Highland photo journal, part 4- Applecross (a foodporn installation)

I promised foodporn…. but I also have to share my journey here and the provide a bit of background on the place that makes me happiest in all the world.

Having returned to Mallaig, we just managed to catch the calmac sailing to Skye.  Here’s our little adventurercar on board.

We skipped across Sleat and off over the bridge.

It may seem a long way round to sail to Skye, drive through it, then off again over the bridge, but it was much quicker than driving up over the mainland.

On arrival at Applecross we set up camp and made a spot of lunch using the local hot smoked salmon.

Yes, it was pretty amazing.

We then headed straight for the Potting Shed in the Walled Garden for carrot and walnut cake and a glass of wine.  The garden was looking beautiful, even in the light of the slightly greyed skies.

 

The last time we were here was in March when everything was suffering after the harsh winter.  It’s hard to believe the garden could have recovered, so it was nice to see how lush and colourful it was.  It looked like a scene from a fairytale.

 

We Will Rock You-Cheesefest at the King’s Theatre

Sometimes it’s ok to be cheesy.  Thursday night was one of those times.

The last thing I felt like doing was declaring aloud that we were the champions after the worst day at work ever.  However, having bought show tickets for We Will Rock You several months ago, I was determined the show must go on.

My mood was instantly lifted when, on our way for a pre theatre bite, we stumble upon the starting line of the Monte Carlo rally outside the Blythswood Hotel on Blythswood Square in Glasgow.  All pre 1974 classic cars at the start line of the 2 day race across Europe.  I would have hung about for a bit of pre race start line shmoozing but the closure of the surrounding roads caused traffic chaos and this led to much lateness and car parking issues so we had no choice but to move onward and upwards.

As mentioned before, work was hell, so this was my justification for pre show school night daiquiris.  Two were sufficient to reach the desired effect before we took our front row circle seats.  Jolly good seats they were too!  I wasn’t sure what to expect and to be honest I didn’t have too high expectations.  It took me a wee while to get into it as I was still reeling from the worst day at work ever (it was really really that bad).  However, the power of Queen cannot be underestimated and before I realised toes were tapping and I felt the overpowering urge to sway and….heaven forbid…even sing.  I never saw that coming just a few hours previously.  A wee G&T at the interval topped up my happy levels and we were off again saving the world from Simon Cowell and the Killer Queen’s gaga world of mass produced synth pop. Even Noel Hearsay’s dodgy American accent was forgivable given that he was, and I say this in a hushed voice, actually quite good…at the singing that is. The accent was trully terrible.  Fortunately the rest of the cast were dodgy accent free.  I hear a few were various reality TV singing/dancing contestants, but at the risk of sounding like a pretentious arse, I didn’t know any of them as I don’t watch those programmes. (Aye, I sounded every bit of the dick I thought I might, oh well).

Anyway, cheese overload accomplished.

Scaramoosh scaramoosh, do I do the vandango?  Yes.  It appears I do.

The hangover

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I must be about 8.2 on the Teucheter-scale today.  I would have been about 8.9 on friday night but I’ve managed to bring it down a notch or two to a less catastrophic state.

Celtic Connection festivities lived up to expectations.  After checking into our 12th floor, ahem, “penthouse” room the evening got underway with that most traditional of Scottish beverages, and one of my all time favourites-  The Daiquiri.  Well, washed down with a side of chilli and parmesan chips and it’s a definite Celt-Cuban classic!  This was followed by…another Daiquiri but this one was in the grand surroundings of the Blythswood Hotel- not a deep fried tatty in sight. After a bit of eavesdropping on some lovies who swore blind they new best friend was the manager of the Black Eyed Peas (really?…but really though?) we moved on to line our stomaches before doing some serious damage.  Anyway, we weren’t friends with anyones manager so clearly were not going to fit in.  Not with the kind of night we had in mind.