So tomorrow we’re off on a family holiday. For the first time in well over a decade we aren’t starting in a queue at Edinburgh airport and that is such a relief. Forget the waiting, frisking and general hanging about being overcharged for toasties and bottles of water – my daughter’s passport has expired.
Five years ago I realised the same thing a couple of days before departure to Italy. Chaos ensued as we remembered that due to terrorism and such like you couldn’t just turn up and wait at the Glasgow passport office.
Various internet searches for availability came down to flying to Belfast or Liverpool. And so it was that poor husband had to heave himself out or our scratcher at 3am in order to drive to the Beatles’ home town in order to get the required travel documents. Oddly enough I didn’t volunteer.
So the fact that we are off to somewhere near Campbeltown, the former royal burgh in Argyll and Bute, is a relief to say the least.
It is a village in which my mother-in-law was born. As she hurtles towards her 80th birthday a mass family get together has been organised.
I can only hope that the owners of the hotel which we are taking over have both a well stocked bar and ear plugs for themselves.
After that, a smaller family group of us four – plus dog – are heading to Islay. All I know about this island is that there are incredible beaches and something like one distillery per 10 head of population (not serious homework done here).
Daniel the Spaniel will have great fun on the sand and the long- suffering will find solace in the whisky.
I doubt that we’re the only ones not flying off for our holidays this year. The euro is so strong and if the sun shines there is nowhere more beautiful than Scotland.
Mind you, I shall be taking a raincoat and cardigan. With my bag stuffed with Smidge I am hoping that those pesky little beasties will not spoil it in the slightest.