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Bright like the morning
The autumn colours were glorious in Glen Lyon. The contrast against the deep blue sky was striking; the russet brown of the carpet of leaves and needles at the side of the road, the deep orange of the leaves still clinging onto the branches, the bright red of the Honda doing 15mph the whole way…
A long way for a scampi supper
This winter is proving to be a wee bit odd. Wettest on record they say, but I’m pretty sure they say that every month now. There’s certainly a lot of snow out there. The ski chaps are struggling to keep their tows running and even MacInnes stirred from his slumber (for that is what giants…
The Rushmore finale
The family calendar was filling up faster than an MP’s bank account. A free weekend was a rare sight, but a miserable forecast certainly wasn’t. The guide from MWIS was clear: north, Miss Tessmacher, north. The further north the better, but to be honest we don’t fancy your chances much. I left a little earlier…
The Rushmore finale, part 2
There’s a weird thing that happens when you’re camping, you revert to being a bit more primeval. Your caveman brain reasserts itself. I find that my internal security system kicks in and I always sleep with one ear open. It took me a moment to come round and realise what had set the alarm bells…