The day started out sunny. We were headed down to our former wee village to visit our friend Al, and since we hadn’t been there for a while my husband and I were looking forward to a nice catch-up and a tasty lunch at my favorite village cafe’. There weren’t that many tourist RVs between us and our destination, so the driving was easy… until we were enveloped in fog. Peering through the windshield I slowed the car way down. Lots of cyclists are on the road this time of year, and in fog that thick it would be far too easy to drive right over someone before I knew they were there. Not wanting to ruin someone’s vacation in such an abrupt and painful manner, I crept along southward with care.
Normally this is a view of the sparkling sea, not this fluffy cottony fog-blanket!
As we climbed to ever-higher elevations and breached the fog we saw a rare sight below: the Moray Firth under a thick white blanket. While we get a lot of mist and fog here it doesn’t usually settle in quite that way, and it was beautiful. We pulled over when we could (along with lots of other folks) and Sem took a few snaps before we continued on. As we dropped down into the village, the fog began thinning out, and the day was once again sunny and glorious. The Highlands can be like that – completely unpredictable conditions around every turn!
It was so lovely to be back. We picked up Al and headed out to lunch. The proprietor of the cafe’ took our order, and after we’d finished eating he sat down with us for a bit. We became friendly years ago when he first opened – I wrote a piece about his cafe’ for a local online publication and we’ve been pals ever since. He and his family now live in the house Sem used to own; it is attached to the cafe’, which is handy! Stuffed as usual, with no room for dessert (such a shame, because his desserts are delicious), we eventually said our goodbyes and Sem and Al headed for the car. I had to stop in at the shop next door. All I needed was a bottle of water for the drive home, but what I got was so much more.
When I walked in to the shop young Billy did a double-take from behind the counter and said a cheery and surprised, “Hi, Deb!” He was ringing up his grandmother’s purchases. Maggie, who is a bit infamous in the village for her various ‘adventures’ whilst enjoying her tipple, turned toward me and smiled with delight. “Debbie,” she exclaimed (why do all the old dears call me Debbie?), “how nice to see you!” To my great surprise she gave me a big hug and we chatted and joked for a minute or two. Another shop assistant asked after Sem and wanted to know how we like it up in Wick. After a brief ‘blether’ with her I headed farther into the shop for my water.
But then Ann was standing in front of me, her face alight with friendliness. She is one of my favorite people. Long ago she worked as a receptionist at the doctor’s office. “When you rang the surgery and Ann answered, you felt better just hearing her voice,” Al once said, and I can see why. She is one of the most caring, sincerely interested and friendliest people I have ever met. A real Highland ‘wifie’ with a heart of gold and a smile like sunshine. What tickled me the most is that she *almost* hugged me: she took a step closer and started to reach towards me, but then that natural Highland reserve kicked in and instead she turned up the wattage on her already big smile. “And how’s Himself,” she asked, as she always has. I told her that Himself was well and in fact was right outside in the car, if she was headed past that way. By the time I’d been rung up by another cheerful cashier wishing me a happy anniversary (she’d seen a Facebook post I’d written), Ann was outside searching for our car, and once she found it she and Sem spent a happy few minutes catching up as well.
It felt like coming home. Considering it took me so many years to win over the village locals, that friendly, genuine reception was a tonic. Because we are seldom back for a visit, it’s just a matter of luck as to whether or not we run into friends out and about in the village; sometimes we hardly see anyone, while other times we are more fortunate. For a place where I once felt (and was) utterly friendless, it sure does feel – now – like one of the friendliest places on Earth. It’s a small village which has both pros and cons: on the one hand, everyone gets to know everyone else, so there is an intimacy to the place which isn’t found in larger towns. On the other hand, everyone likes to know everyone’s business in detail, often adding “facts” even if they have to make them up entirely, which can get tiresome!
Color not adjusted – this is just another hue on the ever-changing sea-palette.
But small, close-knit villages definitely have their charm. Our friend Al told us that the week before, there was a knock on his door. He answered thinking it was a cousin who was stopping by but instead it was an unfamiliar woman, looking at him quizzically. She said, “Are you Al?” He replied in the affirmative and she said, “I was once the girlfriend of your friend David, oh, at least 45 years ago. We recently got in touch again and when I mentioned I was coming here on holiday he said I should look you up.”
One small part of Al’s collection of ‘Despicable Me’ characters.
She was staying down near the harbor in her caravan and after having lunch she’d stopped at the local shop to ask about Al. “Everyone knew you,” she said, “and they all told me you are lovely and that I should definitely come and say hello, so here I am!” Al invited her in for a cuppa and she stayed to chat until his cousin arrived. That’s how it is, in these small Highland villages. If you’re passing through they’re as helpful and friendly as the day is long… and if you move there and are accepted as part of the village, they don’t forget you if you leave, and welcome you back with pleasure.
It gave us a bit of a wistful pang, being back. Sem and I both miss our little village very much, though we try not to dwell on it. The good thing is, it’s only 40 miles away and with the better weather it’s not a chore to go down for a few hours. It did us both good, not just the visit with Al, but to see other folks who know us, too. I’d forgotten how nice it is to just be out among people we know, all happy to stop for a catch-up. We don’t have that up in the far north yet, though I hope that one day we will. Until then it’s good to know that friends and former neighbors are glad to see us when we go a-visiting.
Pink-wrapped bales, part of fund-raising efforts for breast cancer awareness.
When we got home later that afternoon a village friend wrote sadly on Facebook, “I missed you again!” She made me promise that we would let her know in advance the next time we were coming down. I said I would, and I will. I’m toying with the idea of asking her if she’d like to meet for lunch, and telling her to invite anyone else who might want to come, too. But even though I’ve known her from almost my first day in the village when I arrived out of the blue ten years ago, I think it would still be too forward and presumptuous of me to extend such an invitation.
It is, after all, the Highlands. There’s warmth and friendliness… but there are proper standards of propriety that must be upheld, too!
