent of Ben Vorlich near Lochearnhead.

Ben Vorlich is supposed to offer views of the beautiful surrounding countryside and Ben Nevis in the distance, (these photos were taken on another day) instead I saw mist, sphagnum moss, riverlets, and an array of lovely colourful Goretex jackets that were ahead or kept passing me as I stopped to breathe my ragged breaths, and curse all those that persuaded me to climb this stupid Munro in the rain. After the agonising last haul up the brae to the summit, with the wind swiping my cheeks, I could only give thanks to Waitrose’s baby bottom butter that I had lathered on my face earlier.

We duly posed for the picture, then with a triumphant sigh we headed off down again. This was nice – passing blueberries, foxgloves and wild wild heathers.

The grasses were green and lush and black faced lambs pranced in the drizzle, dancing out of a pre-raphaelite picture.

The misery was all forgotten when we met Sue and Mike and Andy for dinner in Crieff and caught up with news and drank white wine and ate king prawn linguine…it was all so warm and comforting. My skin felt radiant and soft, thanks to the BBB.

That night, John and I stayed in ‘Newstead, Crieff, Perthshire, Scotland.’

The address that belonged to me and 35 other girls for six years of our lives. The house has been split into flats and we stayed in the middle one that is now a B&B.

Nowadays there is no lino on the floors, no iron bedsteads, we could bath when we liked, we could walk around with no fear of matron. This room below was the green room and had 6 beds at one time. It was the first room I ever stayed in. Now it is just so luxurious!

I loved it, I loved the feeling of knowing the walls, the doors, the bathroom, and lying in bed that night I couldn’t sleep for the ghosts of my long ago sisters.

I could hear Sheena Hirst’s voice, Elaine, Mary Moffat, Karen Adam and my own special friends, Sheila, Susan, Gerry, the twins, and Margie.

I lay beside John in the room that Gerry and I shared 40 years ago, when ‘boys’ were NOT allowed on the premises…yet I seem to remember Spider Ryder climbing up to that balcony on the last night of term and Gerry and I spiriting him downstairs to the kitchen and sitting under the table. I remember crying as I watched Wally standing out on the road in the snow on his last night before he left for Austalia, and midnight feasts, prep and tidying drawers ready for inspection on a Saturday morning.

The bedroom above was the one where Gerry and I pulled Spider off the balcony!

Our stay was not maudlin; it was nice, like inviting old friends back into my life.

Our landlady was delightful, full of the joys, and stories of her grandchildren…she was enamoured with her granddaughter after having had just grandsons. ‘She’s great, she just says, “come on, Granny let’s go to your wardrobe and look at all the clothes you don’t wear!” whereas the boys were happy to be given a stick and just disappear to the garden for hours on end. Girls are company!

Sadly we said goodbye to the beautiful copper beach tree, where I am sure the ‘slimming hole’ still exists. We all managed to wriggle through the gap in the branches until puberty hit and our hips grew too wide. I remember it being a sad day, a day when we realised that size mattered.

Onwards up the A9 to Kingussie where we visited with Aunty Mary.

She was fine, so much more cheery than last time, inspite of being unable to move about and being confined to hospital.

We put some flowers on my mother and granny’s graves in the desolate cemetery just outside Kingussie … The grey stone dyke surrounding this last place of rest is quite a talking point. People say, ‘well it won’t be long till I’m over the dyke.’ I suppose that is where I will end up one day. It’s a lonely spot. John and I were quite bemused by the family of oyster catchers leaping about and squawking with their yellow beaks. It seemed so strange to see them so far inland.

And now, it’s a new week. Aching bones from Ben Vorlich, John off to Korea, me off to yoga and I have bought material to make a red dress.

My weekend made me touch base with the first home I ever stayed in in Scotland, in Kingussie

and then Newstead in Crieff. Feels weird, I was a girl again.