10th May: Forres

By now I had noticed that I was so far into my trip away that it was easier to see the end than the beginning, which is always a disappointing point to reach. It also meant that I was getting near the point where I was no longer on holiday, but would have responsibilities to meet.

I woke early, still being on Titirangi time, and did my usual early morning walk, putting on my scarf and colourful jumper, and hoping for an adventure. I walked to the nearest signpost which told me Forres was in the direction I had just come from, but 3 miles down the road. I walked towards Forres doing various calculations to work out how far 3 miles was in real money. I eventually concluded it was probably too far to walk, at least both ways. At about the same time as I decided this, a lady stopped her car and asked if I wanted a lift, so of course I said yes. She asked me what part of Forres I was heading to, and I had to admit I didn’t really know and didn’t care either. I wasn’t careless, but care free. She took me to Tesco, where I ambled happily up and down the aisles – I had not been in many shops until now, as I was mostly with other people, so did things that suited several people simultaneously, which supermarket shopping generally does not do. I think I got that right – not sure. This was quite a sweet lady called Mrs Salt or something, and she was very trusting, asking me to keep an eye on her bag while she checked out a different aisle. Why she thought a perfect stranger wouldn’t steal from her is beyond me, but as it happens, I didn’t. She was most upset as she had especially come to town (I do not use the word ‘town’ advisedly in this case) to get some baking ingredients, and it being a Sunday, she was not able to buy any Guinness for her cake. I was impressed. She drove me around Forres, pointing out various sites such as the Findhorn Foundation, the academy, and a couple of statues. She dropped me off at the gate of Marcassie farm and I walked back to Betsy and Sven for breakfast. I told them I had been out walking and described the places I had been. They were quite impressed, but then I admitted I had hitch-hiked, as I was beginning to feel a bit guilty. I’m not very good at subterfuge, which is why I don’t work for British Rail.

After breakfast Betsy and I did some work about the place, sort of cleaning and organising work, and our mutual friend John came to see us. It was wonderful sitting and talking with him, as I did not know him very well, and I enjoyed the opportunity of getting to know him better. He is a wise and good man – in fact everyone I met was both wise and good, which had me wondering about the rest of the Scottish population. After we had cleaned and organised ourselves, I took a photo of some of our work, and then Betsy took me for a drive to Findhorn Bay and through the Findhorn community.

The Findhorn community is famous for the founders’ ability to grow enormous cabbages. I mentioned this to Mrs Salt, who said it was the manure they used (she called it shit), and not (as others have said) their ability to work with spiritual energy and the local devas. I didn’t see any large cabbages, but I did see the legacy of the founders, which was eco-housing and a large community devoted to spiritual quests. The village of Findhorn itself was a quaint old fishing village and reminded me of Ullapool on the west side of Scotland.

When we got back we walked for a long time around the farms and hills, and saw a hare and a couple of deer on our travels. Somehow, and I still don’t know how she arranged it, we ended up at the back of the farm, even though we had left at the front. You might not think this is significant, but I am pretty sure we crossed the road, and I don’t know how she got rid of the road in order to arrive at the back again. If she reads this and leaves a comment, I might finally know how she did it. Perhaps, like Deb, she is amazingly clever, and can rearrange all kinds of things to suit herself. Sven helped me figure out how to leave while Betsy cooked dinner – a delicious arrangement of local organic vegetables with some beans. We agreed that I would take an early train from Forres to Glasgow, instead of staying in Edinburgh, as the bags were a real drag (pun intended) and I didn’t want to have them when I was exploring Roslin Chapel, which was my next important point of call.

I stayed up late, catching up on my emails again, and managed to lose my PDA cord somewhere, although I didn’t know it at the time. This turned out to be quite a problem, as Palms are not common in Britain (Palm PDAs that is, not the inner hand), and I was unable to buy a replacement. This meant that I had to use my Palm sparingly, so could not beam photos from my mobile phone anymore. Funny how a little piece of cord can be so important.