Off I go - NOT!

Fear soon replaces excitement as I skid off the A9 and almost hit the barrier on the way into Kingussie. EEK! The snow is falling in big clumps and my bed is a few more hills further on.

However...

One and a half feet of snow fall during the night and I am completely covered in. No chance of driving. My car looks like a big Ice Lolly.

Some Library Visits

Well, I'm a bit rusty but I'm still looking forward to some really great library visits with the help of Christine and the Scottish Book Trust. Arriving at at the library, I get organised and greet some 50 kids plus teachers and librarians. The Imagination session goes well with an array of fantastic questions at the end. Their drawings were tops and they behaved so well. You get the odd wee chestnut like - How much to do you make? What age are you? etc. These were fantastic children who seemed motivated and were very talented. I then speed on to the next spot where the children are equally enthused. I am particularly blown away by a boy called Lewis, who cannot see at all, but is totally part of the whole event, answering questions and showing his sense of fun and excitement during the reading section. I cover my usual Asthma Awareness section and am completely surprised to receive a gift from the Hecklegirth Primary School class. Lewis has written out the first few pages of The Magic Scales in Braille and the rest of the class have made an artistic collage of the front cover. I am totally lost for words. Sign posters etc and make my scary way north.

The Dumpling and the Frozen Loch

Okay, so it's now well and truly the weekend. I've not done the chores I've promised yet, and I need to spend some time outside. It's a crisp,sunny,fresh, afternoon and I've already finished 2 paper rounds and made everyone breakfast. I suggest a walk in the air, but soon realise we'll have to drive to get anywhere a bit exciting. A few seconds after setting off I notice that I only have 20 miles in the tank so this comfortably restricts our movements. 'The Dumpling!' I say.

"Ohh, daaaaad! Not agaaaiiin!"

"Yes, again," I confirm, and we are on our way.

The Dumpling, a 200ft lump of granite stranded a few yards from Gartocharn (pronounced - Garto-Harn), is the perfect viewpoint to see the partially frozen Loch Lomond. Now, the last time Loch Lomond was frozen over, my Mum did this Viking, survival of the fittest thing and pushed me, in my pram, like a lump of blue hone granite, towards the middle of the loch, and presumably the thin bits. I would either be consigned to the depths or... Well. I'm still here, so I presume the gods looked on me favourably. By the way, the view from the Dumpling is 'to die for'.

After trudging up with Betsy, our flat-coat retriever, nutter, dog; Joe, Emma, Justine, Ruthy and the Tiny, we all decide to go for a swim etc at Cameron House.

First changed, Ruthy and myself venture out to take some rare pics of the Frozen Loch. It's fairly solid, all the way from the Cameron House jetty to Balloch Park,

Go home, listless and ready for some rocket, sun dried tomatoes and Parmesan salad.

Look in the hall mirror - still fat - oh yes - the 9 ferrero rocher might have something to do with that, but I was so hungry after all that swimming and stuff.

Playing Journey and walking in the fresh air

A gig. A concert, 'a booking for musicians', as the dictionary puts it. I hadn't picked the guitar up in earnest for over two months and I think it showed. We arrived at the venue, small and more pub-like than club-like. Everyone was very friendly and we were offered chicken curry on arrival. I always find it's better to sing on an empty stomach, though. It avoids the odd burp invading the lyrics at a crucial point. The audience ranged from 20 to 78 and all seemed to enjoy our eclectic mix of everything from Journey's - Don't Stop Believin' to Tony Bennett's - 'San Francisco'. It was 1am when we finished and almost 2am before I locked the car and crawled into the spare room. It was good to catch up with Craig, the drummer, and go over the children one by one, discussing their teenage messiness, deciding whether or not we were Hypocrites and stuff like that... my son, Ryan, went for his interview with the Scottish Academy of Music and Drama. I hope he gets a place, he practices guitar 5 hours a day and deserves a break.

Saturday went by in a blur and now it's Sunday, mid-day. The sun has cut a neat hole in the powder-blue sky and it's time for a walk.

