Last weekend, we went off camping to the West coast. we had planned to visit Applecross for the music and seafood festival but, by the time we called to book a pitch on their campsite, it was fully booked. Katy was told that they could have filled it twice over with the response they had. It was decided that we would still go away but that we would visit another site we had briefly stayed at two years ago, Clachtoll.
A week or so before we were due to leave, I was having worries about the MOT on the car. I knew it was due in June but could not remember when. I could not find the MOT certificate anywhere. My “where did you last see it” search was hampered by the fact that when I transferred my personalised plate I had obviously sent the wrong MOT to the DVLA. They had stamped it and everything had gone through despite the expiry date being in 2005! How’s that for their efficiency? I definitely had it was when I taxed the car in February. The easiest option was to book the car in as it would need tested sooner or later. The earliest date available was Friday the ninth of June, the very day we were supposed to be leaving. This caused no end of stress with Katy worrying that going away to de-stress was becoming more stressful than staying put.
I had arranged with my father that I would take the car down on the Thursday evening and leave it at the MOT station. I would be lent one of my dad’s cars to take home. He said something about an Octavia. Not bad I thought, a newish Skoda. If the Subaru doesn’t pass then we will have a relatively new, big car to take away with us. My pessimism about getting away subsided a bit.
When I rolled up outside my parents house, my dad scurried past me on his way to get the car. My brother George had been behind me on the road in from Aberdeen and came over to see what I was up to. I seized this opportunity to take him to task about why he had not materialised two weekends before when he and I were supposed to be replacing the flat roof on the house. He told me he had been working hard and was tired. I thought that was a fair excuse, after all, I had been doing fifteen hour days for the last few weeks so I had lots of energy and spare time…….
After a while, we noticed that our father was opening the bonnet on the car he had gone to retrieve some 200 yards away. Just before he had scurried off he had bemoaned that the Volvo sitting off to our left would have been the car I was lent but that it had trouble starting. The skoda on the other hand, “starts no bother, starts first time” He was now under the bonnet as it clearly, had….. not…… started…! George scurried off now to see what the problem was. At a loss for something to do, standing on the street, trying to vary each wave as the same boy racer drove past at one minute intervals. I followed. As I approached the car, a new wave of pessimism grew. The car was a Skoda Favorit ( probably not named favourite or favorit for fear of being sued for mis advertising) A small car which had seen better days but would, at least get me from A to B. That is, if it would actually start. The immobiliser was blamed at first and I got that to work. (the previous owner had been very security conscious and had hung the immobiliser key from the driver’s door) George then asked my father if he had changed the battery. He confirmed that he had done several days previously but that it had started “no bother”. after more head scratching, and the feeling of self consciousness due to the presence of a number of teens hanging about, George went off to get his jump start pack. Upon connection, the little car spluttered back to life and I was able to get home to a, by now, ruined meal from Katy as I had told her I wouldn’t be long. I drove home very fast in the wee Skoda. Or at least that’s what the speedometer would have me believe. By the time I was on the dual carriageway, it was reaching speeds of over 110mph. Strange that the fenceposts were only making the phoot……phoot…..phoot noises when, at that speed (not that I would know) they should be going phoot..phoot..phoot..phoot. This all might have had something to do with the needle on the speedo being bent. For fear of the car not starting at four the next day I resolved to take the jeep.
It had been agreed at work that I only do eight hours on the Friday. Someone else would cover my job in the afternoon so, at just after twelve, my weekend had begun. I thought I would put some fuel into the jeep before returning home to pack, Katy had done most of the packing the previous night so all I needed to sort out was my clothes. I noticed that the filling station outside work was particularly busy so I drove down towards the Sainsbury’s one to save a little time. Within several minutes, I was at a standstill in traffic as, it would appear, quite a few other people’s weekends had started too. My friend Niall phoned asking if I was free to help him move a couple of heavy items in preparation for his daughter’s first birthday party on the Sunday. I told him I would see him in about twenty minutes after I had cleared the traffic and bought fuel. As I was nearing Niall’s workshop, the phone rang again. My father was cheerily telling me that the Subaru had “failed it” The jeep is not exactly quiet inside and conversations with a passenger are normally done at very high volume so, those over the hands free are fraught with difficulty. When I asked him to repeat himself, my heart lifted again when he reiterated that the car had “sailed it”… “sailed through”… “ yer car passed”. I gleefully told him that I’d be down to collect it about 2pm and continued on to Niall’s. We moved the cast iron bench and huge barbeque into his van and offloaded them once we arrived at his house. My work bag was in the jeep so I locked the door as I went in to admire the transformation he had made of his garden in readiness for all his expected visitors. When we emerged, I tried the key in the lock and it would not unlock. We both had a go but it was in vain. The jeep has no official roof and it had a temporary fabricated affair made of bits of the old soft top and tarpaulin fixed to the body with plastic batons and duck tape. The front lip is forever blowing off creating a wind trap inside so I had been quite keen to completely remove it anyway. We set about unscrewing the self tapping screws holding the plastic and the lorry tie down rope keeping the front of the roof on. After a while, my phone rang and it was my father impatiently asking where I was. I was told that, being a Friday, the boys at the MOT station were likely to finish early and I ran the risk of the car being locked into their yard for the weekend. At this, I hauled the last of the bits of roof off and headed down the road.
