Friday, August 03, 2007

Coire-Fhionn Lochan



On this, my last full day on the island, and with the weather declining with each day, Jean our "house-mother" planned an outing to a high loch on the western side of Arran. Although her mother was Arran-born, Jean came from Fleetwood, just up the coast from Blackpool. At her school, students sang that they came from L-A-N-C-A-S-H-I-R-E-by-gum!

(For Ross);

While the kids were being wrangled from pyjamas to day clothes, a few of us visited the local scent, cheese and leather merchants on the edge of Brodick. On our return, the wrangling didn't seem to far advanced but Jean was optimistic. "Wasn't Columbus half-way back at this point in time?" I asked cheekily. Jean turned the other cheek and then suggested I carry up a bunch of provisions for the children in my Bach-pack (a souvenir from St Thomas church in Liepzig).


First arrival
The ascent took well over an hour. Bondi and I led, with young Ben at my heels, and the last of the contingent staggering in about a half hour behind us. By that time, Bondi had already waded out for a drink/swim and then came onto the granite-rock "sands" to suggest that each of the two dozen human trekkers should offer him a portion of their lunch.




Polished off Jonathan Ames' "Wake Up Sir!", an uneven Wodehouse-hommage. I'll stick to Frasier re-runs.

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