A Day Away

01/19/2005

Moving about the Tower of Glen Trollaigh before light, as I have been invited out for lunch and must meet with the Kerrs in the car park of the new half million pound surgery in Dalmally by 8.30. The morning weather is not too bad, still plenty of snow, dry, dull and still, with a temp of about 4 degrees. However we face dire warnings from Heather the Weather about conditions approaching us from the Atlantic. I manage a quick jog round the policies with the pack before setting off, fortified by a plate of Mhairi’s unbeatable porridge. Driven by the Kerrs we sweep into Oban where they have several appointments, but we are to meet at the Eeusk for lunch. I must say that Oban is looking it’s worst as I collect a few items of ironmongery and groceries. Normally one cannot park in George Street, to-day its empty, although the glowing figure of a traffic warden in high reflective jacket may have something to do with it, what short-sighted tossers the council are to try and balance their deficit with parking charge income, when it’s as plain as the nose on one’s face that free parking would encourage many more visitors. One must have an incentive to stop in Oban. Every second shop is shut, then it starts to rain. Horror of horrors the Eeusk is shut, swept away on a sea of insurance claims following last week’s storm. However they are to re-open soon, thank God. It’s tricky to find any Eatery in January and we end up at the Tex-Mex on the South Pier. Full marks for trying, but not quite what I was hoping for. We are a large party of friends and family, but much of the conversation is centred on medications and spectacle styles and prescriptions. I prefer a more boisterous atmosphere! Home in poor weather, heavy rain and 90 mph gusts from the west. Lovely to receive a message from Major Hayward asking about some of my family. The major refers to the
Prussian family branch, I should stress a cadet branch,
the Saxburgh-Trollaighs. They dropped the Saxburgh after being mercilessly ragged for three generations at Eton (rather than the Eaton referred to by the Major) as “Supermarket Trolleys”. My own alma mater was Trinity College, Glenalmond. In those days, devoid of central heating and long trousers, but rich in bullying and beating. I would recommend this college to any family as it made me the man I am to-day. The very memory makes me reach for the Ardbeg. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.