Our festive season began with
someone at the local radio station singing, instead of ‘Feliz Navidad’,
‘Theleis Danika?” i.e. ‘Would you like a
loan?’. A very apt question at a time when we are all tightening our belts - at
least financially. The season ends on the twelfth day, January 6th,
Epiphany, here known as ‘Ta Fota’ or ‘Theophania’. In Spain on this day they celebrate
the coming of the Magi; here it is when Christ’s baptism is commemorated with
the Blessing of the Waters as the priest throws a cross into the sea and
stalwart divers brave the chilly main to retrieve it. I’m not greatly devout
and wild horses would not get me in there but I would feel a great deal more
well-disposed towards the ecclesiastical set if they paid tax on the vast
swathes of property they own and if the Church rather than the state were to
foot the salary bill for the clergy.
2013 has arrived and, in the words of Billy
Connolly, that great Scottish comic, actor and banjo-basher, ‘So here we are –
where are we?’. Our politicians lurch from one crisis to another- the Lagarde
list being the latest one – while we seemed to lurch from one groaning table to
another. But I should draw the obvious contrasts: we are aware of the damage we
have wreaked on our constitutions (don’t you just love that pun?!), take full
responsibility for our actions and have made resolutions to take measures to
improve things. To continue the gastronomic metaphor: our politicians really do
take, apart from other things, the proverbial biscuit. Tomorrow will certainly
see me back working out at the spa!
If Billy’s question had been in
the past tense, my response would be that we left off having a wee break at
Glasgow Green. So now we begin the Highland Haj proper, episode 1. There were a
few baited-breath moments when we heard that due to landslides after heavy rain
the road was blocked at the Rest and Be Thankful stretch –the well-named steep
climb out of Glen Croe. Sure enough, mounds of shale and scree were in evidence
and single-lane traffic was in operation while clearing work continued. We
reached there just as the south-bound convoy’s turn came so thankful, indeed,
we were! It is impossible for our family to descend towards the banks of the
beautiful Loch Fyne without bursting into Highland airs – Westering Home and
The Hiking Song being firm favourites. Both of these, incidentally, can be
heard on YouTube- and finer versions than we could ever muster! We cross
Inverary Bridge and view the castle, seat of the Clan Campbell, with flag on
staff indicating the family is in residence.
Those of you who follow the magnificent ‘Downton
Abbey’ will have seen the Christmas edition in the third series. Members of the
Crawley family are seen to attend the Ghillies’ Ball at Duneagle Castle, but in
reality they were filming at the Duke of Argyll’s seat, Inverary Castle! And
isn’t Maggie Smith just superb? Nearing eighty, this grand dame of stage and
screen seems able to express fifty shades of indignation with an arch of the
eyebrow! I adore her and her magnificent put-down one-liners. This year’s broadcasting of the series has
proved very popular here in Greece.
But I digress! We reach Tarbert,
Lochfyne- a place my heart can ache for and always leaps at the initial
sighting of it every trip I make. We used to enjoy a panoramic view of this
beautiful fishing village from the crest of the hill, but the area is now
disappointingly overgrown and visually impenetrable. Our entire family
descended here in August, renting accommodation which was not only splendidly
equipped and very comfortable, but afforded a beautiful view of the church and
bay. Tarbert was to be our base but the focus of our Haj, our Mac Mecca, was
Kilberry, on the Knapdale peninsula, part of the ancient kingdom of Dalriada.
We head out along the single-track road and en
route spy a grazing herd of roe deer- raising fond memories of Bambi, a baby
buck we reared, feeding him initially from a fountain-pen ink tubing!
We pass Lergnahension, or Lergie, which used
to belong to our grandfather, Hugh Scott. Our mum used to work there during the
day as a farmhand tending their livestock and at night as a barmaid at their
inn. She never forgot that experience – especially seeing someone so drunk he
vomited while standing bolt upright – a 10-point erect eruption! I guess that
was why she used to welcome Hogmanay ‘first-footers’ with the same wee sherry
schooner and about two rounds of shortbread ‘to take the taste away’!
We stop off at the Old Manse where we lived as
kids while our father was alive and running the hiring and contracting
business; we lived in the downstairs part of the manse while the deconsecrated
church served as the garage for his vehicles. In the foreground you can still see
the palm tree that was said to have been brought back years ago from the Holy
Land by the then clerical incumbent.
Another stop-over is Kilberry
Castle, residence of the local Campbell family. I have memories of us as
children walking from the village school
to sing Christmas carols to Miss Marion
Campbell ( full titles were always used !) and her companion, Miss Sandeman, of
the family associated with port wine. Holiday accommodation is now available at
the neighbouring cottage. I’d love to know whether such tenants have had
sightings of the ghostly grey lady I once thought I saw in the area. This shot
of the castle in the gloaming looks quite Gothic and spooky.
Again I digress-back to ‘oor tale’ : we get to
Kilberry, ‘my village’ as the Greeks would say. In fact, when I first took my
husband there, he decided it would be grandiose to classify it thus, calling it
instead an area with scattered houses- rather like the prevalent scattered rain-showers.
Devoid of actual church building and square, this does not taxonomically fit
the Greek bill - or perhaps that is an unfortunate phrase to employ! In the
1960’s, Mum renovated what was croft accommodation and outhouses which became
our home with the adjoining post-office where she served as post-mistress until
she sold the house to return to her home area of Tighnabruaich. This has now
become the award-winning Kilberry Inn – and what better place for our family to
converge on to celebrate my sister’s Big Birthday Bash. As you can see, my
brother managed to squeeze in a wee birthday celebration as well!
Here is the merry band of family and friends,
flanking Iain Campbell, the doughty Pipe-Major who welcomed us on the Kilberry
Inn forecourt- well, the main road, really!By the way, he was the piper who played in the Scottish episode of Downton Abbey. It’s the
mark of his piping prowess and the wonderful champagne and canapés served
outside (especially the savoury mini-scones!) that we noticed not the
descending dampness, drizzle, smirr, smur, Scots mist, call it what you will,
but it did keep the midges at bay!
The Kilberry Inn is a well-known,
award- winning restaurant – having earned the Michelin Bib Gourmand and nominated
Scottish restaurant of the year in 2009. Suffice it to say that on our way
round to Kilberry we passed a Rolls Royce and a Daimler, carrying Kilberry Inn clientele. The Greek Tourist Board needs to take a leaf
from their menu-folder. Clare Johnson, the chef, using fresh local produce with
expertise and imagination, has enticed high-end tourism from far and near. With
equally good local produce just imagine what more remote Greek villages could
achieve when you factor in their almost guaranteed sunshine!
David Wilson and his staff offered
excellent front-of-house service and helped us have a memorable evening. It’s
not many people who can claim as I can, to have eaten gourmet food, prepared by
an award-winning chef, in what used to be their bedroom!
It’s time to bring Highland Haj,
episode 1 to a close and what better way than for us both to wish you all health
and happiness throughout 2013?
Slainte
and Yia sas!
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