on the road to the Forbidden Isle

We set out on a cool, bright morning, a beautiful sunrise sky as we wait for our train (which is, predictably, an hour late - good old Virgin!) Luce upgrades us to First Class - few significant perks other than far greater travelling space, but on a long (and often tedious) journey that is benefit enough. The complimentary snack pack has little actual nutritional value, although heavy on the calories and a veritable E-fest...
Early Saturday morning to Sunday evening - bizarrely enough, our journey thus far almost comparable in duration to that to Nepal. Train from Bristol to Edinburgh, overnight stop there with Sheena before our next 'rail leg'; Edinburgh via Glasgow to Mallaig.
Luce proves even more delightful as a travelling companion than my expectation - her delight as we cross the border is infectious, and she's enthralled by Edinburgh's splendour, the imposing nature of its Gothic architecture. A whistlestop tour of the Royal Mile, then Sheena's whizz around the Queen's Park in the car reminds me of the beauty of my birthplace, and gives me the opportunity to see it afresh, through a stranger's eyes.

Spending the evening with Sheena is lovely - more reconnections... If I've felt an uncomfortable distance in our friendship of recent years, the reasons that situation has developed are now clear, and my paranoia allayed. As Sheena is one of my oldest friends (in the sense that we have known each other a long time, rather than that she's of ages with Methuselah), I should know better than to allow my imagination to fill in the gaps - but on the other hand, that's what I do as a writer; make imaginative leaps to make sense of my warped perceptions... as ever Sheena is funny, perceptive, intelligent, sensitive and above all interesting - such a jewel of a friend; how could I believe there was a conscious withdrawal?It's good to see how the gaps in the interaction of our separate realities have occurred.

Lucy and I are both utterly blown away by the spectacular panoramas between Glasgow and Mallaig. Knocks the Lake District into a cocked hat - even though I adore the lakes.

We watch the sun set over Rum, full of excitement for the following morning when the ferry will take us to the once Forbidden Isle...

from my journal:

these are my words, they comfort and encumber me, the stories I frame about my journeys both help assimilate experiences and limit who I can be; I offer glimpses of myself to others through the words I use to express who I am - and then sometimes become entrapped by a faux role, or reduced potential, by my own stereotyping...