Grey start to the day, sun tries to poke through the clouds but doesn’t make it. Three young Russians come to stay. They want to go to a beach. Nearest one is at the Braighe, 6 miles away behind the airport. They’ll need a taxi to go there. It’s Sunday, so no buses. They are going to walk back from Melbost along the main road. How nice. Mrs B tries to organise a car for them, as they want to tour the West Side tomorrow, prior to travelling down to Tarbert. They regret stopping in Inverness for 3 days (a waste of time by anyone’s standards), as they now only have limited time before flying back to Moscow on Friday. The haze persists through the afternoon, and by 5pm mrs B starts to worry about her Russian guests. She sends her son and myself out to look for them along the Braighe road, but just as we pass the airport, she rings in to say the wanderers have returned. Yuri, Yakov and Anastasia ask me if I’ll join them on a spin up to Tolsta Beach. I say yes – something I’m going to regret. They first of all go to HS1 for a meal, but end up eating at the Balti House because HS1 was full. Jacov drives the 4 of us to Tolsta, but appears to be remarkably oblivious to the rules of the road. He doesn’t pull up at the stop stripes at traffic lights and commits a frightening mistake on the roundabout by the Coop. He has to turn right there, which in the UK means you go ¾ round the roundabout. Not our driver. He cut straight through against the flow of traffic, ending up facing a jeep head-on which stops well short of the roundabout, to allow us to disentangle us from this mess. I tell him in no uncertain terms never to do that again. He is extremely lucky that there is hardly anybody on the road, let alone police. No further mishaps as we crawl up the road to Tong at 30 mph, in an area where the limit is 60. OK, on to Garry beach, which is very quiet. Just one camper and a field of rams. They are very placid. I’ve heard stories of a car being attacked by a ram, leaving the bodywork well dented. The mist lifts as we walk onto Traigh Mhor. Return to Stornoway at 10pm, with another hairy moment on Sandwick Road, as our driver forgets to turn right.
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Holy Mackeral.....your Jacov needs a few lessons re our roads. !! Reminds me of my American cousin who, though he had live here for a few years with the military, it wasn't until fairly recently when as a passenger of his, en route to London I discovered he knew absolutely zilch about our roads, Terrifying! I then wondered about the many people who come to this country hire cars and are let loose with no knowledge of how to drive on our roads....and no questions asked. Eve
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