There is still snow on the mountains up here.
The sun is shining its head off, but no balmy summer temperatures have permeated the Highlands. Scotland is having none of it. None of your Global Warming here, thank you.
I had suggested to Oliver that he leave his thermal underwear at home, but he declined, politely. He was still wearing it every day before he came home, he explained, darkly, and so far, saw no meteorological incentive to desist.
The day started with a bit of a scramble.We worked last night, obviously, because it was Saturday, and even though the nightclub is now a distant memory, like measles in childhood, we still did not get to bed until long gone two.
We set the alarm for nine. Then we put the washing on before we went to bed, because we do not have that many clothes, and we needed them to take with us. When it went off we raced downstairs and pegged it all on the line, and indeed, it was almost completely dry before we dragged it all down at the very last minute, and stuffed it into the van to set off.
The Weather Gods must have been distracted somewhere, perhaps somebody had taken their clothes off to dance round a stone circle.
Setting off was, predictably, a hasty flap, filled with watering the conservatory and piling Lucy’s things into her car and emptying everything out of the fridge. We did not need everything, but you never know what might happen. We had promised ourselves that we would set off by eleven, and we almost did.
The rush was because it takes most of eight hours to drive to Oliver’s school, and he had got to be back by nine at night. Obviously we can’t just do a non-stop journey, either. There has got to be pit stops, for fuel, and the lavatory, and dinner.
We said a cheery goodbye to Lucy, who was very pleased to be going off in her own little camping-car pod, with her bed and her stove and her jar of pina colada. We do not know when we will see her again. I hope it is soon.
After that we were on the open road. We talked to Oliver for a while, mostly about his exams. I do not know why he persists in asking us about his academic pursuits. We can hardly be held up as shining examples of an education rigorously pursued and then utilised to its maximum benefit. I would not like to bet on Mark even being able to spell ‘taxi drivers’.
Eventually he had had enough of our helpful advice, and swung himself up to his bunk, where he slept until Perth, and we listened to the story and I knitted.
We stopped at Bruar for curry and fruit mousse, and then chugged in to the Gordonstoun driveway just after eight.
Most of Oliver’s luggage was thermal underwear and tuck, which was fairly quickly absorbed into his dormitory. I watched him unpacking with a small glow of smug pride, because he is so very organised and tidy. His drawers are neatly folded and arranged, with a place for everything, he has done everything he can to make sure his life runs smoothly and easily. I thought with some self-congratulation that it might be down to some superior parenting, but probably it is because of a series of determined matrons.
His dorm-mates were both there when we arrived, engaged in some sort of noisy online gaming, accompanied by chatter in two different languages and howls of laughter. We were sorry to say goodbye, but it was more that obvious that Oliver is in just about the best place possible for a teenage boy. We like his company, but we are boring old gidgits, and do persist in going on about how he needs to concentrate on maths and science if he ever wants to be a doctor.
He doesn’t want to be a doctor, but he might change his mind.
We have just stopped for the night. We are outside the known world by a long, long way, in the place of the White Walkers and the White Witch. It is after eleven at night, but the sun is only just beginning to dip below the horizon. The skies are clear, ice blue and streaked with pink, and it is bitingly, bone-chillingly cold.
Lucy has called to tell us that she is home, where she was very pleased to discover that in a moment of thoughtful self-nurturing, she had cleaned up and left everything tidy and welcoming before she left, as a present for herself this very afternoon.
Mark and I sat in the back of the camper van with cups of tea, and looked at the night sky, which was bright with a sort of clear dawn light in the north, even at midnight.
We are going to close the curtains and go to bed.
Have a picture of a boy.
