28 May 2007
182
R. Linda:
Recently at home you might remember we had those terrible floods and steady rain for a good week. It was nothing compared to the high winds one can find in northern Scotland, I can tell ya that much. Once we got to Scotland, and finished our time in Edinburgh I wanted to see the Scottish Highlands since I have read about Heathcliff as a youngster and the idea that the Hounds of the Baskervilles may have run loose on cool chilly nights on moors, well you get me drift. I wanted to see MOORS even if they weren't the right English ones, the Scottish ones would do. I know I be a romantic in me heart and both those novels seemed more set in the Highlands to me than England. I could not be in the kingdom of brooding heroes and not experience it. Just like the castle whining, I did a good job on the Highlands to which we put off going back to London for a wee bit and rented a Land Rover (we didn't want to muddy the Bentley) and off we set. Now Weasil knows the Highlands like the back of his hand he does, and he mapped out a few places we could see on the quick since we had to be back for air flight home and had little time.
A reluctant Jordie got himself the backseat of the vehicle and stretched out the best he could, all 6' 2" of him and me and the Weasil took to the front seats, me in shotgun with Weasil at the wheel. What was to be a three day trip turned into a two day adventure. We got up along the coast somehow and I realised somewhere along the way Weas had made a turn in another direction. A direction that led us to a whiskey brewery not the Highlands and the moors of famed heather and thistle. As we hit the coast and the whiskey brewery signs indicating we be heading that way, Jordie had a fit of a bit and talked Weasil out of the brewery. The whiskey signs began to disappear, and I was realising we be lost. But not just lost but dangerous lost. A storm was coming off the water, I could see it from a distance and we, heading towards dark ominous clouds. We were on the ledge of a cliff road going up and up and further up and I be not liking the view of crashing water on jagged rocks below and the sound was bloody awful. The wind was pushing the Land Rover like it weighed nothing, all over the narrow strip of rocky dirt road. The Rover was spiting and sputtering in it's steep rocking uphill climb and I was thinking the damn thing was going to give out.
"This can't be right," I got out of me mouth as we got to the top and the road stopped. If one were to continue, one would go straight over and that would be that. I looked at Weasil and this time I did slap him upside the head with "You stupid arse!" tumbling from me lips waking up the blissfully oblivious Jordie. Jordie, through sleep filled eyes realised the sound he was hearing and his eyes became wide as he sat up and looked around. "Christ where the bloody hell are we?"
"Shall I tell him, or you?" I asked Weasil.
With much pursing of lips and a long, "Uhhh," Weasil turned around and said to Jordie, "we are outta gassie."
"WHAT???" Jordie and I exploded in unison.
"Not only are we lost, but you are saying we have no petrol?" I said craning me neck to see the gauge and sure enough there was the needle on E.
It was discussed what to do. I remembered a petrol station about three miles (we'd do kilometers but I know how math upsets you) back and suggested one of us walk back there. There was silence (except for the wind howling and the rain pounding) when finally I said I'd go. I got out slamming the door such was me anger, and to the back hatch I went to look for a petrol container in the off chance there might just be one. Alas, there was no such item but I did realise Weasil had a mobile phone. I got back in and said to him to use his phone to get us help. Problem was he couldn't get a signal. Great! I slammed back out of the vehicle and started me journey in cold icy rain, the wind whipping at me like someone hitting me with a cat o' nine tails and off I went. Why me? Because unvoiced as it was, I was the one that wanted the trip, so I was the one to walk three miles for fuel. This was not the way I wanted to experience the Highlands, no it was decidedly not! Me slugging through slippery mud, cold, in the near dark and out in the middle of nowhere.
It took me an inordinate amount of time to get to the petrol station. I spent all the money I had on container and petrol, and went to make a pay phone call with the little I had left to Weasil, only Weas's phone was out of range. The man saw me distress and asked me of me situation. He told me he was going two miles short of where the breakdown was and he'd drop me off there and was sorry he couldn't go all the way, but I caught him as he was closing, his wife was having baby and so on and so forth. For a writer THAT would have been a wonderful story, wife having baby in terrible storm, husband winding his way to her in it. Only this was not the time. I took him up on the ride, I thought one mile wasn't bad even if I was toting petrol, it was better than walking three miles toting it.
The petrol serviceman and I talked about the storm and in his feeling badly he couldn't take me the whole of the way, he gave me his mobile phone in case I got lost and once I got me Land Rover up and running, I was to drop it in the mailbox at the station on me way back. To this I agreed thankful for that and all at once leery I might get lost because it was getting darker and the rain and wind were more fierce than before.
