THE ROAD LESS TRAVELLED

While Fiona Armstrong entertains the MacGregor’s dream of camping beneath the stars, her definition of life on the road differs somewhat

Fiona Armstrong entertains the idea of life on the road, but will be taking a few creature comforts

‘ By the end of this trip, you will be a free woman…’ Thus the chief assures me as we prepare to hit the high road. As I write we are getting ready to escape for a few days. We are hoping to set off into the sunset. We will trip the light fantastic.

In a campervan...

I blame myself. After all, it was originally my idea. To travel snail-like. Our home on our backs. To wake up and say where shall we go today? Or just to wake up and say, you know what, let’s stay and admire the view a bit longer.

Lockdown put a stop to us going earlier this year. And whether new rules mean we don’t get away this time remains to be seen. In the meantime, great preparations are underway.

Ancient camping kit is unearthed. For the MacGregor, that is. He rather fancies the idea of slumbering en-plein-air and proposes to lie his head on a pillow in a tent, whilst I shall be tucked up nice and cosy inside the van.

Whoever does what on this venture, sleeping bags will most certainly be needed. And where the devil did we put those things?

Then there are the real necessities for a voyage like this. The wine, the whisky, the chocolate – and, crucially, the midge repellent. Because in deference to the situation we are not going to travel far. We are staying in bonnie, gnat-filled Scotland. And because we do not plan to mix with anyone, appearances will be of no consequence. So, there is no need to take decent clothes. Or a hair dryer. Or a mountain of make-up. Well, perhaps just a few hills of the stuff. Some mascara, an eyeline pencil and a powder puff. Just in case, I have to go into a supermarket to top up supplies.

No, far more pressing this time is making sure there is an ample supply of masks and antiseptic hand gel onboard. Then there is the dog food because this is one trip that the MacNaughties can join us on. The Norfolk terrier and the cocker spaniel sense something is in the wind. And they are worried because they do not yet know that they are also included.

Tins of salmon and soup are lined up in the back kitchen. A route map is laid out on the table. Reading matter is downloaded to the Kindle.

The chief is busy testing a new camera lens whilst I am packing warm clothes into a holdall because, wherever we go, you can bet your bottom dollar it is going to be cold. And most probably wet. It will also be dark from seven in the evening to seven in the morning. In fact, I am not sure that October is a good time to be doing this. But then, would there ever be a good time?

This is the woman who likes her hotels four star at the very least, and preferably five. Who must have a nice hot bath in the morning. And is used to cooking on a fancy AGA.

In contrast, the MacGregor thrives soldier-like on discomfort. He likes the simple life. And would only ever eat Pot Noodles if allowed to. So, does this mean that we will fall out? It is highly likely. But here we are .

The rental deposit is paid. The die is cast. And I have to admit to a frisson of excitement. Whatever happens, we will wash our hands and stay distanced and safe. And I hope you are doing the same thing…

It all seems so romantic.

“This is the woman who likes her hotels four star at the very least – preferably five