The Coach Trip (Part 2)

The hotel is owned by the coach company and set up to cope with oldies. We all go in to eat at certain times according to the bus we came on, and sit in the same seats. The staff are all young and foreign and quite delightful, serving us quickly and efficiently with our meals. They are also trained to spot anomalies. One guy, travelling alone and obviously with chronic illness, didn’t appear for a meal and the staff reported this and the receptionist phoned his room to check on him. Fortunately he was just tired and not hungry. His table was right next to us and he was sitting beside a couple who neither spoke to each other or to him throughout all our meals. I wouldn’t have wanted to join them for such meals either.

The hotel at Loch Tummel

Every day we climbed on our bus, Donnie the driver, head counting us to make sure he had the right number, and more importantly, the right people. One or two wandered on to our bus by mistake and had to be gently pointed in the right direction of their transport.

Donnie’s big bus

Donnie knew every single-track road in the area. It was wicked fun to watch the expressions of the drivers who met our large, far too broad bus for the road, on a bend and had to stop suddenly and squeeze past while we sat aloof and rather smug.

We travelled to various tourist places each day and were ejected from the bus to explore for a few hours. Pitlochry was an interesting stop with the dam and salmon leap close by. However the salmon weren’t leaping, it not being the time of year so we adjourned to the visitor centre set high above the dam and with magnificent views from the cafeteria. There is also an exhibition area explaining how the dam was built and how it works to provide hydroelectric power with interactive models so you can produce your own power or make recalcitrant wooden salmon leap upstream.

Pitlochry Dam

It was raining in Aberfeldy so we nipped into an unusual shop run by an Irish artist, Ryan Hannigan. He has some old printing presses in the shop that he uses to print his own designs. He is also a musician (you can buy his CD or vinyl there too) and he recycles old uniforms and army gear into stylish clothing for sale.

The site of the battle of Culloden meant an early start but well worth it. The story of Bonnie Prince Charlie and his epic attempt to wrest the throne from the English is vividly told in the visitor centre and you can experience the sights and sounds of the terrible fight all around you. Then to the battlefield itself with flags marking where the Jacobites stood against their enemy in a desperate attempt to halt the retreat.

A gravestone at Culloden

After all that blood and guts it was a peaceful afternoon in Aviemore where Sheila met us and took us to her new home and lunch.

It was a quick few days and on the way home, Donnie stopped in Callander to allow us to browse through all the wee artisan craft shops, a perfect way to spend a wet afternoon.

It was an easy experience of a holiday. No hassle, food, accommodation and trips all organised and running smoothly. Even the weather was kind on the whole. We were taken care of and driven about very comfortably. I saw parts of Scotland I’d never visited and others I hadn’t seen for a very long time. 

Rain and Royalty

I received this invitation through the post:

Before Covid struck, Ayr Writers Club (one of the biggest and most successful in Scotland) celebrated its 50th anniversary by nominating Sheila and I (both honorary Life members and Presidents many times over) to attend the Holyrood Garden party.

But it wasn’t to be; Covid meant the garden party was cancelled in previous years and we thought our chance had gone. Until the invitations were delivered.

So Sheila and I dressed up in our posh frocks and fascinators as per instructions from the Palace, checked we had our photo ID and invitation, and set off for Edinburgh. The heavens opened and all the rain we had been hoping for during that long hot spell decided to fall. And it didn’t stop. By the time we had trudged across the grass outside the Palace, queued up to get in and made our way to a marquee for shelter, we were soaked.

Fortunately, hot tea and goodies were on offer. We had been warned to expect tiny cucumber sandwiches but no, there was a magnificent spread of sandwiches, cakes and scones.  We tucked in as did the other 5,998 guests. Everyone was crowded in under the tents to keep out of the lashing rain, occasionally putting up a brolly and dashing over to another marquee. There we all were, dressed in our finery by now pretty damp, as the temperature plummeted and the rain continued to fall. 

The royal party weren’t due to arrive till 4.30 so we tried to keep warm by going for wee walks around the central area. We were just standing, wondering what to do next, when one of the Royal Company of Archers approached us to ask how we were doing and what we were representing. Being a bit of a double act, we told him all about Ayr Writers Club and what we wrote, so out came his notebook and he jotted down our names and other details.

‘Wait there!’ he ordered. ‘Don’t move!” And off he dashed.

A few moments  later, he was back to arrange us into a rough line and instructions to give a bob when royalty approached. And there she was, Princess Anne. Much smaller than expected but warmly dressed and carrying a large umbrella.

‘Hello, nice to meet you,’ says I shaking her hand and completely forgetting to bob. We told her about the 50th celebrations of the club and how our invitation had had to be postponed because of Covid. She was very easy to talk to and she said she knew Kilmarnock, where Sheila had lived until recently, as she’d competed in horse trials there. We had quite a long chat before she had to move on to the next couple. We were delighted at being picked to speak to her and celebrated by having another round of tea and cakes, the rain and cold all but forgotten.

By the time the Royals had returned inside the palace, we were even wetter and chilled to the bone, my ivory sling back shoes were sodden and covered in grass and our fascinators had been bent out of shape by the numerous umbrellas swiping at them. 

But we had had a wonderful time and a day to remember. 

The Coach Trip (Part 1)

I’d just finished reading The Coach Trip by Izzy Bromley aka Imogen Clark when a friend asked if I would like to go with her on – a coach trip! Me? A coach trip along with a bunch of oldies? Except – I am an oldie now.

So in the spirit of adventure or at least, trying something different I agreed. It was only four days and we would stay at an hotel and travel around every day and return to it for dinner and bed. So I wouldn’t have to unpack and repack and breakfast and dinner were included. My first mistake was not putting the label supplied on my case. “There’s always one,” moaned Donnie the driver, as we set off on a mini tour of central Scotland picking up other adventurers. Eventually we were all accounted for except for one poor soul that Donnie hadn’t been told about and was left languishing on a pavement until the company sent a taxi to pick him up and chase after us to Perth. We crossed the Forth Road bridge on our way, the three bridges looking glorious from the coach window.

The First Forth Bridge

We didn’t see the best of Perth as the road beside the river was closed so we wandered round the shops, had lunch and dithered until it was time to get back on the bus. Donnie stopped at the Queen’s View overlooking Loch Tummel before heading for the hotel situated on its banks. There is nothing more beautiful than Scotland in the sunshine and no wonder Queen Victoria like it so much. Mind you, it must have been a fair trek by carriage to get there. Or had steam trains reached there by then?

The Queen’s View at Loch Tummel

We settled into our rooms and headed out to grab a seat along the shore of Loch Tummel at the edge of the lawn. We had packed some cocktails and with it being so hot, we had to knock back several before dinner.

And at dinner, we had classic peach melba with tinned peaches! I have a story in my collection, Take a Leaf out of My Book, entitled Peach Melba, about four old dears who escape from a care home and have a meal out with peach melba as dessert. Was I turning into one of them?