A couple of days ago the Arran ferry crashed into the pier at Ardrossan. All sailings were cancelled on Wednesday while they were awaiting a replacement vessel from Campbeltown (good name). The new boat was called the Isle of Arran - strange that this wasn't the route it was being used on.
Typical of my recent slack attitude that I didn't check if it was running today. Of course it was, but the initial backlog from yesterday and the fact that it was a smaller boat meant it was running late all day. The gangways didn't fit, so we had to enter and exit through the car deck. It was all a bit hit and miss. Still, we got to the island, albeit a little late.
I'd planned to get a cake and some coffee and write my postcards - that part of the plan went fine. I even made the post - I heard they for there the next day. The drizzle lifted somewhat and I had a quick walk and took in the sight of Goat Fell revealed across the bay. But it was becoming clear I was going to get back later than planned. The return ferry was looking like it was going to be more than an hour late. Ok, I was going to miss City v Porto, but that wasn't the end of the world.
There was a chippy nearby so I opted for cheesy chips for tea - I still had an emergency can of Irn Bru. There was even an abandoned copy of the Scottish Daily Mail - the only time I'll read that hate-filled rag. Besides, it's the writers not the readers who give the paper a bad name.
Er, no. Take a look at Exhibit A reproduced at the foot of this entry.
My only real prob was that the trains back to Glasgow from the harbour were so infrequent. We were going to be late enough that I wouldn't have much of a wait for the next one but it would miss the connection back to Polmont where I was staying. A quick look at the timetable showed that there was an earlier train from the town centre. If I got a move on I could make that.
I disembarked and jogged to town, getting there in plenty of time. Or so I thought. I checked the timetable again and discovered that it was an earlier one that started on town - I wanted the one from South Beach, the next stop. 3 minutes - I couldn't possibly make it.
And that's what I thought all the while I was jogging to the next station, setting myself up to fail. Even when I saw a train moving as I turned the corner I convinced myself it was departing rather than arriving. By the time I realised my mistake it definitely was too late. If I had just kept running I would have made it. I was being taunted by a train-shaped metaphor for my life so far.
But then I did what I always do and moped for a while and then came up with s creative solution. I had time to kill so why not go to nearby Largs and look for evidence of the cheeseboat?
Well, that's exactly what I did and I found it! There's a photo below. I had to look through the railings at the station so I'm afraid it's not very clear, what with it being covered in pickle and it being dark. But if you squint you can just make it out.
And the moral of this story is: always have cheese on your chips.
More soonliest.
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