As you will likely guess the problem with coming from the most remote part of the mainland UK is that it's a pain in the ass to get to. 12hrs drive later, lots of bad (and expensive) service station coffee and some very red eyes and finally I was as far north as I could go...and home. Things are just as mad as ever in Borgie. The farm house sits down a remote track but never-the-less always seems to be full with my brother's farming cronies and other randoms. A thousand old cars and tractors (with various bits removed) lie outside and chickens, dogs and pet lambs all chase each other around outside. While the conversation inside is fixed firmly on shooting deer, poaching salmon and which car my brother is going to buy next. In
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