The reccie ... Day 2

Apparently black pudding comes as standard on the Full English brekkie in Scotland. Eurgh! Hubby apparently has high hopes for today’s room-hunting. We’ve just got two rooms to look at this morning, then we’re going to spend the afternoon driving around the area, using the sat nav to its full potential. First on the list is a room in a little village. I wish he’d asked people if they smoke. You just don’t think about it when you don’t smoke I suppose. They’re a nice enough family but seems a bit too “Coronation Street” for Hubby – apparently the grandchildren are always round as they live next door, and their son’s always popping round and staying over too. No quiet days for sleeping off a late shift there then. Next is “The Palace”, as it will henceforth be named. The Palace is in the middle of nowhere. One of those that you can see from miles away because it’s the only house in the area. It’s also named very appropriately, and spookily – I won’t say what the house’s name is for their privacy, but it’s obviously fate. So we drove up the track and into the sweeping gravel driveway, and Hubby wants to put dibs on the hammock we spot in the sun room. We’re welcomed with open arms and spend a lovely morning being shown around the room (with en-suite), the extra room that the children can use when we visit (this is not an “if” we visit house, it’s definitely a “when”), the kitchen, lounge, sun room, Granny’s quarters, master bedroom with an en-suite bigger than our entire house, and last but not least, the double garage, huge garden with amazing views and the hot tub, which is so big you can do laps in it. Needless to say Hubby’s smitten, and we have a long chat with the owners who are a font of information about the area. We say our goodbyes, and the owners suggest that we find the local castle, Delgatie Castle, which is just a walk through the woods, or a short drive.

Off we tootle, we have a drive into the village then follow our noses to the castle, which is fab. It’s privately owned and until recent years was still inhabited by the Laird. The housekeeper, who has been there 17 years, is now one of the trustees and welcomes us in the little café, the Laird’s Kitchen. Fortunately she can take card payments – there’s very little cash in our wallets, and far too much yummy stuff on the menu! Halfway through our very nice lunch (I had a beef open sandwich and carrot cake, and Hubby had some kind of skink soup, I can’t remember the proper name, then coffee & walnut cake), Hubby’s new family arrive after walking their dogs through the woods.

They’ve been thinking of activities we can do with the children bless ‘em, they seem such a lovely couple. After another long chat with them and the housekeeper (they know each other very well), we realise it’s started to snow, so we have a look in the gift shop, get the children a lovely rag doll and a sword & shield, then set off back to the B&B. It’s a pretty hairy ride – the snow’s coming down in massive flakes that seem to bounce off the road and disintegrate, but fortunately it doesn’t appear to be sticking. Hubby scares the heck out of me by announcing that he doesn’t think we’ll make it back with the current tyres … what, so we’re going to camp out in the car then until a kindly passerby tows us to the nearest Kwik Fit are we?? But the snow stops, we pop in to Morrisons for some tea and go back to the B&B to hole up for the night. Now feeling much better than yesterday … positive about the house, ecstatic about the room we’ve found for Hubby, watching the snow fall outside and laughing hysterically at Winter Wipeout. Oh, and I pop down to ask for beans instead of black pudding for brekkie. Now all we need to do is get home to our babies.