Amigos

I have a deep and unnatural fear of the mundane, a horror of being bored in a colourless and repetetive life. And so it was a good day yesterday all round: one to be remembered.

If the engine fails to fire in a sleek modern car it is the occasion for cursing, but when the tiny key elicited only a dull click under the bonnet of our gorgeous 1968 Morris Minor, my daughter and I were calmly philosophical.

Not so four large Oban men who without consultation launched us joyously onto the main, fast, accident-ridden road into the town. The window between oncoming cars was small, and in second gear with the ignition switched on we went with the flow: something of a"we are all going to die" moment...

The Moggy bounced into life immediately (hooray), and shot away from the four amigos with much waving of muscular tee-shirted arms (hmm nice). They receded like an old film shot in the upside-down smile of a rear window, fragmented in the little round bonnet mirrors as we juddered and roared into town.

We cut out again halfway up Pulpit Hill. But no matter, a man wearing costume and with a pigtail down to his waist appeared with jump leads and within minutes we were roaring again. 

It would add to the story if this were a random encounter, but actually we were on our way home from open air theatre by The Walking Theatre Company at Bonawe Iron Furnace (it was fab), and this actor had won home ahead of us.

With the wee house serving as digs for the night for the parcel of rogues who made up the cast, raspberry cocktails and wine propelled the evening onwards into a gathering ceilidh session. Songs were sung, guitars came out, followed by bodhran, ukelele and fiddle. We found our way to Highland tunes and then we were away.  Life stories were swapped and the world set to rights before two of the party went out on the lash and the rest settled in for tea and musing till the small hours.

So yesterday was grand, and today has been fine too. Breakfast with the thespians (porridge and Talisker!) was followed by another turn round the Highland tunes (it is so hard to stop once you've started), and the morning ran into an afternoon curled up with cake, crosswords, dogs  and good friends listening to old and lovely tunes by Fairport Convention.

Tomorrow will be the usual cornucopia of works on medieval castle and historic house, a new tartan and silver jewellery range, planning for a fabulous arts event next year, and more thinking about Gaelic.

Why do I waste time even thinking about the dangers of boredom? Not looking likely.