Soaked and cold I left my ride and started the uphill journey on the dirt road which was now all mud and slippery. I slipped three times and must have looked the sight, but I continued on. I thought it was taking me a lot longer to get to where I was going and I started to panic. I stopped and punched in Weasil's mobile number and waited.
It was answered by Jordie who sounded a little disturbed. Before he could say anything I started yakking about me slogging up the hill at the height of the gale and did he happen to know what the wind speed was because it was pushing me all over the place. He replied in a calm voice that he was sorry he didn't "have a wind gauge handy, however, if it were any help atoll the Land Rover was just blown off the cliff." Did that help me any he asked? I realised once this sank in the whole time we were talking the wind and rain sounded double the amplification because he too, was standing in the same storm as meself. I looked up the hill and there he was phone to ear making his way towards me. I dropped the petrol can and had the horrifying, but somehow intriguing notion that he had had enough of Weasil and purposely took the Rover out of brake just as he stepped out thusly sending it and Weasil over the cliff edge.
Picture it, he was coming toward me tall, dark clothing, the wind and rain whipping at him and straight to me and it was dark. Murder! Oh begorrah me. MURDER! For a brief moment I was sure that was the way it was until I saw another figure, awkward, slipping and sliding on the muddy surface hurrying behind him. Oddly me heart sunk that the Weasil was still annoyingly alive and well.
"What happened?" I shouted over the roar of the wind.
"Dumb arse here, thought if he took the brake off, he could roll the motor backward down the hill to meet you. I told him it was a dumb idea, but he insisted. He had me get out to try to give it a push backward, only when I did the Rover began to slide to the right because the wind became more powerful. There was nothing to break it so before we could do anything the wind started to push the Rover more to the right. I had to grab him out of it and just as I did, it went over the edge. This fool owes me his life!"
Using the serviceman's mobile I rang him, I did. I didn't want to but what choice had I? He was good enough to call the local constable and that man came and carried us off that windy hill. So yes, yet another policeman in me life. After that, Jordie separated from us in Edinburgh. I suppose he'd had enough. I know I did, but Weasil was contrite and rightly so. He even made me feel a little sorry for him, but I found out later that was all an act and sheer entertainment on his part. Sigh.
Gabe
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
R. Linda:
Recently at home you might remember we had those terrible floods and steady rain for a good week. It was nothing compared to the high winds one can find in northern Scotland, I can tell ya that much. Once we got to Scotland, and finished our time in Edinburgh I wanted to see the Scottish Highlands since I have read about Heathcliff as a youngster and the idea that the Hounds of the Baskervilles may have run loose on cool chilly nights on moors, well you get me drift. I wanted to see MOORS even if they weren't the right English ones, the Scottish ones would do. I know I be a romantic in me heart and both those novels seemed more set in the Highlands to me than England. I could not be in the kingdom of brooding heroes and not experience it. Just like the castle whining, I did a good job on the Highlands to which we put off going back to London for a wee bit and rented a Land Rover (we didn't want to muddy the Bentley) and off we set. Now Weasil knows the Highlands like the back of his hand he does, and he mapped out a few places we could see on the quick since we had to be back for air flight home and had little time.
A reluctant Jordie got himself the backseat of the vehicle and stretched out the best he could, all 6' 2" of him and me and the Weasil took to the front seats, me in shotgun with Weasil at the wheel. What was to be a three day trip turned into a two day adventure. We got up along the coast somehow and I realised somewhere along the way Weas had made a turn in another direction. A direction that led us to a whiskey brewery not the Highlands and the moors of famed heather and thistle. As we hit the coast and the whiskey brewery signs indicating we be heading that way, Jordie had a fit of a bit and talked Weasil out of the brewery. The whiskey signs began to disappear, and I was realising we be lost. But not just lost but dangerous lost. A storm was coming off the water, I could see it from a distance and we, heading towards dark ominous clouds. We were on the ledge of a cliff road going up and up and further up and I be not liking the view of crashing water on jagged rocks below and the sound was bloody awful. The wind was pushing the Land Rover like it weighed nothing, all over the narrow strip of rocky dirt road. The Rover was spiting and sputtering in it's steep rocking uphill climb and I was thinking the damn thing was going to give out.
"This can't be right," I got out of me mouth as we got to the top and the road stopped. If one were to continue, one would go straight over and that would be that. I looked at Weasil and this time I did slap him upside the head with "You stupid arse!" tumbling from me lips waking up the blissfully oblivious Jordie. Jordie, through sleep filled eyes realised the sound he was hearing and his eyes became wide as he sat up and looked around. "Christ where the bloody hell are we?"
