back from another home

Oh you couldn't write it; seems to be a running theme in my life. I've just got back from a trip from the west coat of Scotland. I was with some friends from Cornwall (though they arn't actually from Cornwall. Who is?), we've been living out of a converted van called 'Scampi' and a £17 tent from a favourite friend 'Tesco'. Well if there's one thing I have to accept and humble myself about is one of the very few benefits of England. No midgies. I'm bitten all over and even discovered a tick on me this morning.

I'm not going to tell you where we went and what we got up to because I'm kind of against all that stuff. If somewhere or something's beautiful try to keep it to yourself. The 'Mona Lisa' would be far better if you didn't have to look at it behind glass. Do you hear what I'm saying?

My major high light has got to be visiting Basil's mother. This wouldn't be so funny unless you knew already that Basil's mother is dead. I've been to a lot of graveyards in my time. Except the rise in popularity of cremation, has prevented me the pleasure of standing on someone's grave that I knew. It's quite something to know that a body that you interacted with, that even made a cup of tea, is now partially decomposed and still rotting beneath your very feet. Digging deeper (pardon the pun) noticing the spaces either side of Mrs Forgrieve are empty; I enquire as to why? Basil explains that he has in fact purchased one for himself, while the other has been purchased by his brother, Duncan. Duncan is in fact the local gravedigger. However Basil's real delight comes to the fore during this excursion on viewing his older brother's gravestone. Not only would this be unusual to show delight at viewing your brother's gravestone but even more remarkable is the fact that his brother is not even dead yet. So there it was, the head stone engraved with and accordion with the make even marked on it. On the other side a Native American Indian, I asked Basil the significance - apparently 'the wife' just likes them. Only one hundred years or so for that arbitrary pictorial comment to play out in the mind of the bereaved Obanites. So there it is life and death played out in a very matter of fact way. At least the Forgrieves all know where there going next - a lot less to worry about, I say.