Isle of Mull

Journeys of an Englishman travelling foreign climes (well Scotland.)

Today I type from a delayed Scotrail train to Oban. A three hour trip through beautiful scenery. With me are Josie and Ronnie, my parents in law as I chaperone them to Oban and then onto Craignure on the Isle of Mull via Calmac ferry the Isle of Mull. At platform 4 Queen Street, Glasgow the Scotrail people could not connect the two trains together that form the service and we are now over 20 minutes late, with a potential arrival time of 3.54pm into Oban and the ferry 3.55pm. Sat at the very front of the train I can hear it labour as it chases time itself.

I travelled up yesterday from Dukinfield using the very excellent National Express service for Glasgow that calls into Hamilton. Long gone are the lyrical days of the using a service where you could both hide from, and see life.

Take the National Express when your life's in a mess
It'll make you smile
All human life is here
From the feeble old dear to the screaming child
From the student who knows that to have one of those
Would be suicide
To the family man
Manhandling the pram with paternal pride
And everybody sings, "Ba-ba-ba-da"
We're going where the air is free

National Express by the Divine Comedy - Verse 1 - Released 25th January 1999

My life was a mess but is no longer a mess, and I was happy to see both Josie and Ronnie, catch up on sleep in their comfortable house, with today being our journey from Queen Street via train to Oban, Josie deciding and preferring a taxi with a cheerfully pleasant driver. making the station with time to drink lovely coffee (Danish pastry and tart for me) in kaffateria opposite the station. And highly recommended for its coffee.

All fine and we mosied over to the estimated platform 4, which was where I departed from last time I was off to Mull. Now last time there was a problem, and as fate would have it the same problem occurred again. The difference being I was armed with two Scottish pensioners. Very simply the train is made of two parts. And at Crianlarich it splits into a Oban train and a Mallaig train, with the Oban section being the front of the train, normally four carriages, out of Queen Street. Last time they could not connect the train and everyone piled onto the Mallaig train after watching the Oban section sneak out of Queen Street having failed to couple to its mate. Same again, and we watched as our train, our seat reservations, fuck off into the dark tunnel. Sharp walk to other train, looking through windows for those unreserved table seats.

Now I must admit it was better than last time, which was Saturday, hot weather, and a platform knee deep in people, tourists, cyclists. Back then I’d managed to bag a seat opposite a dog named Snoop.

This time though a new train shot in to Queens Street and connected up with the Mallaig section to give a big train, midweek when less busy, and despite no original reservations we did bag a table and seats at the very front of the train. Mind you I did position myself right at the front of the train by the passenger door. Seat table sorted, bags stowed I wandered down the carriages checking on some unfortunate elderly ladies who were on a three week painting holiday taking in the Inner and Outer Hebrides, and like us armed with bags had been caught short on the platform; where we had spoken earlier. All three were good and I returned to the seat to type this post, eat some M&S crisps from a meal deal, and relax at the view, as were Ronnie and Josie.

Shame there is no Trolly Dolly as I could murder a coffee, but laugh inside at some more Divine Comedy lyrics that I remember from the old days of the National Express.

On the National Express there's a jolly hostess
Selling crisps and tea
She'll provide you with drinks and theatrical winks
For a sky-high fee
Mini-skirts were in style when she danced down the aisle
Back in '63 (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
But it's hard to get by when your arse is the size
Of a small country
And everybody sings, "Ba-ba-ba-da"
We're going where the air is free
Tomorrow belongs to me

Verse 2.

Addendum:

As I proof read this I see the Trolly Dolly heading our way. Life is good.

Jealous, but not really....

I am jealous, but not really. In fact excited. So what’s this all about a cow (coo in Scotland.)

A coo.

The Wifey, She who must be Obeyed, The Boss, Teach, Run for the Hills, Mrs Cobley, Mrs C, Yeah Baby, and a variety of other names went out for a walk last night after school. Above Tobermory is a track into the countryside where there is a radio mast. She drove up there, parked, and walked, and what photos she sent, what photos.

I was jealous because I was not there with Claire, who I miss a lot, whilst bathed in miserable weather in Dukinfield, and suffering from this infernal cold and cough. But after a great sleep having taken a Lemsip I feel more sprightly this morning and have not hacked a cough out and fingers crossed. So jealously pivoted to excitement at knowing that my new home is not that far away.

This last photo really sums up living on Mull and Claire must have been very near Ardmore Bay to the north of Tobermory looking across the sea to Ardnamurchan Peninsular on the mainland. Just stunning, with plenty of hills (Munros) to explore.

Today is a mixed one with two hours volunteering over lunchtime with OCD Action as I help facilitate a general OCD support group. Then after that I’m working on myself with some CBT for my own OCD via Silvercloud, and will soon also receive some one to one sessions via Oldham Talking Therapies, for which I am grateful. And I am certainly grateful for the NHS and always have been for what it does and continues to do. So it is with sadness that I see it creak and groan to the extent that it does with such damage riven through it by the failed private policies of the Conservatives. I am not saying Labour will have the solutions, but we can only hope.

And I will be one of the lucky ones who has been able to pay for private health needs, has received work medical insurance, and benefited from NHS services. And will receive just as much and more in a more sparsely populated area and probably better funded service in Argyll and Bute.

Lego at 52 years of age, and I am not ashamed.

So it is with delight I write this post about Lego whilst watching Rio Lobo on the TV in a nice warm house whilst the cold and the wind swirls outside in Dukinfield. (And I think I may have caught a cold.)

I’ve been busy with making the lounge of my temporary accommodation Cobley friendly, and I think I have succeeded to a great extent, with room for improvement. Ho hum. I find Lego building has delighted and soothed me, and my housemates I honestly believe have felt the same.

I am enjoying my time in Dukinfield with ANEW and focusing on my recovery with over 7 months under my belt presently. But I keep it a day at a time and such a simple approach and listening to what I am told has and does make a difference; only took me over 12 years to the despair of myself and others.

Monday sees me work and study to a Level 2 qualification for counselling, and something I wish to follow, whilst running my beloved business found us. I finish the study first week of April and want to get myself onto Level 3 for the September intake, and suspect it will be with learndirect.

The challenge being for Level 3, hence learndirect, being that I will be in Mull by July/August. Claire and I had always wanted to live in Scotland, in the Highlands, not too remote mind you. So she decided to go for and get a role as Biology Teacher at Tobermory High School. Sheesh. There is remote Scotland, and there is a Hebridean island… She started teaching January and is living in rented accommodation with our ultimately buying a property.

I’ve been to Mull and must admit I am looking forward to it despite trepidation as it is a wonderful place and lifestyle in which to live and embrace.

Oh and the Lego is coming with me.