Ireland, Co Kerry and Kaden.

The sand was soft deep and cool to the feet as they sank ankle deep while walking across the tidal flats of the 'River Owenmore' estuary  opposite the village of 'Cloghane'. I felt I was committing a crime as my feet left their untidy trail of deep marks across the acres of geometrically perfect sand wavelets that were obviously 'NOT TO BE DISTURBED' until the incoming tide returned to take possession.

Tanya too left her paw marks albeit not in a straight line and also neatly skirting around any area remotely resembling that dreadful thing called water. My son Keith with fishing rod in hand accompanied me and was soon casting out into the deeper waters of the incoming tide in hope of hooking Sea Trout or incoming Salmon. Lots of Mullet were espied but alas no juicy Trout or Salmon for tea on this night.

For a non fisherman such as myself, the evening and setting were pure perfection. Warm and virtually windless the setting sun glimmered through light emitting cloud which in turn allowed the rippling but flat tidal water to reflect both the light-scape and the stunning mountainous surround of the Dingle Peninsular skyline.

A suitable end to a day where earlier, on one of our bikewalks, Tanya and I had strolled and laid out in the warm sun on the totally deserted beach not five minutes from Keith and Justine's home near 'Castlegregory' and popular 'Brandons Bay'.

We had, a few days ago, undertaken a dull misty and full on drive down from 'Larne' in Northern Ireland after a smooth two hour ferry crossing from 'Cairnryan', Scotland. The cattle market lorry park at 'Ballymahon' served as halfway overnight stop for the two day trek.

"We'll be locking the gates overnight so you'll be secure but listen now they'll be open again early in the morning. Y'have a good night now." Said a cheerful and most obliging guy in the market office as I checked out the OK'ness of my chosen overnight stop. I have always found common courtesy pays off even if it is just a regretful returned smile as someone, for whatever reason, replies negatively.

Soon I was neatly installed and perched on levelling ramps in front of Mr Kaden Woodwards home where parents Keith and Justine are still coming to terms with the changes a new first baby wreaks. One I immediately noticed was how Kaden at only a few months old has magically bestowed total bessotedness upon his parents. A joy to see and to be a part of.

My first wife Sue and mother of our children had visited earlier, just after Kaden's birth. She'd left photos of our children and herself. Photos many of which I had taken but photos I had not seen since the early eighties. I had a surreal hour as I gazed at these wee smiling toddlers and babies who gazed back at me and magically transported me back to exact time, place and feeling of finger pressing down on camera shutter. A very long time ago but there in front of my eyes were photos which were the living image of Kaden as he quietly nestled in mum Justine's arms feeding contentedly just across the room from me.

As I watched number two son and now Daddy Keith holding baby Kaden and fully into total besottedness I was reminded of my first child Mark and how different those first few months after his birth were for me. I was many thousands of miles away in the Far East serving aboard aircraft carrier HMS Eagle. Mark and I met for the first time when he was approximately six months old.

The smiling chubby faces peering back at me from these old photos spoke of happy times though. They spoke creation. Creation of strong loving and lifelong family bonds.

Domesticity

A beautiful country cottage within doggy walking distance of the sea and not far from the famous St Andrews golf links. East Neuk of Fife countryside with the charming and historical university town of St Andrews only 4 miles away. A laid back and gutsy lady called Barbara in residence in said beautiful country cottage, who by the way cooks up a mean rhubarb crumble. Well; I think you can see for yourself can't you? The temptation to return to conventional domesticity, to a static as opposed to a wandering life, is quite strong.

Barbara and I have separate journeys to travel and are agreed now is not the time for either to dramatically change course. Compromise of both our present time hard fought for individual positive lifestyles is not the desired agenda. Enhancement of both our lifestyles through sharing times together wherever and however seems to be more of a feasible plan. Hmmmm: did I say plan just then? OK; lets just look at that for a moment. I think I will change the word 'plan' to 'process'. Yup, sounds healthier to me. For now we sit back, enjoy what is and just trust the process. There, that feels a whole lot better. What do you think?

Barbara, incidentally, loved her week sharing Sadie with myself and Tanya. She fitted in well. Amusingly so as she is physically on the smallish side. This holds many benefits when living in close proximity to a male of the species with all his many, and well known, unsavoury characteristics. Especially when that 'living with' happens to be in the confined space of a motorhome. Also, any woman who without fuss or complaint delves competently into the intricacies of chemical toilets immediately gets my vote. Overall it worked well with Tanya relishing double the attention.

Life never stands still though and the day of parting soon dawned. Barbara left early, taking a few tears with her, (Awwwww! I was sad too.) for a pre arranged meeting leaving me to load up Sadie, turn the key, fire up her engine and roll onward to our next destination, Ireland.

Well I did turn the key. I then heard the distinct and stomach sinking sound of starter solenoid kicking in but no juice left to turn starter motor. Sadie had been sitting for a week quite comfortably in Frank and Bernice's very tidy farmyard, just across from, and viewable from, Barbara's cottage. For once though she was not plugged into mains electricity nor had she had her engine running for the whole week. That equals no top up charging of battery. Not a problem for a good battery but definitely problematic for a tired battery which it now seems Sadie is the proud owner of.

"Damm, guess you don't want to leave either eh Sadie! Whaddya reckon Tanya?"

