random bits

on Lewis I took the bus one day out to see various sights like Callanish and the blackhouses at Garenin and the broch at Dun Carloway. Sitting with an hour to kill in a very rural bus stop - I wasn't even sure the bus was going to pass by there, just living off hope really - a woman and her little boy wandered by.
"Hello hello!!" the boy shouted at me...I had passed them earlier and he had given me a dried up seedy flower so we were now on quite intimate terms. He ran into the shelter and jumped on my lap while I chatted to his mum. Boring boring for little boys so to get our attention he ran around the sides of the shelter, licking the windows. I didn't find out till later that "windowlicker" is a really really rude thing to say to someone in Scotland, so it'a a good thing I didn't say "Your son is a real windowlicker!" to this poor woman.
He wanted me to come home with them but when I said I had to wait for the bus he settled for making piles of earthworms on my shoes. After a few minutes a car pulled up, it was a woman who knew the woman I was talking to. A few minutes more and I had somehow been offered a ride back into Stornoway with this new woman and her very amusing boy, Alex aged 4. Alex didn't have any worms but we got along just fine anyway.

After the Callanish debacle I went down to Tarbert on the Isle of Harris (which is actually connected to the Isle of Lewis...shh...don't tell anyone, I'm not sure they know). If Harris sounds familiar to you, think tweed...Harris Tweed. Given my unholy lust for all things tweed it's quite lucky I managed to get away from there without buying a whole new outfit. However the stylings on offer in the shops ran more toward the Stout Matron side of the spectrum, while I was looking for Naughty Librarian clothes. I do however have a small new tweed wallet which I fondle with great happiness.

From Harris to Skye, two days in Portree which seem to have been completely uneventful because I can't remember anything about them. Then a day in Kyleakin and Kyle of Lochalsh, where I spent the evening trapped in conversation (only one small lounge and an Italian couple getting it on in my dorm) with the lamest Australian I have ever met. A homophobic jackass who looked like Benny Hill, he put that idiot Said to shame (see Said's story here). Within 45 minutes: "have you ever kissed a girl?" "have you ever had sex in a hostel?".
I even told him the Said story laced with all of the sarcasm and irony I could muster but he wasn't getting it. Poor stupid fool.

Next morning a bus to Inverness with the intention of going out to Speyside to check out the distilleries, however by the time I got there it was really too late, and there was no accommodation east of Inverness anyway. Snap decision time - get on the next train south and get the hell out of Scotland.
It wasn't till a couple days later that I slapped myself on the forehead...dammit! I went to Scotland and forgot to eat Haggis!? Even after I've been told that vegetarian Haggis is really really good? Grrrr. Add the fact that I didn't eat a deep fried Mars bar either. I am ashamed of myself. At least I drank a little scotch.

So I ended up in Penrith at the edge of the Lake District, in the fleabaggiest hotel room above a bar. At least there was a tv. And the shower was hot.

Then to Windermere and Ambleside in the midst of the best weather I've seen in weeks, clear and sunny and actually HOT. The scenery is spectacular as well, or at least it would be if the place weren't lousy with tourists (yeah I know I am one of them). Tourists tourists every where, roads filled with cars, lakesides covered with shops and marinas. The hostel in Ambleside was great though, a huge old place with giant lounge and dining room, and the nicest Melmac plates I have ever seen.

Today I arrived in Manchester where I met up with Joey from Valencia who is working here now. Tonight is going to be good.