St Davids day; and oddly we are heading for Scotland and the secluded Isle of Mull. Our target is a week of Tumeric enemas and tantric meditation at a retreat run by my great friend Guru Ashkar Heliabugghaa – a wise teacher and keen amateur pornographer.
Part of the above is obviously a complete fib, but one can dream. We are going to Mull, but to a typically overpriced ‘cottage’ by the side of a loch where we will undoubtedly go slightly mental staring through the picture window at the slate-grey drizzle-filled skies.
In preparation for the local conditions we have spent over £967 on waterproof clothing, £745 on thermal underwear and £256 on ‘Highland’ socks. The grossly overpriced ‘cottage’ and the inevitable pillage of Tescos in Oban (they’d better not just have an Aldi) will push the cost of this much-anticipated jaunt into the equivalent of six months in The Maldives. But, we have wanted to do this for years – as Ian Hunter once said – so onward we sail.
At the other end of this trip is a visit to our friends in the extremely charming ‘Borders’ and attending Murrayfield to watch Scotland beat Wales in comfortable seats. This will be a welcome return to civilisation after what could be a challenging week, utterly alone together without a top-class off license or an organic farm shop… and maybe not enough fags.
The quiet seclusion will, I think be wonderous, and I will of course report in full to my huge readership.
I’m going to be ever-so slightly peeved if I don’t see any of the following:
* A huge Golden Eagle swooping majestically and taking a small child in its talons.
* Sea Otters building their dam out of discarded Lidl bags-for-life.
* Eating at a local crab shed run by two gays from Highgate Village.
* Seeing one of those hairy ginger cows on the beach. It will bring memories of an ex girlfriend.
* Someone called ‘Old Jock’ insensible on Scotch in a Tobermory pub, shouting about killing geese and shitting his pants.
Let’s see what the week brings…
