Location, Location, Location

 Last week Scotland opened up. A little. Except for central Glasgow which was still in lockdown tier 3. Our little bit of the country was top of the infection table  but as it was considered localised and under control,  we  were not moved up a tier.

And I had work  to do. We looked at the weather and  it was going to be sunny one day.  This got us very excited. 

There's still much confusion over the next few books but I  do know that I want to set them up in Oban, home of the famous folly and  near the Connel Bridge and the falls of Lora.  In my head, given a certain time of year, and a combination of the tides - the sea coming in meeting  the River Etive on its way out with a height difference of a few feet. I'm trying to put a body in there and see how long it gets  caught in the tidal bore.

For another bit, we drove around for a wee while looking for an area where a baddie could park a vehicle and roll a different  body down the shore into  the loch.

We drove down roads  that weren't on the map,  roads that were 4 feet wide, dodging motorhomes speeding in the opposite direction. We were in the speedy and trusty sandero,  a car, that one day,  will grow up to be a Land Rover.

 We came to many peaceful little bays.

Every single piece of access to the water's edge was  covered in tents or motorhomes or caravans, all wild parking.

 at each site were also signs written by frustrated farmers saying,  'please no campers',  'animals grazing' and  'please keep dogs on leads'.

Maybe a few more vicious animals  might help to educate those that have no idea of the Countyside Code- you know the sort that never closes a gate behind them.

 Highland cattle are generally friendly beasts, unless with a calf, as they are at this time  of year.

 And sheep will tend to run away rather than  charge at you, but if annoyed enough they will have a go.

Beavers have been succesfully  reintroduced  on the east coast.

They are now talking  about reintroducing  wolves.

Why not some bears?

I think mother nature could do with  a hand in  sorting out the shallower end of the gene pool.

Or anybody that annoys me. ( That's quite a long list)

Back in Inverary.

A lone seat and a lost scarf.

I'm sure there's a story here.

The famous castle was closed but we were allowed a walk up the 'long  drive.'

Semi wild, semi cultivated woods.

Everything was buzzing and fuzzing in the sun.

First glance at the castle.

The gates were closed but I had my zoom. This is the home of the Duke Of Argyll.   The phrase Duke of Argyll is rhyming slang for hemorrhoids. Just in case  you ever need to know that.

Glorious Bluebells.

The town of Inverary and the famous bridge below.

It is all rather lovely, isn't it?

 And of course, the  famous puffer, the Vital Spark.

Caro