91热爆

A blog, eh? Seemed like a good idea, but now it's time to write I'm not so sure. Recently moved to Skye from Glasgow for work reasons, and I have to say I am thoroughly enjoying it. Whilst I miss a lot of things about Glasgow, there are lots of things about Skye that more than make up for it. Don't really know if this blog will be remotely interesting, informative or entertaining, but hey - you don't know till you try, right? It's not like I'm going to force anyone to read it, right? Ah well, on with the show.....

First impressions

I love the sea, and I love islands. Being somewhere where you are so close to the coast is fantastic. And Skye has a LOT of coast. But it has a big bonus, and that's the mountains. Have a look.....






















But there is a big, BIG problem. Housing is very difficult to come by. Unless you have half a million pounds kicking about that is. I spent most of my summer trying to find somewhere to live with no joy. I looked in Estate Agencies, the local press, I got in touch with the council housing department, I asked around, I used the internet - none of which yielded any results. In the end - and less than a week before I moved here, may I add - I got a call from someone who had seen my card in the Co-Op looking for accommodation and had a flat that the last tenant was about to move out of. Talk about a lucky break! But it must be hellish for young couples and families looking to set up their first homes in the community they grew up in but who can't find anywhere they can afford. And whilst it would be easy to point the finger at the 'holiday home' owners and landlords for bringing this situation about, that industry is so vital to the economy of the island that it would be folly to do so. The answer is to build more, affordable housing on the island but it must be done carefully to avoid destroying the character and feel of the island, which is of course the very reason people want to live here in the first place.

As for my place, it is spacious and most comfortable. My landlord seems like a very nice, reasonable and approachable individual. Now that I have all my stuff up from Glasgow, and have sorted Sky telly and my broadband out, it is starting to feel like home. I have had visitors up from Glasgow 5 times already, and they've all loved it.

I think I have landed on my feet.

Well, that'll do for just now. Next time I'll fill in some of what's been happening since I got to Skye.

So, I innocently log back into Island Blogging, and there's my blog in all its glory. A "Featured Blog". Where did THAT come from????? I was kind of horrified at first - still very new to this whole blogging thing - but then I read the very nice comments that had been added to the blog and started calming down. So thank you Dave, Wee Fi, Ruth and GrannyE. Glad you liked the irst post. And thanks to Anne at IBHQ too.

So, feeling somewhat daunted, I'd managed to forget what my next post was going to be about!!!!!! Impressive, eh? However, I'm a good Glasgow boy, and we always have something up our sleeve, so here goes with a subject close to my heart: Swally!

BROAD_FORD AND THE QUEST FOR THE BEST LOCAL

So, Broadford is the second biggest settlement on Skye. Even so, according to the most recent population figures I can find there would appear to be less than 600 people who live here. That's smaller than Aberfoyle or Kinlochleven. It's half the size of Millport or Ullapool and a quarter the size of Gretna. My previous home town, Glasgow, on the other hand has an estimated population of over 1 million - 1,171, 460 to be precise. Needless to say, this has resulted in a vastly different lifestyle. There are far less shops and services in Broadford than even in my small part of Glasgow, although there IS a 24 hour garage nearby (thank goodness!). This means that I have to plan my life in far greater detail than previously. Even something as simple as buying something for dinner needs me to be very time-aware, rather than operate in my old cavalier attitude to everything.

This rule has also applied to drinking establishments. In Glasgow, one is spoilt for choice. There are hundreds, if not thousands, of bars of all shapes and sizes catering for every taste possible. However you feel on a night out, you are liable to find a bar to match; from the down to earth working class drinking den (The Beechings for example) up to posh, late-night piano bars (Blue Dog) or massive 'superbars' like Lloyds Number One or Stavka. Many of them are very close to each other, so you can even have a 'buffet-style' approach, having a little bit of everything you feel like.

Broadford is a very different proposition. Having a 'nose' for such things, I quickly ascertained that there are only a few pubs in the town. There is the Hebridean, the Claymore, the Crowlin Bar at the Dunollie Hotel and the newly refurbished Gabbro Bar at the recently bought-over Broadford Hotel. In the interests of fairness, I felt it prudent to test-drive each of these establishments before coming to a decision about which one would be awarded the dubious honour of being named my local.

First off was the Claymore. I had been in here before for dinner, and had really enjoyed the food. My return visit was equally pleasant - including some squat lobsters - but I did feel that the ambience was more akin to a restaurant than to a pub (not that that is a complaint you understand). I resolved to revisit it off-season to see if there was a noticeable difference. I shall keep you posted!

Next up was the bar at the Hebridean Hotel. http://www.hebrideanhotel.co.uk
I was lucky enough to visit on one of the regular Karaoke nights. The place was lively, and the crowd of regulars seemed to be having a ball. Plenty of other customers drifted in for a quick one or two, and there was a nice if somewhat tranquil atmosphere. If I was looking for somewhere to take my parents for a wee drink, this could be just the job.

The Crowlin Bar at the Dunollie Hotel was the next port of call. I don't think I have ever seen it empty; there always seems to be someone at the bar. It has regular band nights, and a quiz over the winter months (Shut iiiiiiiiiitttttttt!). It reminds me a lot of a number of pubs in Glasgow - the kind you might go into on your way home of a Friday, and pour yourself out of in the early hours of Saturday morning hankering for a large donner. I think I will be back in here!

