So I'm leaving India for a blog about life in a tent. It's been a wild month since returning to the 'real' world of the UK. Well not like snakes, tigers and elephants wild. Nor hedonistic partying or extreme revelry wild. In fact the only wild thing happening is that I live in the wild. Well not even that wild but I do sleep in my tent now. Pre-tell why a tent? I've got no other place to sleep is the shortest answer, here's the longer one.
Once upon a time I had a job. That job was working in a bar. In that bar I met a woman and we became friends. Funny that, me making friends with a lady in a bar. Now this woman had a dream that was filled with tea and cake. MMMM cake. Said dream is now a reality in the form of a tea and cake shop in Pitlochry. Pitwhatry? Small Scottish town pertaining to the travelling octogenarians and world travellers alike. Seems to be a half way house for the masses on the move north and south of Scotland.
Quaint wee place crawling with touristy traps. However none as successful as ours. Like the ingenious carrot on a stick the powers that be came up with cake in the window! Like the Klingon's masterful tractor beam, the tearoom Hettie's, which I am running for the summer, has an intense power that draws people through the door. No, I'm not talking about me, I'm talking about layers of cakes, muffins and scones, the lure of calorie indecency, the sugar buzz needed to help the weary tourist on their way.
It's a daily occurrence to think that a bird has hit one of our windows. When, in actual fact, it's another hapless wanderer being drawn into a cake paradise. But what has all this got to do with me in a tent? Well Pitlochry is not very well connected to the real world. I had the choice of a three hour commute a day, splashing all the cash I'm going to save getting a car or living in my tent. I chose the latter. For the next five months, after travelling in one of the world's largest tea producing countries, I'm now a tea peddler myself.
I'm lucky considering the last three weeks have been Scotland's summer. So my tent and I are enjoying a renaissance of warm evenings and no rain. The birds poop on my tent and I smile, the bees buzz merrily around me and I become entranced in there wondrous flight, even the cat's trying to get laid I salute at 3 in the the morning. I'm worried that my tent living fantasy bubble will be shattered when summer starts proper!
When it's constantly drizzling, the winds are howling, the bees sting and the midge make an appearance perhaps bricks and mortar will become more appealing. But I doubt it. My reputation as the one who lives in a tent is growing. I'm going to clean my BBQ and get the summer furniture arranged so I can have guests. Every night still feels like I'm on holiday. So it's good times for me. It also means this blog will be a sporadic indulgence between past and present rambles.
Will it make it better? Me thinks not, however, we all want variety in our lives. Not a monotonous drone of similar verbal expulsions. But a waterfall of colourful indecencies, cascading over a precipice, spraying delight and wonder into our face. This is what I'll strive for you my reader.
Till then ramble on...................
Once upon a time I had a job. That job was working in a bar. In that bar I met a woman and we became friends. Funny that, me making friends with a lady in a bar. Now this woman had a dream that was filled with tea and cake. MMMM cake. Said dream is now a reality in the form of a tea and cake shop in Pitlochry. Pitwhatry? Small Scottish town pertaining to the travelling octogenarians and world travellers alike. Seems to be a half way house for the masses on the move north and south of Scotland.
Quaint wee place crawling with touristy traps. However none as successful as ours. Like the ingenious carrot on a stick the powers that be came up with cake in the window! Like the Klingon's masterful tractor beam, the tearoom Hettie's, which I am running for the summer, has an intense power that draws people through the door. No, I'm not talking about me, I'm talking about layers of cakes, muffins and scones, the lure of calorie indecency, the sugar buzz needed to help the weary tourist on their way.
It's a daily occurrence to think that a bird has hit one of our windows. When, in actual fact, it's another hapless wanderer being drawn into a cake paradise. But what has all this got to do with me in a tent? Well Pitlochry is not very well connected to the real world. I had the choice of a three hour commute a day, splashing all the cash I'm going to save getting a car or living in my tent. I chose the latter. For the next five months, after travelling in one of the world's largest tea producing countries, I'm now a tea peddler myself.
I'm lucky considering the last three weeks have been Scotland's summer. So my tent and I are enjoying a renaissance of warm evenings and no rain. The birds poop on my tent and I smile, the bees buzz merrily around me and I become entranced in there wondrous flight, even the cat's trying to get laid I salute at 3 in the the morning. I'm worried that my tent living fantasy bubble will be shattered when summer starts proper!
When it's constantly drizzling, the winds are howling, the bees sting and the midge make an appearance perhaps bricks and mortar will become more appealing. But I doubt it. My reputation as the one who lives in a tent is growing. I'm going to clean my BBQ and get the summer furniture arranged so I can have guests. Every night still feels like I'm on holiday. So it's good times for me. It also means this blog will be a sporadic indulgence between past and present rambles.
Will it make it better? Me thinks not, however, we all want variety in our lives. Not a monotonous drone of similar verbal expulsions. But a waterfall of colourful indecencies, cascading over a precipice, spraying delight and wonder into our face. This is what I'll strive for you my reader.
Till then ramble on...................
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