Friday

MORT said he'd pick us up at 0830 so we all ensure we're ready for nine, this being Mortier time. We're on holiday and deserve a lie-in. The car boot is packed and unpacked a couple of times and the parcel shelf removed so the door finally shuts. It is decidedly cramped in the Fiesta. But we've got a bit of Jimmy Eat World going annoying the neighbours and everyone's in high spirits as we head out of town. Yes we're having a veritable fiesta of our own, har.

The journey north is fast and not actually tiring or boring (we have a fine selection of CDs). We fail to spot the Angel of the North and speculate that it must be on the M1. I and Baylis also take a stint at the wheel to get a feel for the car - Dale also has a driving licence but hasn't driven since he passed his test (about 8 years ago). Glasgow is no fun at all. We spend most of it stuck in traffic jams and idle away the time weighing up the quality of Glaswegian totty which is disappointing and does not live up to the standard set by the lovely Scottish Susan from my Operations Planning level 2 course.

Didn't see it.

After Glasgow we drive along Loch Lommond which is pretty for the first 5 minutes and then seems to go on forever. But Baylis is keeping us entertained by asking, in all seriousness, I kid you not, "Which loch does Nessie come from?" Scottish Highland scenery is magnificent but the roads are full of maniacs who overtake on blind corners at 80mph. Our B&B (along with 50 other B&Bs) is on the shore of Loch Linnhe and we arrive with the late afternoon sun reflecting off the water as the land rises steeply all around. The time is 1805.

We eat at a place which is so popular that it doesn't have enough forks to go round and Dale has haggis. Someone has to and I'm glad it's Dale. Then we go to the Grog & Gruel for some good beer and live music. There is a bongo, banjo and bagpipe band called Flint featuring Billy Connolly on guitar and Mike from the Young Ones on the bagpipes. They play traditional Scottish folk music to polite applause from all the tourists. Then everyone starts getting pissed and dancing with the drunk girl from Telford and it all ends in the wee hours with a rousing rendition of "I will walk 500 miles" by the Proclaimers. There is audience participation on the "der-diddle-uh-ders" and we all leave thinking what a fine evening we've had.

Billy Connolly and Mike from the Young Ones. Yes it was.