Loch Lomond

In my quest to go to some very Scottish places whilst Chris is over from America, we decided to take a drive over to Loch Lomond.

My friend Sarah and her band-mate were over the night before we headed out, and demanded that I let him hear the famous song played by Runrig and the likes. Apparently my own singing wasn’t good enough. Psht.

What made the whole thing that bit cooler is that the place back in Colorado that Chris’s family own is called the ‘Bonnie Brae Tavern’, and Loch Lomond actually contains the alliterated words themselves.

It was a typical dreich day, but the loch is still rather impressive.

Just after this picture, the girl below was climbing along the edge of the jetty here, and her dad was telling her that she would fall into the water and die and he would have to go back and tell her mum he lost their daughter at Loch Lomond and asking how she’d feel about that.

A tad over-dramatic I would suggest.

There’s some pretty cool looking ‘abandoned’ old, burned out buildings round about the Loch… I think this used to be some sort of mechanic by the looks of things. I always wanted to take over some empty place like this and do something with it. I’ve no idea what. But something. It seems crazy that these places can be left to just fall apart forever because somebody still technically owns the land, but is clearly never going to do anything with it.

We also came across this weird looking person-shaped thing slumped against the side of the tree. You may have been able to guess from the pear in the background, but this is in the grounds of a Primary School.

Yeah, exactly.

I’ve been a bit fed up the past few days. Fed up and stressed out about hoping and expecting other people to make an effort in keeping up with or taking an interest in things. Chris has had the pleasure of me drinking a lot and telling him all this, which is possibly why he looks angry below.

It’s perhaps something to do with the fact that without a whole lot of trust, time and money, there’s no way that I would have been able to go to America in the first place to stay with people who I had only met once before when they stayed with me in Glasgow… and now Chris is here for a month… and yet people who are just down the road can’t even bring themselves to reply to a text because they’re too busy. I think if you genuinely care about someone else, you’ll make time.

You never know how much something as small as a text or can mean to somebody else.

We found a strange burned out tree.

Perhaps it’s linked to the weird person-shaped thing we saw in the school. Maybe they set fire to people who don’t take part in PE or something, and it was to act as a warning.

Ever fearless, Chilli swims out to confront the ducks that had been heading towards us.

(Daz may have thrown her in to coax her into action)

… and with that, another famous Scottish feature ticked off.

edit: Shortly after posting this, I received the following texts from my friend Pazy:

“Very heart [sic] deep blog post ya gay so… see next text”

“A small text x”

Bastard.

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