UFO’s

02/26/2007

Dearest Dottie and I have been back in the classroom for a whole week, studying navigation in Ballachulish, which must be as good a place as any in which to sit my first exam for almost fifty years. I pass with flying colours, not surprising with my Senior Service background, although I suspect that dearest Dottie may have pipped me by a point or two. As with all modern exams you do not get any marks, one is either Good, Average, Fair or poor; one does not want to upset the dumbos after all! Apart from being a bit of a spree, this was all a ploy to stay one step ahead of looming euro legislation to introduce the International Certificate of Competence in boating. The Frogs are pushing for this as being good republicans; they have to have mountains of paperwork to justify the slightest tweak of anything official, although, in honesty, I doubt we will see many Greek or Croatian skippers waving their ICC before trafficking a few pale northern tourists on the salty Ionian or Adriatic for a euro or five.

Each day we had to make an early trip north through Glen Coe. We admired the new bridge at the gorge, which must be opened at any moment, as well as the tenacity of hill walkers, and climbers, who were up and bout even at that early hour. Our evening return proved more interesting as we watched a series of military aircraft fly low over Rannoch More, Hercules dropping parachutes, helicopters and fast jets, all of whom appeared to roll starboard and disappear south through Glen Trollaigh. By mid week the nervous mutts and I were keeping a watchful eye on the dark skies of the glen and our vigilance was rewarded as all the household enjoyed a close encounter with a UFO that drifted with a pale starboard green light up the glen, shadowed by a very twitchy Sea King helicopter, all lights ablaze at zero feet. When the Sea King saw us at the edge of the park, presumably with high tec night vision, both it and the UFO fairly took off at an unusual and extreme angle. It is an honor that aliens have chosen yours truly and the clan to represent normality in Scotland, or at the very least, the North Argyll Glens, a most satisfactory selection.

We have had a week of fair weather and the sun now kisses the Tower of Glen Trollaigh at 10.00 am, garden birds fairly twitter, badgers set about their spring digging and shapely deer hover on the glen floor for fodder and shelter, all is well in the glen and it not difficult to push aside paperwork and phone calls, to drink in the beauty of this special place unsurprisingly now on the “must see” list of little green men from Mars! Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.