Tanya raised her head from where she was curled up ready to travel on the passenger seat. She gave me a querying disdainful look, shuffled round and curled up again as if to say, 'no good asking me, I'm a dog, just sort it will you n leave me in peace!'

So I did. This was a highly efficient, highly mechanized arable farm with farmer Franks son busying himself just round the corner preparing the Gi-normous self propelled potato harvester for the forthcoming potato lifting season.

My years of selling agricultural machinery were on stony Cotswold land. Not good for potatoes. The size and technical wizardry of this machine enabling clean and scuff free potatoes to reach the consumer fascinated me. For a few moments I forgot completely why I had clambered up the steps to the machines cab where Franks son was engrossed in setting up the monster machine's computerized controls.

It was not long however before this highly skilled and without question helpful farmers son was backing up to Sadie in a big green John Deere tractor. Jump leads were quickly attached and without further ado Sadie sprang into life.

I had already left a parting gift with Bernice in gratitude for Sadies parking spot but more grateful thanks and a cheery wave were given as we finally drove out of the farmyard and hit the open road.

More expense. But for now the Battery will have to suffice and should in theory be no problem as Sadie will be on the move, and therefore charging said tired battery, for the foreseeable future.

Ireland and my new Grandchild 'Kaden' await.

A dead shot.

The shot was a loud 'crack' over in the rough meadow to our right.

"That's the stag dead then." Said Barbara.

"Oh I do hope so, he's been such a nuisance lately." Answered our host Denise.

Hearing the rifle shot I rose from the table laid out with our generous meal and excused myself. I needed to go and see to Tanya. She is terrified of loud bangs and was alone in Sadie who was parked close to where the rifle shot rang out. I met Colin in his truck as I stepped out of the house into the darkness. Colin was the Roshven postman plus deer manager for the local estate. He had been after this particular stag for weeks as it was refusing to follow the hinds back up into the hills come evening. Preferring instead to cross a busy road after juicier menus in the hay meadows and rough pastures bordering Loch Ailort around our location of Roshven.

Colin gave me a torch and invited me to see the still warm, stone dead but handsome stag before he expertly bled it, loaded it onto his truck and headed off to the estates game larder. We may well see a repeat if we stay in the area as we had all viewed the second 'nuisance' stag silhouetted against the evening gloom of the loch.

Tanya, when I finally got to her, was fine but mighty glad to see me. She trotted along beside me as we headed back to Denise's beautiful and brand new cathedral like glassed home to finish our meal. Bugsy, Denise's dog once again became very keen to bestow sexual favours upon Tanya. Tanya solved the problem by perching herself right behind me on my seat.

We ate, drank and talked till late. We listened as Denise outlined some of the difficulties, frustration and joys of living in such a beautiful place running a business comprising several holiday chalets, 50 acres, and a local burial ground. Not an easy task for a single widow of similar age as ourselves.

We were here as this was a special place with many good memories that Barbara wished to share with me. Good memories for me too now. I love the Scottish West Coast so to be able to stay in this location and enjoy the stunning scenery under sunny blue skies with an attractive and lovely lady friend was complete bliss.

Tonight we are both in awe. Not only have we enjoyed a picnic on a silver sanded beach under warm sunshine at Traigh farm beach, just North of Arisaig we are now, at 7.00pm, preparing to enjoy our evening meal while the spectacular panoramic vista in front of us comprising the islands of Skye, Canna, Rhum and Eigg are painted in ever changing and infinite golden glory by the slowly sinking Western sun.

We sit quietly in contemplative silence for a few moments. Each of us thankful, amazed and deeply humbled that such visual glory is ours to enjoy for the evening.

Fun in the highlands.

"Stop it. Stop it." Cried Barbara as the tears of laughter rolled down her cheeks.

 
"Thausage curry for thix. Thatth what I'll do. Yeth. Thausage curry for thix."

This statement, delivered by yours truly, came after downing one large Whisky and while inappropriately wielding a wooden spatula. Barbara and I were in a similar childish but merry state of mind. We were trying desperately but without success, to bring some seriousness to the task in hand, the unexpected agreement, by myself I have to add, to provide the main course of a progressive meal for the remaining motorhomers from the weekend rally we had been enjoying.

Barbara, brave but foolish girl, had agreed to accompany me. I had picked her up from her beautiful country cottage near St Andrews in the 'East Neuk of Fife'. We knew each other from our respective past working lives and like me, Barbara is only recently embarked on an adventurous journey. She has moved from city living in Glasgow to rural living in a small but busy farming village. A big change of lifestyle.

This was of course a brand new part of the Sadie, Tanya and Steve journey. How were we going to manage and accommodate a female passenger? I need not have worried. Sadie's  double bed and en suite bathroom gave ample privacy for her ladyship, whom, I have to add, has taken to all the compromises of motorhome living like a duck to water. The overcab drop down bed has so far provided very comfy and roomy sleeping for me.

Scotland with warm sunny weather in August and September is simply stunning. So it is no surprise that here we are 9 days later at Roshvin on the West coast still together and having enjoyed another good meal and stunning sunset. Barbara, much to my surprise, has not thrown a wobbly or panic attack when wildcamp spots such as forest tracks, mountain tops or beach sites with 'No Overnight Camping' have been thrown at her. In fact she has relished them. Plus, and this is the really good bit, she does the washing up. Y'know sumptin? I could actually get to like this!!!