The road to the Isle

The trip to Bute turned out to be quite a marathon. Despite all intents to reduce our luggage load we still had a lot of cases, Fiona's crib and stroller. Getting from St. Pancras to Kings Cross was downright hard work.

Arriving at Edinburgh Waverly we found that a peace march had clogged up the roads and taxi's couldn't get down to the station. We waited for over and hour in line. Each step forward in the line involving a massive amount of luggage movement.

The rental car company turned out to be somewhere on an industrial estate in a part of Edinburgh I had only read about in Ian Rankin novels. I hope I never see it again.

We arrived on the west coast around 6:00pm and my hope to pass through Greenock on a Saturday without encountering the obligatory drunken football supporters were dashed when we stoppped at Tesco's for provisions.

Unfortunately Celtic had won that day and the obligatory drunken Celtic supporter cornered us in the toilets attempting to strike up a conversation with Alexander while he releived himself. We made it out of loos ok and went shopping. We later saw said supporter collapsing on the pavement while waiting for a taxi. Ah, it is good to see that the old traditions are alive and well in Scotland (not).