The Brits 2010

Flew down to London and got a taxi to the Tower Bridge Hotel. After a multimedia presentation, I sauntered over the bridge and explored. There was a champagne reception in the hotel before we set off on a river boat to the Brit Awards. More Champs and piano music, we sailed past Westminster and on to the venue. It was very strange to meeting people like Lindsay Lohan and various soap stars etc. George Best's son, Calum, was a delight. The event itself was well run and the food exceptionally good. Mingled until a the small hours and then returned to the hotel by taxi to sleep for a few hours before getting up at 6am to participate in 'The Apprentice'. Sold flowers in Portobello Rd and negotiated prices in Selfridges and Harrods etc. Returned to then get kitted out again and go out in stretch limo to a secret location for another dinner. Now typing this, having slipped away to bed and the much more normal prospect of spreadsheets, emails and doing a few edits. Back home to Glasgow tomorrow, thank God.

A Meal Out

Okay, so it's almost Valentines Day and I've been away all week. Time for some major sucking up. So, I plump for Martin Wishart's restaurant at the Cameron House Hotel, Loch Lomond. £25 each for lunch. The menu looks good and we settle down in our predesignated seat, well away from the reserved, but very empty seats beside the windows that look over the loch. A slight niggle forms in my belly. We then pick from the menu and are given the bread rolls, but without any explanation as to what they might be. Okay, it's nice to play a bit of a guessing game sometimes so that's not the end of the world. I pick the langoustine risotto and the cod in Pu lentil. The current Mrs. Wilding went for the comfit of duck. The meal is pretty nice, though my cod was a bit cool. We get served someone else's Sancerre and confess. The restaurant is well decorated but I feel I should be talking about the food not the wallpaper. I reckon Michael Caine's in Bath Street is still tops and that the real Martin Wisharts in Leith is still well ahead of this experience. It was all topped off at the end by a stand-up telling off by a customer, who complained about the discretionary service charge being described as compulsory. Quite right too. I have to say the the Matradee was pretty good all in all.

Just in case you are a bit hungry - here's a wee recipe for - Cholesterol Lowering Garlic and Spinach Soup



1. Peel 6 cloves of garlic - place them in some melted Benecol.

2. Add salt and the bunch of spinach

3. Simmer until wilted

4. Sprinkle a chicken stock cube over the top

5. Add water and milk, a cup each



Simmer



Blend


Reheat and serve with crusty bread.

Going Home

Hardly on the same level, but I now know how Palin feels when a ferry doesn't turn up or a plane is missed. My plans are foiled and I will have to travel home via Uig and Eilean Donan castle. After the full Monty at the Polochar Inn, I say my goodbyes and head north to Lochmaddy. I pass Whooper Swans upturned in still, frozen lochens. Some of them look as if they've been frozen in the act of tipping; their bums jutting from the surface like fluffy icebergs. It's like a summer's day at Lochmaddy. The sea is like glass and I wander round the ferry terminal making sure that I have at least some of my descriptions right in the book I'm working on. I decide to keep my imaginary bus stop in place rather than plump for reality.

On the ferry, I sunbathe on deck as we pull out of the harbour. It's so nice that I wonder about sun tan lotion etc. A foriegn couple have a good laugh at my expense as I try, in vain, to balance my thin camera on my bag and push the timer at the same time. They eventually show some mercy, stepping in to take my pic. I write a few chapters on the smooth crossing and wiz off the boat at Uig. Between Uig and Portree I catch a glimpse of some really massive wind turbines on the horizon. This is why I'm writing the new book. It's a stark reminder of the duality, the conflict, the good and the bad. They cut an ugly swathe on the mountain-top but, on the other hand, there's something imposing and majestic in the way they move.

Moving down the west coast via Fort William and Glen Coe, I eventually chat to my old-time bass player Jim as I journey down the side of Loch Lomond. Home is only a few miles away now. I've missed the family, Betsy and all.