Farewell to Scotland
her daughter and her husband in a onebedroomed upstairs flat. Even though both my friend and I came from modest homes, it was a real eye-opener to us.
What a different way of life, with the only bit of colour a small flowering pot plant on the windowsill. However, the family could not have been more hospitable and plied us with cups of tea and food.
They, of course, wanted to hear all about New Zealand and their relations who’d migrated there when our family friend was 3 years old.
I kept in touch with this delightful family for many years. We had arrived as strangers and left as friends. Sadly by the time I revisited Glasgow they had all died.
The next day, we visited the university library and a local museum before checking at Thomas Cook once more for mail. And joy of joy, my money had finally come through. It wasn’t a big amount but at least I could repay my friend the little
I’d borrowed from her and have enough to keep me, not in the manner I’d like to become accustomed to, but at least to give me a bit of security.
Our last night in Scotland was spent back in Edinburgh. Now that I had money in my pocket, I bought myself a length of tweed, enough to make a mini skirt which became a much-admired part of my wardrobe.
I felt sad when I finally discarded it a few years ago, although it had been a long time since I’d worn it.
The YHA we stayed in provided a very welcome hot shower so, after a good scrub and hair washing session, I felt almost human again. This was luxury after quick washes in garages or public toilets, as frequently happened to us budget travellers.
Our first stop once we were back on the mainland was at Eilean Donan Castle. It was originally built in the 13th century and for a long time was the home of Clan Mckenzie until it was destroyed in the 18th century by the Macraes. A destructive lot the Scots were. Luckily the castle was rebuilt. This muchphotographed monument, set on a tidal island at the conjunction of three lochs, made it picture perfect and we were charmed by it and its surroundings. After driving through valleys besides lochs and streams, we came to a picnic spot where we parked up for the night. It was far from the first time we’d resorted to a night in the back of our small van With the two of us, one being tall (not me), it was a squash but free accommodation was a help for our dwindling budget. The next morning, after a night of pouring rain, we packed up in the wet – that is packed the gear we’d stowed under our minivan, Min, to make room for us to stretch out as much as the cramped space allowed. We rejoiced when Min started at first go, but she conked out a few miles down the road. Like us she was fed up with the rain. Luckily a kind local came to our rescue so off we went again. We travelled through intermittent showers with fine spells to cheer us up. From Fort William, we caught a glimpse of Ben Nevis partly obscured by thick cloud. As we continued, we were buffeted by high winds and torrential rain. Luckily, Min had stopped sulking and we drove on through rugged Glencoe to the desolate Rannoch Moor with its austere beauty. Further on, we arrived at Inveraray, one of the prettiest Scottish towns we’d seen. Evidently most of the buildings had been restored in the 1950s and early 1960s, including adding bathrooms to many homes. This seemed incredible to us Kiwis, who took these amenities as standard. Besides the setting on Loch Fyne, the uniformly whitewashed masonry and black facings on buildings were a feature of this charming town. As we drove away we caught glimpses of Inveraray Castle. It had been home to the Duke of Argyll, of Clan Campbell, for many years. We chugged up the hill as far as Rest And Be Thankful with its expansive views. The viewpoint was named by the soldiers who had built the military road in the mid18th century. Then we wound down the other side and on to Loch Lomond. By the time we reached our destination the weather had cleared and the evening sky was tinged with pink. We were pleased to find a free camping ground on the water’s edge, but no sooner had we got ourselves ready for another night in Min than a man came along collecting money – all of one shilling for the night’s accommodation. I wonder if he was an official or just an opportunist. It wouldn’t have made him rich. Our next stop was Glasgow and what a lot of dingy buildings there were. Twentyfive years later, when I revisited the city, it had been spruced up and the golden sandstone buildings were stunning. It is now a very attractive city to visit, but not in 1965 in our view. Then much to my dismay when I collected mail from Thomas Cook, a common part of its service, still no money from the AA had arrived. To cheer ourselves up we did what travelling Kiwis did in those days, we called on relations of family friends. It was the first time we’d been in a private home for many weeks and though we were complete strangers we were welcomed like long-lost friends. The 92-year-old in her bed in the living room got up to greet us. She lived with