Fine, I'm a size queen. I admit it.
A debate as old as time: does size matter? Of course, what you do with it is also important. But I would argue, yes. Longer the better. When it comes to pleasure, nothing beats a three-day weekend.
Wait, wait, wait. Why? What were you thinking? Honestly! Thinking such things whilst enjoying a nice cup of Earl Grey from my Royal Doulton, with the hand-painted periwinkles. Such thoughts are not befitting of an upmarket household like mine (who am I kidding, I’ve just wiped some of Logie’s drool of the floor, and oh my days, I wish my mop hadn’t taken early retirement).
Anyway, enough of that. It must be the early March sunshine making us all roguishly chipper. But as I witter on from my dining table, I’m basking in the early morning sunshine (the sunrises are special right now), with the birds singing away and the boys snoring and it’s utter bliss. Nothing beats a weekend, especially these bulging three-dayers.
Where it all began
So, what did we get up to? I’ve talked about this many times on here and over on Instagram, but for me, Glencoe will always remain the place where my heart was stolen. Growing up we always holidayed in the UK, and I have such fond memories of all the places we visited: Scarborough, Whitby, Bridlington, Cornwall and the Lake District. Each place, full of its own character, fills me with joy when I revisit. But I will never forget the first time we visited Scotland. I had never seen a landscape like it. We stayed in a cabin in Glencoe, with a veranda looking out over the Three Sisters, and sitting there, taking in the rugged majesty, feeling sleepy from the fresh, clean air, I don’t think I’d ever felt so calm. It was actually the only time I’d ever sit still enough to read, and I remember always getting through books whilst staying there. This is where my love affair with the West Coast began, and why it feels so much like home now.
Fast forward many years, and in 2019, blissfully unaware of the travel implications that were to follow in the coming years, we decided to not go abroad, but I wanted to bring Paul to Scotland. He’d only ever seen urban Scotland, and I really wanted to get back to the wild west and show him quite how magnificent it is. So we got a wee cottage in Arrochar (well, Succoth more precisely, which lends itself very nicely to many smutty jokes should your mind also reside in the gutter) at the foot of The Cobbler (which can also lend itself to some naughty badinage if one is so inclined). Anyway, to cut a long and rambling story very short, we both fell in love and decided there and then we would retire to Scotland.
Of course, over the coming years the world threw at us things we would never have imaged conceivable. And after three lockdowns (being in a higher tier for the latter) we decided to escape once again to beautiful Scotland as soon as we could, and stayed, once again in Argyll. This trip in late 2021 was intended as the first of at least five years’ of travel to different parts of the country to get a feel for Scotland and where we could eventually see us taking retirement. Whilst playing a game of Uno and drinking a box of wine (we’re very much about quantity, not quality) we decided to have a look on Rightmove. We found a farmhouse that was perfect. Rural, nestled within acres of its own grounds. A floorplan that would lend itself perfectly to blocking up a door and creating an adjoining holiday let. It had been on the market some time. After returning home, we both kept taking a look at this farmhouse. In the end, after a few different conversations with friends, we came to the decision that life’s too blinking short. Why wait to move to Scotland, when we think we could make it work now? Fast forward to February 2022 and the mortgage advisor had been given the green light, the estate agent was taking pictures and we were bracing ourselves for an adventure we thought would only ever be a conversation fuelled by cheap plonk.
As soon as our house went onto Rightmove, I contacted the estate agent selling the farmhouse that had been languishing on their books for about 18-months. Guess what? Yes, of course. An offer had been accepted that morning. Nonetheless, we pushed on. And now, we find ourselves less that an hour’s drive from Glencoe, the place where it all began. I will write another blog soon about ‘the ones that got away’, as there were a few that we just weren’t brave enough to take on. And whilst I don’t regret not pursuing them, I do still often think about them, and what their new custodians are doing with them.
So, with the sun shining, and the tourist season not yet in full flow, we decided to use our impromptu Friday off to go for a long walk and fill up our happy cups. Wandering through the trees, without coats(!) taking in the scenery is good for the soul. The boys absolutely loved exploring. Tripling our daily step tally, meant the boys were out for the count when we got them home.
Phwoar, nice legs
I have been trying to avoid antique shops and reclamation yards, as we spend a few weekends earlier in the year trawling them all (a perfect way to spend a weekend) but it also means you find yourself racking up quite the bill if you have the lowly self-restraint I’ve been cursed with. However, as we headed to our favourite spot for a browse of a farmer’s market, a long walk along the canal and a coffee at our lovely friends’ pop-up coffee spot (@pollyscoffee) we visited a wee antique shop we’d not realised existed. I was doing so well, until Paul spotted a little coffee table with “nice legs that I couldn’t resist” – his words, lucky table. At £12, I had to agree. Of course, we don’t need another coffee table, but that’s besides the point. So, with the sun shining and a day in the garden planned, I’ll also be taking short breaks to give it a lick of paint, so it really fits into its new home at Keepers.
On the topic of homewares, my new dishrack arrived. I have been coveting this dishrack for some time, as you do when you’re a man in your late 30s, it seems. With Highlands and Islands delivery charges adding a whopping £19 to the price, I decided to make peace with the fact that it wouldn’t ever be mine. Then, behold, a free UK-wide delivery offer popped it. ‘Argh, feck it’ I said to myself. I’ll treat myself. Alas, I didn’t factor in the height and the clash with the kitchen cupboards. The dilemma I am now faced with is: do I send back my beautiful dishrack and get my money back or do I get a new kitchen to accommodate it?
I’ll have a think. But in the meantime, I must get out in the garden. This allotment won’t prepare itself.
Happy Sunday friends xx
I need to see this dish rack!!
I love that table! I always think things are meant to be. (Although I don't always believe it myself). Keepers is meant to have Gareth and Paul. Hearing you chat you can see the interiors and feel it, it is you. Funny we were with friends on Sunday and chatting about a holiday we spent together in your part of Scotland. I said I could have stayed there forever. No wonder Scotland has been voted one of the world's most beautiful countries. Keep the rack you'll always regret sending it back.......and eeerm speaking from memory size does matter.