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Driven to distraction
Pondering what to declaim about this week, I had little doubt the roads to and from Argyll were worth consideration.
One of the great attractions of Oban is the fact no motorway leads to and from it. However, therein lies a considerable frustration and one which becomes all the more pronounced as the tourist season gathers pace: the very time it takes to get here.
Driving back to Oban at the weekend, after a few days away, turned out to be a considerably irritating trip from the central belt, purely as a result of the proverbial Sunday drivers, who seem to be in their element in motoring so slowly that they cheese off everyone else on the road.
In fairness, it has to be acknowledged we are blessed by living in such a glorious place that so many people wish to visit the area. However, while such tourists are welcome, the very least they could do is glance in their wing mirrors occasionally, notice the queues behind them and pull over to let the quicker traffic pass.
I was at a friend’s funeral last week in Stirling. Ian Duncan had been an extraordinary athlete, even into his later years, when Parkinson’s stole his ability to compete in triathlons and other ultra competitions.
At the wake following the ceremony, I met a few of Ian’s athletic friends, who had conglomerated under the name of The Cherrypickers, when they travelled the country to take part in various events in their sporting genre.
Reminiscing about our late friend, one of the Cherrypickers said, to general acclaim from the rest of the group, that their favourite watering hole was the Lorne Whisky Pub and Kitchen here in Oban.
Well done Declan and Debbie for providing such a warm welcome.
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