A Highland fling. Satisfying my inner Scot

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I needed to disappear for a few days. Appleby horse fair week doesn’t lend itself to being a great idea for making pizzas in Eden Valley. Last year I scarpered off to Geneve and Grenoble. This time it was Scotland. I need scant excuse to go to the Highlands and it always involves a trip to stay with Tim and Lisa. They are no longer friends of mine anymore, despite having known Tim since our bike racing days, when I lived in Fife, 24 years ago! No, they are family now,  I’m their family too. That’s how strong the bond feels

It never feels like I’m imposing and their 3 sons whom Ive watched growing up since babies, all welcome me too. So then, what does a pizza chef and former builder dude do,when he’s relaxing, you may ponder? That’s easy, silly. He visits his pal with two pizzerias, helps out making pizzas and prepping when the Aviemore branch is busy then gives his pal a hand with some timber framing for a building he’s making,  That’s what.

They are moving out if their rented home in a few weeks so I’ll have a brand new metaphorical sofa for me to crash on next time,  The final hours of my last stay there ended in comical fashion. Leon, their 14 year old youngest son, had just took delivery of a new football. I suggested a kick about on the AstroTurf in Tomatin.  Tim and Me Vs Leon and 16 year old Zak. Two fit, fast teenagers against two 40something out of shape old gits, one of whom doesn’t play football. Ever. And me, still nursing an Achilles injury from seven days ago. What could possibly go wrong?

Inside 3 mins the Achilles really pulled, leaving me to a pathetic jog-limp. Well, you can guess the outcome eh?

Fat bastards 4. Skinny youths 1.  A fine goal from Tim and a neat wee hat trick tucked away from me. Could have been more had they not closed up at 10pm. We then did one final showing of the Sacha Baron Cohen film – Grimsby. We have watched this together multiple times now, and yet we all still cried with laughing.

Saying my fond farewells, I then went on the stunning drive over The Lecht, with it’s ageing old ski machinery to see my actual family in Banchory. My Uncle Howard , my dad’s brother’s and the man responsible for getting me into cycling.

Whilst my family is relatively small on my dad’s side, up in Scotland, it’s big. There was a large gathering for my cousin, Denise’s daughters 30th birthday. Her son now has a baby, making my cousin a granny and my own relation to the baby girl – second cousin, once removed. What the hell does that even mean?? Once removed what? And if she gets removed, will she return? What if there’s a mistake on the first removal and there’s a rearranged fixture needed. Does it go into extra time and penalties or will she become twice removed?

Later that evening, a rare event happened. My Auntie Pat, still as broad South Shields sounding as ever despite having spent 30 plus years north of the border, myself and Uncle Howard sat chatting two hours with the TV switched OFF. I haven’t watched TV in 8 years now. It provides no value to my life. I HAVE a TV and occasionally stream the football, watch a film or dvd. But I’m lucky if it’s used once a week.

Could you do an evening of no TV? How about a full day or a week even?  Give it a go. Or maybe just watch Grimsby and fall off the sofa laughing. Sadly, the Match of the Day cameras failed to show up for the footy game of the year. Forget the Euros. You had to be there in Tomatin

Micky. Out.

Written by doc cotton

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Lotsa Pizza and Lotsa more Walking!