The Last Ditch by Tom Paine

After Tuesday's automotive excitements and having driven enough miles (more than 100) since the 'reset' to reassure me that all is well again – I decided on a quiet day. I pottered around at 'home' in rainy Achnacarry – only emerging to go shopping. I went to Morrisons in Fort William to buy the ingredients for the roast chicken dinner I was taught to prepare on my course at Ashburton Cookery School this year. It was the only meal on the course that I have not prepared since, unsupervised, so cooking it was a 'to do list' item.

On the way back, I called in at Old Inverlochy Castle. This was the surprisingly modest home of the powerful Comyn family in the late 13th and early 14th Centuries. In 1306, in full Game of Thrones mode, Robert the Bruce murdered Red Comyn before the altar of a church. His rival to the crown removed, Bruce had no use for this modest castle and it has not been lived in since.  The buildings were used as a court house and as industrial storage before falling into the picturesque decay in which Scottish Heritage currently preserves them.

I accidentally disturbed a young couple in the only dryish, partly-covered part of the structure. The man was certainly French and the woman may have been Scottish. I am not quite sure what they were up to, but as their Auld Alliance seemed to pose no threat to England, I affected not to notice them and moved on.

In the nineteenth century Old Inverlochy Castle was replaced by the current version; now a luxury hotel. I have stayed there – in a fit of excess – on a previous trip. The food was adequate and the rooms very pleasant, but to justify its rates it would need to be as much better than The Dorchester as they impertinently exceed those of the latter. It isn't.

Today I am off to Iona for – who knows – some spiritual nourishment. Speranza hasn't been on a boat since her return from the USA so it's time for her to get her sea wheels again.