Have just returned from what one kind friend described as "my latest tree hugging adventure" when she phoned me this morning to see if I was speaking normally again - or still chanting.....
I did have in fact the most marvellous restoring adventure with my sister as we "seized the day" and headed not for the hills, but the sea. Proving Scotland has to be right up their with spectaculor AND conveniant as a holiday destination! Our itinerary began badly with the need to make our first decision 600 yards from her front door as to whether we went, as she put "by the motorway" (an A road) or meandered. In the end as Hedge had unhelpfully removed the map along with the rugby boots and jump leads from the boot of the car -we did both.
Thankfully we had no need for the boots or leads -and because we did a fair bit of surreptitious beach combing the boot looked like an "arty skip" on our return. We headed for The Creative Retreat - an escape from reality in the little seaside settlement of Gardenstown -6 miles from MacDuff - between Banff and Fraserburgh.
The villages claim to fame was it's eight churches to one pub -and a slight air of tumble weed rolling down the one main street that hugs the coast at the foot of a steep cliff. There is barely room for two cars to pass let alone any parking -but we did have a birds eye view along the length of the street from the sitting room window of the lovely simple little house we took. No need for a telly -there was a surprising ammount of to-ing and fro-ing with a marvellous "cast" -especially as we took the oppertunity to make up their script for them....
After arriving (my sister's not much of a map reader) - and not having the most specific directions -go left at the brown shed (which had been painted blue) go down a steep hill, then a steeper one and its the house up the steps next to the pub, red key fits lock....I was confronted with six doors and we had the first moment of a developing theme of helpless incontinent laughter as I tried the key in all six locks........At least the following day when we were the ones with people walking into our house yelling "Is this the right place?" we got a double laugh - especially the third time it happened and I made my sister wait until they came up two flights of stairs into our sitting room to enquire.....We were so busy unhelpfully snorting and giggling we could barely direct the "new comers" that in fact no it wasn't -such was their mortification - imagine heading into someones front room thinking you'd arrived!! they were all identifiable as other artists (so I didnt feel quite so bad) but they had yet to climb up the perpendicular steps on the outside of the house to the studio that was entered from the street above - the houses had a peculiar way of spanning two streets.
On the upside of their being a life class with the most fantastic professional model 50 steps away - I joined the class on the second afternoon and lost myself in a cosy fug of like minded people transporting myself back 25 years to art college - BLISS! and not bad results either.....
meanwhile my sister hugged rocks not trees and got herself as lost as you can in the quaint little streets where every close takes you within 2 inches of the inhabitants living room window, like some weird gallery -but every second house is a holiday home -with notices taped to the panes inviting you to look in and book -we only found ourselves inspecting two dwellings where the owners were living and very tolerant of us gawping.
The beach was brilliant with the most amazing stones - and tiny teeny little round bits of glass the size of cat litter with edges worn as smooth as a pebble. The pockets of our coats soon filled to the point of had we fallen in the water drowning would have been a certainty. Mo, a determined trophy hunter carried an enormous decorative rock all the way home despite my protests that she was pillaging -she ascertained with the greatest of authority that on a beach with a gazillion pebbles - there was plenty for everyone.
Typical Scottish short break weather -it rained, it snowed, it hailed, the sun shone, it was windy -gale force, warm -and freezing cold -all in two days!
The publican informed us that Friday was "Pie night" and to "expect a rush in the street at midnight" -unsure if he was pulling our touristy legs or not we were amazed when the cars started lining up and the scuttling started. Everyone kept disappearing into a wall - so when we went to investigate further and were completely blown away a. from the smell of the baking (whilst again slightly hysterical at the thought that they might be Sweeny Todding the tourists" we tentatively pushed open a plain brown door with no handle to be confronted with every sort of fresh hot pie - 2 for a £1 -in every sort of variety....although no canabills, and damn it the chocolate eclairs were not to be ready for another half hour......
We put the world to rights, talked ourselves to sleep, got caught out with the clocks changing - so didn't go to bed till 3am -laughed until we were sore, cried until we were better and slept like there was no demands on time. The initial purpose of the trip was to drop some pictures to a new gallery that is just re-launching, what we found was a vibrant art's sympathetic (mostly) - except for the local in the pub who thought Id been drawing newts - not nudes......I will most definitely return. Hedge would surely find it to his liking - just "knowing" there was a naked woman reclining in the room above him, plus hot pies and a cold pint within stabbing distance. the problem would still remain as to what to do with the boys....for Ferg there is no mobile phone signal (another wahay!) -the essential communication point that becomes as necessary as breathing for an adolescent. As for Archie and Fin -just too many doors to knock on and run away - too many windows to treat like the telly - they would certainly not have shown their mother and aunt's good manners -I'm quite certain they would have delighted in treating the going's on like a real life episode of Corrie....
We reluctantly trailed home passing a hobo hitch hiking that we decided was not Brad Pitt and therefore we had no need to stop for him - and after visiting Pennan (more beach combing and wet knickers)-and the RSPB reserve at Troup head where we lay for 3 hours watching gannets -I managed to controll my normal aversion to the birders as I saw for once the point of "watching" -I took nearly 200 photographs - please feel very free to decline the invitation if I ever offer to show you the results - I got a bit carried away with them wheeling overhead and took shot after shot of them zooming over. As we flicked through the digital results in the car there was a bird, and another bird, and another, and another -it seemed like a good idea at the time. I took several of my sister at the edge of the cliff instructing her two move to the right a bit.... it was only 150ft sheer drop off the edge -she sat on my legs and promised not to let go as I dangled past the point of safety to photograph nesting kittiwakes and gannets - another reason it was just as well the boys were at home (do as I say not as I madly do)
Only with hindsight did we realise that it was a moment of utter perfect bliss -not another human being in site - no wind, warm sunshine, warm tussocky grass to lie in, sensational views and a spectacular ariel display. Moments like that are hard to come by -confirmed by Hedge when I was describing it to him by "thank god I wasn't there...." I returned to find a clean and cosy house, the fire was on, hoovering was done, and the washing and ironing complete. A roast chicken dinner in the oven and the boys hysterical with relief that I had returned as they all said their father had been a tyrant with the hoover mop and bucket and wouldnt let them move without berrating them for the mess they were making. To be fair they can't acctually move without making a mess, it was so good to see them all again and 12 hours later the house is "back to normal" in a state of small nuclear device exploding in a skip...I was spectacularly grateful as coming home was as welcome as getting shot of them for 3 days had been, and there really is no place like home....well no bed and hugs anyway.......
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