You Cannot Go Walking With Those Pants

The dog developed a special liking for knickers in November. Thankfully Spooks and not mine.

For the first few days it was quite unrelenting…..

However, once we were over the pants hurdle, the month itself has been delightful. I try not to dwell on how sinister the temperatures have been and focus on the beauty of it - a good November under the belt really eases us in to winter.

Carpet of moss in the west coast rainforest

There’s a great view whether you look at your feet or ahead of you…..

A wee lochan on the back road to The Clachaig, Glencoe.

The Waxwings arrived on the croft on the 1st of November and stayed until they’d stripped the whole place of Rowan berries. Scamp comes to stayover once a week and on one morning walk, I stayed still to watch and listen, while she scamped about. She got plenty excercise and I got none….

That one needs full volume to enjoy the moment on the 8th of November. Including the cockerel as the sun comes up.

Scamp is very patient for a 6 month old, but she CAN be a little needy at times…..

Not that I’m suggesting she’s the only needy one...

For the first time ever, I went to the Remembrance service at the Commando Monument. With continuing wars causing death and misery for millions and making some people very rich - and with the religious element not a comfortable fit, I’ve preferred to remember it in my own way, based around stories my mum told me. I almost fell over myself trying to physically distance myself from God Save The King, so I’m a bit of a disgrace…..but it was very poignant nevertheless.

Spook went to Italy with my brother, increasing the Needy November Knicker issue, so I took Courr away for some distraction therapy in the East at my best friends house. She’s got one or 2 dogs (more like 24) and there’s a strict pecking order, which helped Courr to come to terms with his own Fuckwittery. There was just no point!!

One must NOT disturb Whip when she’s updating her social media.

He came to terms with it all eventually and the rewards were heathery hillsides and stubby fields with glorious new smells.

Dill O’ The Hill has oodles of patience and is just delighted that she was that days choice to assist in my pal’s endeavours along with some of my Finzean Favourites….

However, none of that days work on the hill could happen until the same squad had man-handled the Gamekeepers very wide, brand new recliner into his house, fitted it’s feet, and talked him through the workings, so that he could get appropriate rest after the long days that he works.

Finzean truly is a Fair Place and the way this community pulls together at the best and worst of times, is genuinely heartwarming.

It was time to head west again. There was a diversion from Grantown on Spey on the way over from home, at the junction to Tomintoul as the road had dissolved a bit at Bridge of Brown. A local man at the Lecht, where I’d stopped to walk the dog, told me that I should take the short cut from Tomnavuillin past Tomintoul Distillery on the way home as that was much quicker. Nothing like a wee bit local knowledge.

The light was wonderful and inspiring and went from this…..

To this……within 5 or 6 miles…..

The local knowledge short cut took me from Tomintoul to Tomintoul in 40 minute’s - in a snow storm. The shortcut brought me out AT the road closure, and not beyond it and within 5 mins of the road block, I was back to the start of the diversion. Still, the snow storm had passed and the light changed completely on my 2nd attempt and I added to my Whisky Distillery tour by passing Glenlivet twice, Tamnavuillin twice, Tomintoul only once thankgoodness, Ballindalloch, Cragganmore, Tormore and the new one at Grantown on Spey called The Cairn. All I know is that my head was spinning by the time I was passing it on my way west, having just ‘done’ 9 distillery’s in quick succession and there had been some weird subliminal affect on my brain that required me to pour a dram soon as I got home.

That mid November day was the temperature turning point. It had been 17 degrees in Finzean the day before on the 16th.

Moonlit walks with the dog on frosty nights were magical.

Last of the Summer Wine walks with Billy where we discussed ‘Mrs Cooks’ house which hasn’t been Mrs Cooks for decades, and which he could tell me used to be the Nurses house - Annie, though he didn’t know her 2nd name. She’d ridden a Velocette LE which was a ‘silent’ motorbike, mostly used by the police in the 1950’s. Back at the car I suddenly realised the first major frost had just occured and on last weeks walk, we’d wandered past Ronald’s Blackthorn tree which was laden with berries. I had a glass bowl in the car and messaged Ronald to ask if I could harvest his tree. He was waiting beside it when we drove along and he and Billy caught up on vital local information. Annie was a McMaster, and the frame of her Velocette was just down the croft, in the burn, as she had presumably sold or given it to Ronalds father. If it hadn’t been snowing we’d have been straight down there looking for it. If it really HAD been Last of the Summer Wine we’d have hauled it back to Billy’s shed where it would have been restored to its former glory. It dawned on me that Billy hadn’t lived up here in the 1950’s - he moved up in 1969 - so how did he know about Annie the nurse? She used to bring her motorbike into Marshal and Pearsons garage where he worked! Of course he remembered most bikes that came through the workshop!!!

As chill sets in, everyone needs a wee bit extra comfort, food and shelter…

Sometimes the dogs just need a duvet day - like the rest of us…..

And comfort food……like two pieces of shortbread, with jam in the middle, icing and a cherry on top. Last of the Summer Wine always ended up in the cafe, but after the First of the Winter Sloe Gin it was a cuppa at Billy’s.

To end November we drove to Rye to celebrate St Andrews Day with beloved pals we rarely get to spend time with.

They are artists and I wanted to see their studios. Courr ran through the pots of pigment powder and we could have dipped him in water and rolled him on canvas…

Having paint all over you makes you a bit of a social pariah, unfortunately. Anyway, we’re having a lovely time down here. Happy St Andrews Day.