Sunday, October 18th, 2009
*shuffleshuffleshuffle*
(I’m trying to sneak in without drawing too much attention to myself.)
*shuffleshuffleshuffle*
Once more, I’m ashamed at my lack of updates. Thanks to those of you who sent emails and texts demanding that I get my act together. I’m back, and I promise you photographs, and knitting, and my trademark rambling on, brackets and hyphens.
When I wrote my last post, I’d just finished the BUPA Great North Run. I’ve finally got my much-coveted medal and Great Run have posted my photos from the event (I’m the one in pink). All 8 of them were taken by photographers at the finish line. It’s strange, because I felt as though I’d really put a spurt on fow the last hundred metres or so, but in those photos it seems like I’m barely moving. I’ll just congratulate myself on still looking quite fresh-faced, and opposed to looking half-dead, which is how I thought it’d be.
That was Sunday, 20 September. It feels like forever ago. I felt OK after the run (apart from being in a huge traffic jam and really, really needing the toilet) and Neil and I set off on our merry way to Scotland the next day.
We stayed in a house in a place called Back of Keppoch, a couple of miles from Arisaig, in the West Highlands. The house had views of the Isle of Skye and we were very close to lots of stunning beaches. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite bikini weather - breezy! - but we got out and about a fair bit, adventurewise. One day, we got on the ferry to the Isle of Rum, one of the Small Isles off the west coast of Scotland. Rum is now a National Nature Reserve, home to red deer, sea eagles and golden eagles.
Being on Rum was pretty strange. Around 25 people live on the island, which is the largest of the Small Isles. There’s not much in the way of settlements: all but one of these people live in Kinloch, where the ferry docks. There is one road out of Kinloch (the roads are basically red sandstone rubble, and aren’t shown on maps. There is no tarmac on the island) which splits into two, and will either take you to Kilmory in the north, or Harris in the south. We took a tour of Kinloch Castle, a house built by a wealthy, arguably eccentric man in the late 19th Century, and the guide there told us that one person currently stays in Kilmory, as he’s involved in a survey of the red deer. No-one lives in Harris: it is home only to the Bullough family mausoleum. It was a really interesting visit, and of course the scenery was fantastic, but I couldn’t imagine living there. As much as I like peace and quiet and walking about all over the place, I think I’d go a bit mad if I couldn’t leap into Muriel and go jamming on off wherever I fancied.
We also spent a day at Ardnamurchan point, the westernmost point on the British mainland. It sticks out further than Land’s End, and its main features are a great big lighthouse and bleak weather. Of course, we climbed to the top of the lighthouse. Despite there being two keepers’ cottages at the foot of the lighthouse, no-one lives there anymore; the lighthouse is actually controlled by computer in Edinburgh, on the other side of the country. I thought that was quite sad, but that’s government efficiency savings for you.
The rest of our time was filled with adventurous clambering about, flying Neil’s scary big kite, eating loooovely food and drinking a fair bit of vino. Neil played a round on the picturesque Traigh golf course, which was close by. The golf club building was tiny and looked like a cottage you’d see in a cartoon: a window at either side and the door in the middle. They also had an honesty box for green fees, for when the club building was closed.
My favourite part of the trip was Camusdarach beach. For those of you who’ve seen it, the beach features heavily in the film Local Hero. It was quite windy each time we visited, but the big sand dunes provided enough shelter for us and our bucket barbecue (great for warming your feet). We flew the scary kite a bit more, and though I decided not to brave the water in my bikini, Neil donned his wetsuit and happily went for a splosh. It really is a fantastic part of the world.
Knitting wise, I’d planned to cast-on a Grace lace beret while we were away, but my Blue Sky Alpacas yarn didn’t arrive in time. Instead I made an emergency pit-stop at John Lewis in Newcastle, when Laura and I went to the pre-GNR pasta party, and stocked up on enough yarn to start a pair of fairisle socks. They’re going pretty well but, unfortunately, I’ve only done one foot and already have about 3 million ends to weave in. And so…
When I got home from Scotland to discover my 4 hanks of red Alpaca and Silk waiting for me, well… I managed to hold on for a few weeks and carry on with the sock, only we’ve got some things planned for the beginning of November and I really, really want to have a nice red hat and scarf to wear. So I knitted up a few alpaca swatches last week and, on Thursday, cast on for my jolly hat. Though I’m knitting a Grace beret I’m making my own pattern as I go along. Hopefully it’ll all work out fine (hm!).
