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Monday, 15 March 2010

More Real Life

I fought and argued on the phone with Linden Lab today. Plot is still in limbo, as is the SLLU Accounts Avie.

I gave my mind a rest from the political over the past couple of days. Over the past couple of days we had a friend up from the North of England, so we took it as an excuse to get into the countryside again.



Yesterday we went to Luss.






Luss is a place I first discovered on a back pack trip over from my native Ireland back in 1989.


A friend and I had decided to get out of Ireland for a week, with a few quid, a tent and a bottle of whisky. We decided to explore the dark lands beyond the Irish Sea. The bottle of whisky was drank in Balloch in one evening after a good few pints in a local bar and after a day of lying around with desperate hangovers, we walked the ten miles from Balloch to Luss. None of the journey was planned, and when we arrived in Luss, in the evening, we had no light to pitch our tent with. Someone on the camp site gave us a lend of one, and in the strongest wind I think I have ever experienced on the shores of Loch Lomond since, we managed to get the tent up, but we didn’t get much sleep with the wind and rain banging off the side of the canvas.


The next day, we walked through this stunningly beautiful village and when I came to live in Scotland about 5 years later I came back and I try to get to the place as often as I can. My friend and I staggered and wheezed and fluked our way to John o' Groats. No photos were taken. No more whisky was consumed. But the darkened lands became the brightest light, in my mind.





Yesterday we walked around the village and through the church yard to the old slate quarries. We saw a farmer train his sheep dog, and after finding all of the local restaurants closed we drove to Garelochead, past the massive steel blot that is Faslane Nuclear Submarine base.


We ate in the Milano cafe, spoiled only by the bigot who spouted his narrow minded philosophies about the Scots, the Irish and immigrants. After he spouted his thoughts that the Scots should have to put up with the nuclear base and not pick and choose what they want if they get independence, we had, at our table, a loudish conversation that basically said that if the English Parliament want nukes, they could base them outside London if they wanted…





And I am off for a walk through Milngavie village in 1/2 hour after Star Trek: Voyager. I don't think Janeway will barter Seven of Nine.














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