None of my dad’s cars were running (he has about seven at the moment) and he needed to go up to see the mechanic. We couldn’t take the jeep up as he had trouble getting into it the last time and I hate to think how he would find the crash gearbox and heavy steering should he need to drive it back down the hill. I asked if George was about and luckily he was. He drove us both up to the workshop only for us to discover that, far from being finishing time, it was their tea time. We waited several minutes which felt like hours. I was getting increasing concerned at the time. Katy had sent me a text saying that she could finish work at five instead of half past. I was wondering if I would even get the car back by then, far less pick her up. The jolly mechanic appeared with his usual big smile. He gave me the key and the MOT certificate and we headed back down the road. The problem still remained with getting the jeep and the Skoda swapped over. I was keen to just leave the jeep until Sunday when we returned but George proposed that he could take my car to the house and I would take the jeep. He could then drive back the Skoda. The car again needed a jump start and George disappeared leaving me to get cracking with my packing. I hurriedly got some things together and had a shower. Eve the cat was making it clear that she wanted her litter tray changed so I tried to find the polythene liners we use. I texted Katy who told me they would be either under the sink or in the bathroom. I looked in both these places for the third time before resolving to improvise with a black bin liner. Poor Eve was left with a litter tray looking more like a capsized hovercraft as I just could not get all the air out of the bin bag and it billowed at the sides in such a way that should Evie fall over mid bowel movement her fall would be cushioned.
After Katy had told me she had gone to the pub with her colleagues, I finally was able to leave to head over to pick her up at around six.
Once we left Katy’s friends we headed to the supermarket to get supplies, Katy got the food and I got forty Benson & Hedges and £30 cashback.
I headed outide armed with the keys to Katy’s van to transfer the camping stuff into the car. When I lifted out the first box, I watched a bottle of red wine roll slowly but unstoppably out of the van and onto the concrete below. On her return, katy remarked that it was just as well she had bought another bottle.
We headed up over the Lecht road, our destination was still several hours drive away and I was keen to make up as much time as possible. The Lecht has a ski centre on top of it so tends to be quite a high, winding road full of bumps and yumps. Katy did not like the sensation and when I overshot a junction and turned the car sharply with a dust cloud she warned me that she would be sick if I did not start to drive a bit slower. As the worries were falling away, so was my speed. I was beginning to relax. We were finally on our way to a well deserved break.
As the roads grew narrower, so did my eyes. I am not accustomed to falling asleep while driving but, although I was determined to reach our destination, I did feel quite tired. Katy offered to drive several times but I felt that if I were to be passenger, I would fall asleep and feel even worse by sleeping in a moving car. I wanted to continue to our chosen campsite but, as the voice of reason, Katy suggested we look for a site at Ullapool, about an hour’s drive from Clachtoll. We found a site just outside Ullapool and drew up at reception. The door was locked and it was in darkness, there was a sign saying that if it was closed, to check in at the house. However it also said that the last arrivals were accepted at 9pm, it was now pushing eleven. We decided just to pitch and we would pay in the morning. The tent went up and I wandered over to the toilet block. It seemed nice enough and there was another camper just leaving. It was as he left that I realised a potential problem. He loudly pulled the Yale lock behind him as he left. It was then that I realised the importance of checking in on this site . A notice told me that the doors must be locked at all times. I opened the latch and very slowly closed the door making sure it didn’t catch. I ran over to Katy and told her that she should go now to the Gents as I has left the door ajar for her. She was adamant that she would not use the gents and walked over some time later to the ladies toilets. Luckily this door was slightly open and Friday night ended with us getting some much needed sleep.
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