Tour Coaches Of Spring

03/10/2005

A change is in the air, it is a dull old day, with a poor forecast for the weekend. The breeze starts from the south west, but veers northwards in the middle of the day. The temperature drops as this north wind increases, and eventually, light showers turn to heavier rain as a front sweeps in from the North Atlantic. I head down the road on a flying visit to Oban, within the glen, I collect the usual collection of beer cans, crisp packets, plastic bottles which have been casually tossed out of cars enjoying a cruise in the countryside. On the main road, my passage to Oban is slowed by those harbingers of spring, Tour Coaches. Our local operator has invested hugely in a fleet of split new behemoths, which I assume accommodate extra passengers, and must be excellent on an autostrada, however, they are really too big for Scottish roads. They lumber along in convoy cutting all the bends and having to stop if anything large is coming the other way. I fear a crop of frustration related accidents in the summer months. In Oban, I have the usual frantic fiddling about trying to find change for parking machines, which for some illogical reason offer 40 minutes parking for 50p. I can only assume that this is an example of the chocolate bar conspiracy where the price remains the same, however the bar becomes smaller and smaller. No time for even a coffee before returning to the grindstone. Lots of paperwork and decisions to be made which means spending the rest of the day in the office, much of the time on the telephone. Mhairi provides an excellent dinner after which I watch Kirsty Wark’s TV documentary about the Scottish Parliament building. Fires on, dram in hand, muttering to myself. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh