"I recollect very little...I am sorry that indolence came upon me toward the conclusion of our journey, so that I did not write down what passed with the same assiduity as during the greatest part of it"

A frenzied post-Horizon work session resulted in an excruciatingly long morning upload (try Fetching 3 sound files down the phone line)from Thistle Doo B&B in Kilchrenan. (many thanks to Kathy Lambie for her infinite patience), we set off into the drizzle towards Inverary and its castle - the current one being built just after B&J visited.

We soon realized why the handful of tourists parked out front were eating their packed lunches in such a desultory fashion - the castle was in fact shut on Fridays.

We contented ourselves with a circumnavigation of the grounds and a moment's cooing over the Highland cows nearby.

We lunched in what was once the Argyle Arms now the Great Inn. Beg to differ, though the stags head in the bar was baronially (?) magnificent...

"After having been so long confined at different times in islands, from which it was always uncertain when we could get away, it was comfortable to be now on the main land, and to know that....we might get to any place in Scotland or England in a certain number of days"


Bozzy clearly wasn't referring to A Hypertext Journal's powers of navigations here - mistaking Tarbet for Tarbart (or was it vice versa?) we managed to do a 82 mile detour up Loch Fyne, due to uncharacteristic cartographic ignorance on Ms Pope's part.
There we were, happy as Larry, singing along to St Etienne with me wittering on about kippers, all the way to Lochgoilhead before we wised up.

Nontheless, we made it to Loch Lomond in good time , though by now the side winds were practically lifting the Metro heaven-wards.

The call of nature was answered in one of its many laybys, but the weather and the commuter traffic carried us onwards through Dumbarton to Glasgow.

We arrived at my sister Alison's, and indulged in a pizza - such was AHJ's craving for food that doesn't come with:

b) a salad garnish (here's to you, Phil Jones)
c) tartare sauce in a sachet
Our next two days were spent in an intense whirlwind with Glasgow Uni Psychology Dept at its vortex, and the wonderful Stefan Korn at its helm. Bit of a mixed metaphor, but hey, it's been a long month...

Thanks to IRC, MBone (a kind of video IRC) and CUCMe, we met many of our most diligent viwers from all over the world, though the marathon length of the session spared Nina & I any really taxing queries, I think, and unfortunately our most profound contribution was a live dance for Eva and Kathy in Vienna.

Paul Welsh was another Glasgow star player, unwittingly up to his neck in the project by this stage, having begun by innocently writing a Glasgow Herald article and ending with having Nina to stay at his house (well, we said it was interactive).We were thrust back into urban life with a boozy night at the CCA with our new pals, none of whom had had any sat in the matter.

Last but not least, my hosts, my sister Alison and my niece Zoe were forced to have a guided tour round the site, with Zoe becoming increasingly ratty as she realised that the laptop was not a Fisher Price.


the diary before this