"Shall I tell him, or you?" I asked Weasil.
With much pursing of lips and a long, "Uhhh," Weasil turned around and said to Jordie, "we are outta gassie."
"WHAT???" Jordie and I exploded in unison.
"Not only are we lost, but you are saying we have no petrol?" I said craning me neck to see the gauge and sure enough there was the needle on E.
It was discussed what to do. I remembered a petrol station about three miles (we'd do kilometers but I know how math upsets you) back and suggested one of us walk back there. There was silence (except for the wind howling and the rain pounding) when finally I said I'd go. I got out slamming the door such was me anger, and to the back hatch I went to look for a petrol container in the off chance there might just be one. Alas, there was no such item but I did realise Weasil had a mobile phone. I got back in and said to him to use his phone to get us help. Problem was he couldn't get a signal. Great! I slammed back out of the vehicle and started me journey in cold icy rain, the wind whipping at me like someone hitting me with a cat o' nine tails and off I went. Why me? Because unvoiced as it was, I was the one that wanted the trip, so I was the one to walk three miles for fuel. This was not the way I wanted to experience the Highlands, no it was decidedly not! Me slugging through slippery mud, cold, in the near dark and out in the middle of nowhere.
It took me an inordinate amount of time to get to the petrol station. I spent all the money I had on container and petrol, and went to make a pay phone call with the little I had left to Weasil, only Weas's phone was out of range. The man saw me distress and asked me of me situation. He told me he was going two miles short of where the breakdown was and he'd drop me off there and was sorry he couldn't go all the way, but I caught him as he was closing, his wife was having baby and so on and so forth. For a writer THAT would have been a wonderful story, wife having baby in terrible storm, husband winding his way to her in it. Only this was not the time. I took him up on the ride, I thought one mile wasn't bad even if I was toting petrol, it was better than walking three miles toting it.
The petrol serviceman and I talked about the storm and in his feeling badly he couldn't take me the whole of the way, he gave me his mobile phone in case I got lost and once I got me Land Rover up and running, I was to drop it in the mailbox at the station on me way back. To this I agreed thankful for that and all at once leery I might get lost because it was getting darker and the rain and wind were more fierce than before.
Soaked and cold I left my ride and started the uphill journey on the dirt road which was now all mud and slippery. I slipped three times and must have looked the sight, but I continued on. I thought it was taking me a lot longer to get to where I was going and I started to panic. I stopped and punched in Weasil's mobile number and waited.
It was answered by Jordie who sounded a little disturbed. Before he could say anything I started yakking about me slogging up the hill at the height of the gale and did he happen to know what the wind speed was because it was pushing me all over the place. He replied in a calm voice that he was sorry he didn't "have a wind gauge handy, however, if it were any help atoll the Land Rover was just blown off the cliff." Did that help me any he asked? I realised once this sank in the whole time we were talking the wind and rain sounded double the amplification because he too, was standing in the same storm as meself. I looked up the hill and there he was phone to ear making his way towards me. I dropped the petrol can and had the horrifying, but somehow intriguing notion that he had had enough of Weasil and purposely took the Rover out of brake just as he stepped out thusly sending it and Weasil over the cliff edge.
Picture it, he was coming toward me tall, dark clothing, the wind and rain whipping at him and straight to me and it was dark. Murder! Oh begorrah me. MURDER! For a brief moment I was sure that was the way it was until I saw another figure, awkward, slipping and sliding on the muddy surface hurrying behind him. Oddly me heart sunk that the Weasil was still annoyingly alive and well.
"What happened?" I shouted over the roar of the wind.
"Dumb arse here, thought if he took the brake off, he could roll the motor backward down the hill to meet you. I told him it was a dumb idea, but he insisted. He had me get out to try to give it a push backward, only when I did the Rover began to slide to the right because the wind became more powerful. There was nothing to break it so before we could do anything the wind started to push the Rover more to the right. I had to grab him out of it and just as I did, it went over the edge. This fool owes me his life!"
Using the serviceman's mobile I rang him, I did. I didn't want to but what choice had I? He was good enough to call the local constable and that man came and carried us off that windy hill. So yes, yet another policeman in me life. After that, Jordie separated from us in Edinburgh. I suppose he'd had enough. I know I did, but Weasil was contrite and rightly so. He even made me feel a little sorry for him, but I found out later that was all an act and sheer entertainment on his part. Sigh.
Gabe
Copyright © 2007 All rights reserved
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