There’s me always banging on about how I love the heat and so on. Then last night I write about how my car is air-conditioned so driving to Scotland in summer will be reasonably clement.
To bring me down a peg or two, the universe conspired to make the Aircon pack up in Bergman. Nothing like eight hours in a hot car to make you question preferring the summer. Window down meant deafened, window up meant cooked. I stopped at Halfords to see if there was a hot fix but they didn’t want to make it worse. That’ll be money in the garage for a future version of me, and meanwhile … I’m in Scotland again YAY.
My cousin invited me to dinner this evening, which was very thoughtful of him. I was in no state to be a guest though. Family dinners, formal dinners… never an easy time for me, and doubly so when I’m absolutely exhausted. He’s not going to be at the wedding, so I totally see how he’s extending the invitation now, but the last thing I wanted was to socialise. He even offered me a bed in the pantry, but I’ve booked this little apartment near Loch Lomond. I want to be able to walk around all morning in my pants trying on kiltybits. I tried to make my excuses: “I’d like to get to where I’m staying before it gets dark!” “oh but it gets dark so late right now!” Eventually I just pulled out. Nothing left in the tank.
It’s a nice little apartment. Very IKEA but self contained. Plastic sheets. I’m in them and I’ll still sleep like a baby. I’m feeling a little curmudgeonly for leaving before pudding but honestly I was no good to anyone in terms of conversation. I just wanted to be horizontal in a vessel that isn’t made for transport. This bed will suffice.
Sometimes we really want to be talkative and engaged and engaging. Sometimes the opposite. That’s where I’m at this evening. Hopefully I didn’t upset my cousin.
AlBarclay 