Two minutes! Two minutes it took to get a fucking good soaking as I crossed the border between England and Middle Earth! I stopped at Gretna services (just to taste the local tea) and within seconds I had some fried stuff in my hands and a melancholic look of despair!! Yup, I’m back in Scotland. (Why did it confuse me when I heard the sweaty sock accent)? Why didn’t it surprise me when I saw rotund kids slurping ice cream in the frikkin rain? AND why was I alarmed when I couldn’t understand the guy in the petrol station and he gave me some Monopoly money for change???
You may recognise this as “Hollybush house” or “Terror Towers” or one of the many pseudonyms it’s been given by various veterans who’ve past through its doors. Within minutes I found myself talking to an old guy about his time in the Sudan (well it could have been anywhere really, I was just sitting nodding at anyone as I had just had the ride from hell) and with my room sorted it was time for a wander around! I found our cohort masterpiece on a bench (it’s supposed to be ON THE WALL. But at least the clocks are still running! I also found a guy from about three miles from where I live, happily painting away. He was happily painting away at a spitfire! (And I thought he was army?)
Well I set off early enough i suppose (unaware of the precocious weather conditions pending my arrival) and the first few miles were disaster free! Mind you the next sixty/ seventy weren’t that clever! The A69 is a bitch of a road anyway, but when the clouds fall to the floor and empty their bowels all over the place it becomes downright treacherous! That, coupled with degenerate drivers (I mean that in the octogenarian way) pulling oversized caravans at twenty miles per hour, then you can guess my mood! Still, could be worse, Combat Stress might have fucked everything up and made my trip a nightm…… Oh! They have! Watch this space!!