And last of all we come to the Gabbro Bar at the Broadford. From what I can gather, the hotel had been going downhill for a wee while now, but was recently bought over and is undergoing a complete refurbishment. There has certainly been a huge amount of work ongoing since I got here. The Gabbro was one of the first bits done. It is very smart, with a decent size bar, a good amount of tables, a couple of nice comfy couches, a couple of plasma TVs, a pool room, a wee 'snug' type area. And they sell Magners too! Result! On the downside, the place still has that 'brand new' smell and feel about it, but hopefully that will sort itself out soon enough. The toilets need 'finishing' too - they are clean enough and all that, but are still awaiting that final lick of paint etc.

The entertainment is fairly decent too, with bands every week, a dj quite often (I want to say Dodgy Dex, but that can't be right, can it???) and a weekly quiz on a Thursday (Shut iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit! again). The bar menu seems reasonable, and the neighbouring bistro is doing good trade and attracting decent word-of-mouth. They have a good value carvery on a Sunday afternoon/evening, and have scheduled some 'themed' food nights (Steak Night, Curry Night....). I am looking forward to seeing how the rest of the hotel turns out.

So, which bar has taken the title? Whilst I will definitely be back to all of them, the proof of the pudding is in the eating, and actions speak louder than words, or so they say. And most of the time when I have been out on the town I have been in the Gabbro Bar, and have thoroughly enjoyed myself too - as have my visitors!

(Were anyone to bump into me in there, bottle of Magners - with ice)

I just wanted to take an opportunity to vent.

I was home in Glasgow this weekend. On the way down, after lucking out and being right behind a snowplough on the road over the hills between Cluanie and Invergarry, we got stuck for ages coming down the Blackmount from Glencoe/Rannoch Moor towards Bridge of Orchy. I don't know quite what had happened, but someone had managed to block the road and while the police were sorting it the snow kept piling up on the road and then for some daft reason they sent the uphill cars off first. They were crawling up and sliding all over the place. We were about an hour and a half late into Glasgow.

On the way back up earlier tonight, there was a bad accident on the road into Fort William holding us up for about 40 minutes. By the time we got to Fort William, we only had about 10 minutes between buses, and there was nowhere to get a drink/food/do the toilet. The bus for Skye was leaking VERY badly through the roof, almost got blown off the Skye Bridge and then dropped me off about 1/4 mile short of the bus stop - I got SOAKED walking back to the car.

To say I'm in FOUL humour would be an understatement.

Urban driving has a certain stigma for those used to driving in the country. Too much traffic, too many roads, traffic lights, motorways - the list is endless. Driving in the country, they say, is far easier.

I'm not so sure.

In October, driving up overnight from Glasgow, I encountered one of the uniquely rural driving hazards - a deer. As I came over the road from Invergarry to Cluanie, there were loads of them about. Being painfully aware of them, and driving exceptionally carefully, I still managed to hit one. It jumped down from the 'high' side of the road just as I came to the same piece of road and I had no chance to avoid it. Fortunately for me, there was no damage to the car, and there was no sign of the deer, so I assume there was no damage to it either. I was like a cat on a hot tin roof as I finished the rest of the drive, and was doing ridiculous things like driving in the centre of the road as much as I could before I realised that if I'd been in the centre of the road when the deer appeared it would probably have come in the windscreen on top of me. My confidence was really shot.

Some of the locals told me about a whistle you could get for the car at our local garage that 'repelled' deer. I wasn't sure if they were winding me up or not, but I went and asked anyway. "Oh yeah," the guy said, "but we don't have any in stock just now." I wasn't sure if he was being serious, or in on the wind-up. Later in the month, when some deer repelling whistles appeared in the garage, I figured he was being serious, and decided that they would be well worth the 拢7 investment when I got paid at the end of November.

I was reminded of this yesterday as I was reading about a driver who was killed by a deer that the car in front of him had hit. It came through the windscreen of his car, and he didn't have a chance.

And so we come to today.

I had to go to Inverness for a conference. I left Skye just before 7, when it was still night-time dark. The weather was atrocious. The road by Lochcarron is very like the Invergarry/Cluanie road, but worse. It twists and turns more, has more ups and downs, the trees are closer to the road and it is single track for a lot of the time. I was really nervous as I drove over it, but once I got down the hill, I started to feel better. As the weather eased, and the daylight came I felt even more relieved. Once I turned on to the nice, new bit of road I figured I was home free. "That's the bad bit over" I thought to myself.

As I'm sure you can guess, that's when it happened.

A deer appeared on the road right in front of me - I'm not sure if it jumped up from the ditch or down from the hill, but there was no chance of avoiding it. I hit it pretty hard, and it smashed the windscreen on the passenger side, damaged my front wing and door and destroyed the wing mirror. The rear wing got damaged as well.

My pay doesn't go in till tomorrow. I should have bought a deer whistle with a cheque.

I pulled over, and with the help of some passing firemen, got the deer corpse off the road. I was totally scunnered by what had happened, but I suppose I should count my blessings. Thinking of the newspaper report from earlier this week, things could have turned out a lot worse.

Give me urban driving any time.

To cap it all, when I got to the hotel, the conference had been cancelled.