The sun shone occasionally for our drive around the island. I know now why people clawed at the ground when they left this place. The high cliffs topped by green fields of sheep, endless mountain top views, white painted houses in quaint fishing villages and rolling plains of purple heather. We drove later to Inverness in the sunshine.
We had dinner in a pub playing traditional Scottish music which sounded very Irish. Later when I went to the toilet, I was confronted by a Jamaican man all in black sitting on the washbasin, playing Bob Marley on his I-phone. Behind him were numerous small bottles of coloured liquid and 3 or 4 pump bottles of soap. A saucer of coins was on the sink. “Hi mun! Howarh going mun!” he said as I went about my business.
When standing at a urinal with your back to a man pedalling bottles of rose water and soap, it is not easy to feel comfortable. My talk of the weather didn’t get much response from him and I was glad for the arrival of a couple of young rowdy Scotsmen. Glad to be in a pub toilet with three drunken Scotsmen with a Jamaican who wants to wash my hands! A shake of my head and, “She’ll be right thanks, mate!” seemed to have done the trick and I made my escape.