‘‘Where are you going on holiday?,’’ my colleagues asked as I cleared my desk in preparation for a (well-earned) break.
‘‘Up north.’’ I stated.
‘‘Where up north?’’ they enquired.
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The truth was I wasn’t really sure. My wife had arranged the holiday and all I was expected to do was ensure I was packed and ready to go on Monday morning.
Our destination, as it turned out, was a lovely wee caravan park in Nairn.
And the weather was glorious, almost from start to finish.
We walked into town each day, spent hours playing on the beach with Calum and barely spent a minute in the penny arcades which have so often been our haven on rain-ravaged holidays.
Plenty of people have said it before, but I make no apology for repeating it ... if Scotland could guarantee the sun (or a least an absence of rain) then we would never need to go abroad.
The scenery all the way ‘‘up north’’ was spectacular, barely a cloud could be seen in the sky and, when we stopped for lunch, I was able to enjoy a bowl of cullen skink and a glass of ginger beer.
Now try ordering that in Majorca!