The Scottish tourist organisation are running a promotion for “a perfect day“. And good luck to them.
They have a small, but perfect in every detail, advertising film to go with it.
Our young average, but very well-scrubbed, fit and photogenic couple emerge from the [Notting Hill] Gate Cinema (which just happens to be screening Whisky Galore and Local Hero — as if). A 148 bus for Shepherd’s Bush passes.
Cue Lou Reed:
Oh, it’s such a perfect day –
I’m glad I spend it with you.
Oh, such a perfect day:
You just keep me hanging on,
You just keep me hanging on …
Well, no actually. That’s too depressingly Trainspotting, and not the real Scotland (or, rather, the one they’re selling). What we get is the Waterboys:
I wish I was a fisherman, tumblin’ on the seas,
Far away from dry land and its bitter memories,
Casting out my sweet line with abandonment and love –
No ceiling bearin’ down on me, save the starry sky above,
With light in my head, you in my arms,
As fast as one can Woo! our pair are off, through an anonymous airport, and coming into land on the strand at Barra. Quick plug for British Airways (though that’s a Loganair service in drag).
More clichés to come, all from Vatersay: kayaking with seals, a passing dolphin, running on the sands, fish fresh off the boat, a passing eagle, a barbie on the beach.
Instantly emetic or immensely satisfying
A quarter of a century back, Malcolm, his lady and children were in Oban. It had rained for the last squelching week. Wednesday (why does he remember it was a Wednesday) was promised to be, and dawned bright and fine.
Away on the morning ferry to Mull. Across Mull to Iona, then over crystal water where the fish were clearly visible fathoms below. The Abbey and the burial place of the ancient Kings (and, now, of John Smith, the lost leader). Still a clear day, so on to Staffa and Fingal’s Cave with a low tide.