The Farmhouse where we stayed at Kintyre was at the end of a mile of rough farm track. From the house we looked down to fields which took you down to the beach then there was Sanday Island and the next stop was Northern Ireland. So it was a fairly remote spot and we were really at lands end on the Kintyre peninsula.
On the Saturday night going into the second week my husband and I were sitting outside having had enjoyed another day of sunny weather in Kintyre when it seemed from the news that other parts of Scotland were having anything but. With flash floods in Edinburgh and delays to the Scottish Open. It seemed a bit surreal to us almost as if we were in another country. Little did we know we were about to be brought back down to earth.
As we sipped our Cava and talked over the events of the first week as we looked out to sea we suddenly heard a noise. Something was thundering down the track. We looked up and to our astonishment a big mini bus seating about 20 plus people hurtled down the track and stopped as it got to the farmhouse. Having seen little to no one all week this was a shock in itself. Then the door of the mini bus opened and out of the bus appeared Mary Doll. It was a hen party from Glasgow town.
Mary Doll was dressed for the occasion much as you might have gone out in a resort in Spain for an evening. Her black and wet spotty dress was short and strappy and was accompanied by very high strappy sandals.
With a friendly wave Mary Doll tottered towards us as the other hens on the bus waved at us cheerily. Now neither my husband or our dog are known from being speechless or barkless. My husband sat there mute still with his mouth hanging open as our dog sat beside him equally quiet.
As Mary Doll got closer to our table she asked my husband
“Are you Farmer Sandy? We are looking for Farmer Sandy?”
Husband still mute was unable to reply. So I had to talk for him. I explained that no we were staying with Farmer Terry who I am sure would be able to help with finding Farmer Sandy while secretly being relieved that we were staying with a Farmer called Terry not Sandy. I gave the instructions to Mary Doll where to find Farmer Terry and she was off doddering on her high heels over the farm track at a speed that was most impressive for heels of that length in country terrain.
As both husband and dog were still mute. I turned my attention to the coach. All hens were cheerfully chatting and singing and handing round well there is no better word for it the bevvy. Off though came the one male in the group the driver. Again very polite he waved at us before taking an inspection of the cows in the nearby field or was it to take a call of nature?
After ten minutes or so Mary Doll appeared back at speed with a great sense of urgency and gave rapid instructions to the driver where lucky Farmer Sandy could be found. With a wave and a bye bye to us she was back in the coach. As they thundered back up the track this time picking up speed with the good news that Farmer Sandy was close by we got a wave and a smile from each and every one of them.
With a cloud of dust they were gone and my husband finally got his voice back “What was that?” were the first words to come out of his mouth before he took another sip of Cava and rubbed his eyes to see if he was actually awake or it was in fact a dream.
Must admit I did the same thing myself as I woke the next morning to another sunny day on the Costa Kintyre. Not only was it a very entertaining incident but in such a quiet area of the world with next to no people. You really could not make that up or could you?