Saturday, 14 March 2009

IslandTrip Part 1

Well bum-titty-bum.

I arrived in Oban - arsehole of nowhere (but quite pretty) - yesterday after Fisher dropped me off at the Caledonian Hotel. The first person I saw was Sister's Pa-in-Law, who considers me the bum-fluff of the universe. He ignored me. I ignored him. It worked well. Unfortunately, I keep seeing him (he's sitting opposite me as I type in the bar at this very moment) so keeping up the pretense of not noticing him is getting harder. Nevertheless, he has no desire to speak to me, nor I to him, so this is the civilised option.

Anyhoo - after checking into my little stable stall (only not as roomy) I went out into Oban to do some shopping. I wanted to pick up a few treats for Sister at the local deli, which I did - including some Serrano Ham and some luvverly looking cheese. There was a particularly delightful Brie on the countertop which I couldn't resist. Am a sucker for Brie. I then made the mistake of calling Sister to ask if there was anything she needed. There was. I therefore went in search of:

1) A dummy. Surprisingly hard to find. You now have a choice of tooth guards, tooth soothers, and things called 'silicones'. Nothing is called a dummy nowadays. Perhaps it's non-PC? Still, job done, on to number 2.
2) A cheap whisk and a pair of cheap scales. Whisk found in nearby home shop. No scales. Scales found in home shop on other side of town.
3) Books for nevvies. This wasn't requested by Sister, but I can't pass a Waterstones without popping in.
4) Long sleeved t-shirt for nevvy 3. Alas the only shop that looked likely to provide such a thing was shut for - I kid thee not - a 'fashion show' - at 5 pm. If I say it was M&Co, all natives will understand the preposterous oxymoron of the above.
5) Called it a day.

Now, something rather unpleasant happened during the course of all this. I discovered that Oban has a particular pungency not unreminiscent of foul drains. I first noticed it in Boots, picking up the dummy. It was faint, came and went, and I thought nothing of it. Then I went to the first home shop and thought the man who helped me was one of the most rancid smelling human beings I'd ever encountered. I wondered whether he'd dropped a wind package just before I came in - and whether he'd been eating cowpats for lunch. I left hurriedly. Unfortunately, as I was wandering round the second home shop, I became aware of the smell following me. Gradual dawning realisation left me with a creeping horror. It was me!! I'd taken the pooches for a walk with Fisher before she left and must have trodden in dog crap!! And I'd been traipsing it round town!!! What hideousness.

I made a quick break for the hotel, via a handy puddle. The suspicious brown stain was easily removed, though, and surreptitious examination reassured me that my shoes were no longer stinky. I therefore went into Waterstones for books.

While buying entertaining but educational books for my nevvies I was distressed to discover that the smell had NOT gone. In fact, as I stood waiting for the till, I was overwhelmed by a horrible, horrible waft of foulness. I was aghast. This could mean only one thing. It was genuinely, awfully, ME! I could not imagine what I'd done to myself - but there was only one course of action - gather up my bags and head to my room to shower and scrub myself head to foot with gravel. I bent, and as I grabbed my bags, a full waft almost sent me reeling.

I burst into merry, relieved laughter. At a quizzical look from the till man, I explained how I'd been followed by a stench all morning and had just come to the conclusion it was myself - until that moment. Instead:

"It's my Brie de Mieux!" I chuckled. To which the till man retorted:

"So it IS you."

Thanks for that.

Anyway, that was the extent to which interesting things happened yesterday. I spent the entire evening watching Comic Relief, deciding to donate £5 every time they made me laugh out loud. I donated £15.

This morning I was roused by my internal alarm clock. I peered blearily at my watch in the gloom and thought it said it was close to 6am. After 5 or so minutes of waking myself up by shouting loudly inside my head, I switched on the light and started getting up. Then I had the aforethought to read my watch in the light. It was 4.30.

At 6am I received the wake up call I'd ordered. It was much harder getting up the second time - and utterly horrendous to trudge downstairs with my huuuuge suitcase and be told the ferry was cancelled due to Force 9 gales.

So, I'm now stuck in Oban for the day. There really is nothing to do in this little toon. However, it's Man U against Liverpool (kicking off right now) so I'm off to the pub to watch it. Hopefully I'll live.