Dyb Dyb Dyb, Scouts Honour and the Power of a Pineapple

A late March birthday is a gift in itself. You never know what you’re going to get and therefore expectations are open for taking what you find on the day. A summer birthday brings a little more pressure - I feel. Maybe I’m biased.

On my 10th birthday I remember my big sister, Coila, walking me down to the Priest Pond on a beautiful sunny, warm day. Daffodils and frog spawn everywhere.

On my 16th I remember walking through a damp, snowy field on a very driech day with my pal, Sarah - talking about boys.

On my 50th, my best pal since we were 19, treated me to a night at the newly renovated Corrour Station and restaurant. Because she’s a believer in being spoilt on your birthday.

It was deep snow, blue skies, warm, and so exciting, as we felt we were on the top of the world.

We could even see Ben Nevis!

And while we ate and then rested before the train home, Mel did a drawing of the restaurateurs dog.

Which looks like MY dog!

When I was 60 I made Running Girl walk 15 miles of the east highland way with me, where we were chased by flurries of snow and hit by hailstones. Where we crossed a ‘braided’ river which had 6 parts to it all of which had deep channels.

Me and the dawg spent 3 hours slumped in the Newtonmore Grill before we could lift our heads, while Running Girl recc’d the area for a suitable tent spot, erected the tent, and then had to coax me out of the Grill. It was closing time so unless I wanted to hide in the toilets, I didn’t have much choice.

We spent a cramped night next to a huge muddy puddle with the high speed night trains whizzing over us, and a farmer in his tractor woke us early as he redistributed the contents of the puddle over our tent. We were still there when the diverted Caledonian Sleeper passed above our heads. Running Girls daughter was working on the train and said she’d have thrown a breakfast sandwich at us if she’d known. Shame, but we went back to the grill for breakfast

Last year I decided on 2 nights on my own in Glasgow. I loved it and wasn’t always on my own due to chatty Glaswegians, sharing a drink with them and then meeting a friend for coffee on my way home. I love incidental, unplanned situations.

This year I made Running Girl come up with a plan that would challenge my lazy arse into action. It’s my 62nd birthday and I haven’t run since I was 54. I’d casually mentioned that I might try running again…… So it was the 11.30am train to Corrour which is an hour up the tracks, and 3 hours to make it round the 10 mile Loch Ossian loop and be back in the station waiting room in time to brew tea and eat a picnic. It had to be a jog/run or we might not make the 3.30pm train. And we wanted our picnic. It’s a long wait until the next one around 9pm. There’s no bus coming through in this wonderful wilderness. It had to be a Scout run, her mother called it. This is a way to cover longer distances quickly without exhaustion. (Turns out I’m no Scout!!!! )

But we did cover the distance quicker and even had time for a hot chocolate in the restaurant. I didn’t take a photo as I was too busy, hunched over my mug, sooking the lumps of molten marshmallow slowly through the cream, savouring every moment of it.

1st train ride for Courr and he was quite happy. Apart from sitting like this until I came back from the loo - just in case I abandoned him. It was a long train and he was trying to keep me in sight.

The forecast had predicted a dry start with rain coming in from the west after 2.30pm. When it came, it hit straight into our faces in a strong stinging wind on the last lap which gave me a facial strip that promised I’d look 5 years younger once the redness abated. This has turned out to be an empty promise.

But that’s ok. Sara made me a cake. The other week I’d given her some pineapple chunks for lunch, telling her they were good for her because they were full of Bromide. She was a little offended I felt she needed that until I remembered it is Bromelain. And SHE had remembered that bromelain is good for muscle soreness and recovery.

Unfortunately I forgot to eat my pineapple that day or the next and muscle soreness ruled my every movement - and non movement.

Sheltering from the wind, she brewed up a cuppa and we ate our sandwiches. We met Jo and her pals who were on the deluxe version of our trip. They’d taken the early train, stopped in the restaurant for black pudding rolls allowing time for the pudding to settle, before jogging round the loch and getting back in time for lunch and before the rain. That’s far too much luxury for Running Girl. Nothing she likes more than a bit of wild weather and a home brewed cuppa for after. I’m kinda surprised she let me in the restaurant at all.

Whilst Running Girl was delighted with the hardship of the challenge, the dog was gubbed.

No amount of pineapple or cups of tea was going to ease the shock of the sudden change of plan for anything more than a 40 minute sniff-around. He doesn’t need to worry though. It’s unlikely to be a regular occurrence. It’s a year until my next birthday.