The long drive back from Thurso to Paxton, collecting the Stags head and stopping off at Dumbar to run Sam and have a break.
Stan Bertin (husband of our late Mum's youngest sister) had died suddenly, and the funeral might be that very day and so I could not go.
News from the by-election was not too good either as we were losing ground to the Conservatives
We had planned an early start, but it was only 3.30am when Diana called me. After too much alcohol last night and too little sleep all week, I was even more reluctant than usual to heed the call. Some grumpiness, therefore, from me initially until we had got everything loaded up and were ready to set off.
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To manage, we had loaded as much as possible into the roof-box and again stacked Sam's travel box on top of three plastic packing crates; loading all of the rest of the stuff each side to leave the back seat clear. The journey back was much harder than that up - with all those windy Highland roads to cope with.
We struggled on and eventually were able to telephone Mr & Mrs Jamieson to let them know we had nearly arrived and were soon expected for collecting the stag. With their help, we just managed to squeeze the beast's head into the back of the car and were able to proceed. Plenty of stops for the rest of the journey, including our favourite at Dunbar where Sam could get his run and us our snack break.
It was early evening before we eventually arrived and, for my part, I was shattered after driving 630 more miles and just about "car-lagged". Unpacked to find the girls and Daniel all right and then to try and catch up on what was happening. Most upsetting was a scrappy half message from Freda to say that she thought that Stan Bertin (husband of our late Mum's youngest sister) had died suddenly, and the funeral might be that very day.
I phoned Freda but she had found out no more (nor, I suspect, had she tried very hard) and so, tired that I was, I felt I had to telephone Lorna's house and find out what was happening. I eventually spoke to her son John who told me that Stan had a stroke earlier in the month which left him virtually brain dead and he had died last Sunday and, yes, the funeral had taken place this day in Kettering.
I was a bit disappointed not to have heard properly. It seems all too common, as I have bemoaned before, that funerals are organised too soon and without proper time for the relatives to be told and invited to the funeral. Freda was also not much help but there it was, and nothing could be done or said.
News from the by-election was not too good either as we were losing ground to the Conservatives after they had circulated a good leaflet and I had to think about how to get things back on the rails. Not much else I could do except collapse into bed early with Diana after getting her up to get me a bed-time drink whilst I put the guns and ammunition safely into my security safes. Sam had behaved very well today for the journey and was no trouble