We touched down in Durham briefly, just enough time to catch up with family and to meet Moya from Santa Barbara for a quick Swan and Cygnet lunch.
Then… ahhhhh…off to Scotland - first stop: Glasgow. We were staying at a hotel right in the centre, young, buzzy and a triumph of design over space. I was delighted to see they stock Island Bakery biscuits made on Mull – scrumptious! Met up with Fred and Derek and had that visit to the Burrell Collection I’ve been promising myself for years. Incredible that one person was able to amass such a vast, global collection in his lifetime. The setting in the Pollock Country Park is spectacular, made even more so by the friendly resident Highland coos!
We had a grand time in Glasgow – awash with kilts for the Scottish/Czech Republic International that day. At the wedding we were piped down from the church to the hotel reception- absolutely grand stuff! Turned a little Kintyre-sick and emotionally incontinent as the piper skirled away with ‘Campbeltown Loch’. Another form of incontinence struck us down while we were in Inverness as a virus wreaked havoc with our innards. We thought it was down to a bad kurma on our last night there – but it turned out it was our karma that was bad, instead! Anne drove us all the way round the renowned Loch Ness (Nessie, the local monster, was too modest to make an appearance) but we spent time fascinated, watching the locks operate on the Caledonian Canal, as boats moved on through to Loch Oich, Loch Lochy and Loch Linnhe to the west coast.
Then it was time to head south to prepare for Jen and Mark’s wedding in Harrogate. The wedding itself was a cosy registry office affair. Unexpectedly, I was called to present a reading which I just about carried off, what with croaky voice and a lump in my throat on realizing the text was Robert Burn’s “My luve is like a red, red rose”! The reception was a great get-together, even though the viral effects did not allow us to fully do justice to the buffet with lots of starters, (my mind’s eye still dwells longingly on the mounds of pork pies and tablet) before the lavish grill and salad spread. All the couple’s friends had played a significant part in the event : from organising children’s gift bags, putting up bunting, setting tables, the lot. My brother, resplendent in tartan waistcoat, executed a fine father-of-the-bride speech, formalities over it was time to party. Three of the Arctic Monkeys were among the guests – the bride introduced me to them as a ‘wayward aunt’! - and they did us proud by ‘ jammin’ ’ later on. Everyone up bopping : John Legbelos – eat your heart out!! 
The next day we visited Diana and Ian on their Yorkshire farm, then, having admired their fine farmstead, her great art work and impressive veggie patch, we made a quick departure as storms were apparently blowing in to the west from Stateside.
It wasn’t quite time to get back to old clothes and porridge yet: some nice dinners to go, a visit to Durham to relish her green finery , then time to fill Apollo for our departure.
During our entire, happy holiday we had been blissfully cut off from media reports on the ‘The Greek Situation’, so we knew not what lay ahead. All I know was that when we landed at Macedonia airport, and I felt that balmy late-summer-evening air embrace my skin, I had a wonderful sense of home-coming, exactly as I had had when I first set foot on Greek soil many, many moons ago.
