Holidays Approach.

12/08/2005

For the first time in many weeks, I enjoy a trip into Oban with a list of a hundred tasks from sourcing butterflies for dearest Dottie’s earrings, to socket sets, chainsaw chains and the hardest of all tracking down a man with a sand blaster. These fellows no longer advertise for fear of harassment from SEPA (The Scottish Environmental Protection Agency), because by its nature sand blasting contravenes a million European Directives. Eventually, after much wheedling, I have found the very man although there will still be a lot of trust building before “David” will fire up his equipment. At this time of year suppliers fall into two categories, firstly the majority who suck their teeth and advise that nothing can be done before “The Holidays”, secondly those whom one would never engage, who approach in the Tesco car park with a sycophantic grin in the wild expectation of a Christmas bottle. All of these chaps are misogynistic Argyll Men and take the end of the year seriously, although how many of them differentiate Christmas and New Year from any other weekend is a mystery to me, and I have one tale to illustrate the point.

For a period of a few years, the North Argyll glens where home to a Finnish lady of a certain age and glamour, whom I regret to say has sensibly returned to the land of her fathers. She arrived in mid-winter expectations of a clear, clean wilderness high, but grasp of the English language and Scottish culture low. On New Year’s Day, she telephoned her Inveraray plumber, to whom she had paid much of wonga, to advise him that her water supply had failed. During that brief conversation, the dear lady learned much about Argyll Man, and a good few new English expressions. She also learned over the following ten days how to survive with water from the burn and a sound galvy bucket. On reflection the greatest lesson was that one must know the intimate support mechanisms of one’s dwelling inside out, for Argyll Man can never be relied upon.

Needless to say, that although my Oban trip was fruitful, and I enjoyed the excellent Crab Spring Rolls and Fillet of Plaice washed down with a glass of two of Chenin Blanc at The Waterfront, several of my suppliers failed to come up to snuff, so a return trip is required next week. I am no longer surprised by the need for the double journey, or indeed the many phone calls and even more journeys that follow. I had a great day for it. Yours aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.