Farmer gave us a muddy welcome to Scotland

WELCOME to Scotland, the sign said.

Rain was falling as we crossed the border on the M6.

We were on our way to Ireland, which is a long way in a car. And that’s just in mainland Britain.

The reason being I am a lousy sailor and always opt for the shortest sea crossing, which is from Cairnryan in Scotland to Belfast.

So I took the sensible decision to book a motel in Gretna Green to break the journey.

If it had been left to me, I would have done the whole mainland trip in the middle of the night to catch the 4am ferry, like I did previously, but my daughter in Ireland was aghast. “What? At your age?”

Which made me consider doing it with the car in reverse whilst wearing a blindfold just to show her. Instead, I opted for the Days Inn at Gretna Green service area on the motorway.

As usual, the worst part of the journey was on the M62 towards Manchester. When will that traffic jam ever end?

After that, it was plain sailing. Or driving. The motel was convenient, spotless and a bargain at £50. And the next morning the service area allowed us to sample a full English breakfast in Scotland at Harry Ramsden’s. The legendary fish and chip franchise from Guiseley now does an excellent fry-up.

Thus fortified, we left the border town, famous as the destination of young lovers in search of wedlock, and set off for the two-hour drive to the port through delightful sun-dappled countryside. Even the weather was welcoming us to Scotland.

Progress was swift without being hurried and the vista of a loch of blue water opened up on the left.

Perhaps my daughter had been right to suggest different sailing arrangements. Caledonia was putting on a great show for us in the sunshine.

The farmer on a very dirty tractor came from nowhere. Perhaps it was Celtic magic? Speed dropped but we were in no rush.

We gathered a small convoy behind us. He indicated he was pulling over and I moved closer to overtake when he did something with his brakes.

Mud and silage spurted in a creative arc to artistically speckle my car and windscreen. He grinned and waved as we passed. Farmers are the same the world over.

Welcome to Scotland, he seemed to say.