Fireside reflection

Sometimes when I pass a mirror, I get a fright and think, “Why is Aunty Greta following me?” And then I realize the figure staring back at me is not dearly departed Aunty Greta, but me. Plain old me, at the age I remember Aunty Greta to be.

Time passes quickly when you're not really looking.

We’re in Scotland right now for our vacation, but it's not a sitting-by-the-pool vacation. Not that anyone would go for a sitting-by-the-pool vacation in Scotland, in December. You find anyone on a sun lounger by a pool, it will be because they got frozen there after that last sunny day in August.

It's a catching up with family, big event vacation and we’ve been busy, really busy.

We’ve traveled across Scotland on cars and trains and ferries. We had a book launch and an 80th birthday, and a TV launch, and a wedding with all the men wearing kilts.

We’ve never stayed anywhere more than a couple of nights on the trot, and so this week I announced that we were driving no further and staying the night in a hotel for some proper down time.

We chose a budget hotel by the river in Glasgow figuring that when it comes to four people, the more rooms the better. And it worked out just fine. More than fine actually. We all slept a good 10 hours and woke, ready to start the mayhem all over again. Sometimes all you need is a bit of space to reset.

I guess that's why people talk about travel in the first place - for the reset. That it broadens the mind. And it blatantly does. Though if I'm honest, maybe because I'm a persnickety old sock, I've always found that wherever I stand in the world to be less important than the company I'm keeping.

Scotland is undoubtedly glorious in spectacle, but honestly meeting with people I haven't seen for a while ( even if it's only briefly) feels a lot like meeting them anew. And I remember why it was they always mattered to me in the first place.

Sitting next to a roaring fire, in a wee house nestled between a hillside and the Clyde, where the view out the window offers the perfect setting for Mel Gibson with a blue face to yell in an antipodean Scottish accent about how nobody is ever taking his freedom, I’ve been struggling about what to write. Not because of where to start, but because I'm not sure where to stop.

Then I took a wee sip of hot tea and accepted that I'll probably write about this trip in Notes to come, but for now, it's good just being in the moment. Going with the flow. Savouring every daft little instant because these moments will surely pass, and I don't want to miss a single one of them, because my mind is focused on what comes next.

That's what I want to take home with me - along with the chocolate and the gluten-free oatcakes and a proper selection of tartan daftness - I want to remember that no journey is repeatable and nothing lasts forever, so to nestle in and enjoy the now.

Sometimes when I pass a mirror, I get a fright and think, “Why is Aunty Greta following me?” And then I realize the figure staring back at me is not dearly departed Aunty Greta, but me. And I smile. Knowing some day someone will look in a mirror and for a moment they'll think it's my face looking back at them. (Poor souls)

But I will be gone and just a memory. And the space I once took up with be their space alone.

And I mustn't forget that, because there's still so so much to see.

Xo

Ps: whether you're in Scotland or abroad, can you click on the wee heart ‘like’ emoji either at the top or the bottom of this Note as it does wonders for my algorithm. Thank you xo