I’m here!!!! What a flit! My man-with-van was due to drive down from Oban to Edinburgh first thing Wednesday. Tuesday arrived with flurries of snow that settled, and settled, and settled into a deep carpet. Derek’s ever-cheery voice declared that, ‘vehicles can’t get up the hill out of Oban this evening and there’s more snow forecast, but I’m sure we’ll be fine to set off at 6am’ thus defying logic whilst simultaneously triggering a self-fulfilling prophecy: he rolled into Edinburgh the next morning with a toot and a wry grin.

Thanks to my strapping young lads (ah yes, I too feel the wonderful inevitability of redundancy as the next generation take the reins), Derek and his side-kick Donald (gently exuding whiskey fumes from every pore) and a lovely friend of mine who had come to help, all goods and chattels were loaded within two hours and off swayed the over-weight van into a snow-laden western sky. 

‘Gosh Mum, this flat looks so much smaller without your stuff in it, and really rather dull’ I love that, such a compliment that I had managed to make this temporary shelter look like home.

My boys gave me big hugs then vanished on their bikes to work, to rest, to live their lives. Julia (for she is a namesake as well as great friend) and I made coffee and sat on the floor until a buzz heralded the arrival of cleaners. Yup, after a lifetime of doing my own clean-outs at the end of tenancies, I’ve gone soft this time and hired professionals (well, Shirley (Mum’s cleaner) and her hubby Mark, who does windows). I show them around, but it quickly becomes apparent that we are in the way, and with a flash of delight I realise that Julia and I can just hop off for a plate of soup in Stockbridge while the cleaning miracle happens.

By 1pm I’ve read the meter, said my goodbyes to each room, locked, dropped off keys and we are whizzing out of town. Hurrah!!!!

Drifts of silent snowflakes accompany dusk as we take a right at Lix Toll to head for a wee house in the hills above Killin – our night stop before an early run into Oban for the Tiree ferry. This is Julia’s family home, and she has a fire lit and a simple supper cooked before I can fall asleep, which follows shortly thereafter.

4am. Deep snow. Treacherous ice. Was it a mistake not to reach Oban last night? Too late to regret that now. I de-ice the car and Julia brings out hot coffee for the road. But the journey is easy, and the road joyously clear of traffic. We glide into a still-sleeping Oban at 6am and Julia heads for the train station while I wait in lane 4 of the ferry queue.

Was the dawn beautiful over a snow-clad Mull as we slipped past her? I’ll bet it was, but cannot claim it, for I had found a free bench seat and slumbered soundly, my tummy full of Calmac porridge and hot coffee, until the ship’s horn heralded our arrival into Coll. Up on deck for a facefull of ice-sea wind and there’s the Treshnish Isles spread out before me and then, before I know it, we slip along the south side of Tiree and into Scarinish.

Joy seers through me. I’m home. Perhaps a strange sentiment given that I’ve never lived in Tiree before. But I’m definitely home, no doubt about it.

So much more to tell: the kindness of strangers in helping me unload the van, offering me a place to stay, cups of tea, soup, shortbread, time and laughter. One day I’ll tell these stories (perhaps tomorrow, for they tell of bigger things than soup and tea, they tell of a way of living that is so human, so much the opposite of the wars and scars and hurts of the world) but now I have a dog to fetch in from the car, all tired and sandy from our first jog along Balevullin Beach :~D

LOVE,

Jules