Category: travel

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Brochs and Beer

We definitely deserved a grand day out.

Husband was in dire need of a day off the house build, and I was starting to go a bit stir-crazy in the caravan after two days of being locked in to avoid the midges and clegs that had been swarming.

On Sunday we awoke to a sunny day so packed ourselves into the car with a waterbottle and a box of cakes from the children’s cake stall for refugees in the village (well done again, girls) and set off on our grand adventure.

Being a bit of a prehistory enthusiast I’d been reading about brochs for years but had never actually been to one, as they only occur in Scotland and the islands.

We decided that we’d drive to Glenelg to see the two brochs there whilst the weather was good and the daylight hours were still long.

Brochs are truly amazing structures. Built about 2000 years ago – give or take a bit as nobody is sure – these iron age constructions are huge, stone built conical towers.

They have double-skin walls housing integral stone staircases and there is some evidence of a central hearth and one or maybe two levels. No one is quite sure if or how often they were lived in. Looking at the effort involved in the construction it’s clear that they were prestigous, fortified buildings, maybe used as a defense against raids.

Dun Trodden (I kid you not, is that not a simply fabulous name) is one of the tallest and best preserved remaining brochs in Scotland and is located near Glenelg in a tranquil, green valley next to a shallow stream which trickles slowly down to the shore.

Directly across the lane from it we found a turf-roofed microbrewery nestled into the valley, and a taproom where a handful of fellow visitors were basking in the sun sipping their craft beers.

The taproom was called the Dun Inn (it’s getting better, isn’t it). 😊

What an idyllic setting. We must come back for another look once the summer is over, and maybe an explore of the second Broch. Maybe even a lunch at the famous Glenelg Inn just a few miles away.

An impromptu meal at the Indian restaurant once we’d crossed the bridge back over to the island topped off the days adventures nicely. Happily full of spicy food and naan bread, we got back to the caravan just as the sun was setting.

And no washing up. Result.

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Autumn in the Highlands

We drove the last part of our journey today up to the Isle of Skye. Our trip today took us from the borders of Scotland up through the Trossocks, Glencoe and Fort William across to Kyle of Localsh and over the bridge onto the island.

It was a blustery autumn day in the Highlands, but the wind kept the rain clouds moving, and each outbreak of rain was interspersed with the most amazing light and colour.

The leaves, bracken and heathers were a carpet of russet and golds.

My phone camera couldn’t do them justice at all, especially through the glass of a smeary car window, but I hope these snaps will give you a pale glimpse of the glory that is the Highlands at this time of the year.

We were exhausted when we eventually reached the island, but as there was still a bit of light before the sun set, we couldn’t resist dropping in on the croft to let Bertie stretch his legs and take his first introductory sniffs of the land.

He seemed to like it 😊.

Next a quick supper, a hot bath and a good night’s sleep ready for the work to start tomorrow.

We’re weary but happy. It still feels a bit unreal.

We made it.

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The bone-weariness of 5am

It is 5.02 in the morning and I am writing this from our hotel bedroom. The room is overheated and stuffy and our dog lies curled up and slightly confused on his blanket in the corner of an unfamiliar room. I should be asleep. But infuriatingly I can’t sleep, even though I am weary.

Moving house is exhausting. I have done it so many times that although it’s lent a certain proficiency to the process, it’s increasingly a bone-wearying, energy sapping experience. This time especially so with my recent second knee replacement restricting my ability to do much physical work, meaning leaning on husband more than ever.

The house empties so slowly, exposing cobwebs, dust and the ghosts of lost slippers behind furniture.

After a day and a half of loading the removals van we hit a wall at around 4pm. We looked at each other as we stood in our empty kitchen and agreed that we had to stop.

The removals guys were still working through the garage (how do they keep going?) but were happy to complete without us and lock up the house so that we could start the long drive northwards. London rush hour was about to start and we were keen to avoid the worst of it.

As it was, we still hit the rush hour traffic, but every mile towards our first nights destination felt good. We tumbled into an empty bar at our scarily Covid-empty hotel and ate a quick supper before bed.

Today is another day. We’re both relieved to have that behind us and to focus on the drive up-country to our new home.

We’re taking each day at a time.

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Of slow cooked stews and power tools


We’re now in the final few weeks of the London house as the October winds blow. We sit listening to the rain and wind blustering through the branches of the crab apple trees that flank the house, commenting ruefully to each other that this is an early trial for the Skye weather.

We’re making lists of what will be packed for storage and what will be needed in the caravan for the duration of the build.

I’m anticipating a cold, wet Highland winter in the caravan and days of hard physical work, something unfamiliar to our soft urban bodies. Not to mention my still recovering replacement bionic knees.

We’re going to ache and I’m sure that exhaustion will hit pretty quickly. Husband will bear the brunt of this as there are things that he can do that I simply can’t, so one of my small contributions will be keeping us fed. Food will be important for both fuelling tired muscles and keeping morale going.


I’m packing my slow cooker so that I can make soups and stews first thing in the morning to come into at the end of the day without too much effort. It’s comforting to come home to the warmth and smell of a lamb hotpot permeating the caravan when you’re tired, cold and wet. We should be able to raise a spoon and some chunks of bread if we have energy for nothing else!


The kitchen in the caravan is also pretty small so I’m trying to condense down what to pack to the most essential items only. Kettle, oven dishes, plates, cutlery, a few good knives etc. I suspect that our food will be basic until we are in the house, and eaten off laps, but that’s fine by us.


Forget the wild fantasies of feasting off venison and salmon in the Highlands – this is going to be lots of simple cooking designed to fill us up and keep us warm. Soups, porridge, stews and dumplings. Hearty fare, albeit with fresh local produce.

Whilst I’m looking at supplies, husband is restocking essential tools for the build. He got rid of a lot of tools when he moved from the North of England, thinking that they’d no longer be needed in London (and having no storage space for them).

Our living room here is gradually filling up with reciprocating saws, drill bits, power screwdrivers, steel capped boots and work trousers.

I hug myself in anticipation. Not long now until we pack up the car with our ancient spaniel and start the long, slow drive up to the island.

It’s all becoming very real… 👍☺️

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A tale of good stuff

For over fifteen years I commuted on a weekly basis between home in Toulouse and work in London.

Shuttling endlessly between airports was gruelling on my luggage (and the environment…and my knees 😟), and I soon tired of having cabin bags give up the ghost on me after seams split, zips disintegrated or handles came apart.

I bought a Briggs and Riley bag at Gatwick one day without really paying attention to what it was.

I think I was in a tearing hurry to make my departure gate and my carry-on luggage had just fallen apart, so although I noted that it was a bit pricier than what I would normally pay for a bag, I paid almost no attention at the time to the fact that it came with a lifetime guarantee.

A guarantee for life? Really?

Twenty years later that bag is still in use, albeit a bit scuffed and missing most of it’s zip tags. It’s final challenge came recently when Stepson managed to detach the retractable handle from the chassis of the bag somehow, and I decided that it was no longer usable.

Years ago I would have binned it and bought another, but I hate the idea of continual consumption and remembered the lifetime guarantee. Would it be worth the paper that it was written on?

I rang the number on the website and they arranged to dispatch a courier the next day to collect the bag from my home and take it to their repair centre for refurbishment. Keen to have it back in time to take it to the the island in September, I asked how long it would take, and they promised it will be back with me in time.

No proof of purchase required, no red tape, no cost. A real human on the telephone who was helpful and friendly. An experience that made me feel that this was one of the best investments I ever made…

Thank you Briggs and Riley. You are my tale of good stuff this week.