Oh ye'll tak' the high road

And I'll tak' the low road,

An' I'll be in Scotland afore ye......

.....and a wet road it was too, going to Connel, near Oban, for the first night of our trip to Mull. But it grew lovelier and lovelier as we drove into the highlands. Scotland suits rain, and a grey light; water becomes silvery, and the skies are visibly filled with changeable weather. And the infamous Scottish midge doesn't seem so keen to bite you and drain your life blood when it's raining.

We arrived at our B&B, to a warm welcome, a stunning view, and decor best described as floral; floribunda excessiva, even.

To my utter joy, there was even a crocheted loo roll cover.

We had dinner at a nearby restaurant, and watched the sun set. This stretch of water, Loch Etive, has the spectacular Falls of Lora, where two opposing currents, from loch and sea, are clearly visible, especially at a spring tide, encouraging hardy folk in kayaks and sensible clothing to do exciting and brave things. We thought we wouldn't bother, thank you. Instead, we opened our umbrellas, splashed our way back to the guest house and slumped in front of a blazing fire to watch tv before bed. Two happy campers.

After a comfortable night amongst all the pink roses, we had a substantial and very good breakfast, and bade our cheerful friendly host goodbye. I chose this guest house because online it had an uncanny resemblance to my mother's, sharing her love of flouncy floral bedding and a warmth and generosity towards its visitors, but I think it outdid her in abundance of floweriness and frills.

Not my taste at all, but I would happily come back to it again, for its homely, clean comfort, its roaring fire in the guests' lounge, and its pleasant landlord.


With the weather fairing up nicely, we set off for Oban and the ferry to Mull. The water was choppy, and, fearing a repeat of the Sydney Harbour cruise fiasco, I chewed crystallised ginger and tried to forget that substantial breakfast, having no wish to revisit it on the high seas.


Then we were expertly loaded into the bowels of the vessel, and off we went for our mini holiday, humming 'Marie's Wedding' and declaring that we wouldn't care about the weather, whatever it turned out to be.