Talking about Zen. Superhost Vicky accepted my candidature for the room in the cottage in Croftamie.
Nice innit? What u can’t see on the picture are the thick clouds of giants mosquitoes buzzing over the water, getting prepped up for tonight’s carnage. I know they’re going to come after me. It won’t take long before one of’em flies to my car, notices the genocide I committed (the front hood of my silver car is actually brown red for all the blood it collected smashing billions of mosquitoes), flies back to the hordes and snitches.
Time to leave the deck and head to the room.
In French we say “tu peux pas avoir le beurre et l’argent du beurre".
Later, I went out for diner at THE local pub 3 miles away. Literally. Still infatuated with the Big North, its salmons & crabs, I picked the seafood salad. It came with grated cheese. Enough said. I am nearing the end of the (broken) story.
One more day in Scotland.
PS: It involves a bloody stream, a druid, an owl, a curse, a local, a Vietnamese restaurant in Glasgow, traffic jams, Waze, A66, 9 holes, and a party...