Tuesday: Drove up to Cawdor, stopping en route at Dunkeld for lunch, in a cosy little cafe featuring home-made everything. We had stovies, Scottish comfort food. It's sometimes made with mince, but this one had sausages. Arrived safely at the farm to a lovely warm welcome and a cup of tea.
After letting Bertie out for a sprint around a field and freshening up, we headed off to the Cawdor Tavern, where Jenny and John treated us all to a birthday dinner (Andrew's birthday is the same day as mine). It was a wonderful meal -- I had pork on a bed of leeks in a creamy blue cheese sauce. Mmmmm.

Wednesday: After breakfast, Faye, Bertie and I went on a family pilgrimage to Urquhart, the village where Mum's granny was born. It was raining heavily, so we stopped in Elgin on the way and bought umbrellas. It stopped raining immediately. It was still cold though. We had a brisk walk around Urquhart and visited the cemetary before heading back to Elgin for a late lunch. Then we visited Jenny at the Nairn Museum, where she's manager. It's closed at the moment so they can treat dry rot in the roof. Back at the farm I had a lie down for a couple of hours -- I was fighting off a cold -- so I'd be fresh for the evening's activities. Which were: a delicious meal cooked by Andrew and his special birthday treat, tickets to Harry Potter! We went to an evening session so as not to stand out too much. Heh.

Thursday: On Wednesday I somehow thought I had another couple of days left. But no, it was already time to head home. We had a walk round the garden and the farm, and Bertie had a last romp in a field -- so many smells, so little time. Then we had lunch with the whole family and finally packed up the car and left. We drove straight back, no stopping, because I was feeling pretty bad by then. Faye and I made a nice simple meal and ate it. Had a bath, took Bertie for a ramble, watched The Sopranos and fell into bed.

So I had a great time, Faye had a great time and Bertie had ... not such a great time. He enjoyed the walks, but apparently barked and cried all night. I say apparently because he was in a faraway part of the house, next to Andrew, who didn't get much sleep. Bertie doesn't eat when he's upset, so by the time we got home he was famished. He threw himself on his food and ate and drank hugely, then flung himself down and slept like a dead dog.

I'm pleased to be home too!