Oh, Where oh Where Did My Yellow Bag Go!

We finished yesterday without any more news on the yellow bag so we started today on the watch. Karen had an online meeting, which set us on to a discussion about online meetings. But the nagging situation of the lost bag took over. We called British Airlines again and became actors in another comedy scene. “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot hear you.”  And again. “I’m going to end this call, sir, because I cannot hear you.” And a second call, John out in the garden in fairly freezing weather wearing only a golf shirt, shouting slowly (and calmly) through the cold and wind. And then the BA rep wanting numbers that were on a notepad we’d left in the car. Me, grab keys, run to the car, get notebook. Back to the cold garden. Read the numbers. Him, “Now here’s your reference number.” Me, running to the kitchen to get a pen. Back to the cold garden. Write the numbers. And him, finally, “It usually takes 48 hours to deliver a bag.”  That would be today, which means that we will be waiting here until it arrives, enjoying Karen’s hospitality, garden, and animals. This might be the best garden we’ll see this trip! (Have had to cancel our reunion for golf today with Peter, our first golfer friend in Scotland, however. Will reschedule for the end of the trip.)

At 11:30, we saw movement on the bag tracker! By noon, we got an email that the bag would be delivered soon. But alas, the hours passed as we watched via air tag, my bag in the back of a nameless van go from house to house 20 miles away all over Edinburgh. Karen waited anxiously with us, then had to leave for an apt. We said our last goodbyes in case this was it for our visit. She assured us that we we welcome another night, if needed. Finally, an email message said we’d receive our bag by 2, but at 5 the driver called, lost and searching for the Standingstone Farm. I stood in the street and guided him in, a young kid, fresh out of uni and trying so hard. They’d given him a double load because there were so many lost bags with the new and improved luggage handling system. We were packed and ready to go in a minute and I was just writing a note to Karen when she appeared with two cards for us. One said, “Silly Gift” and the other said, “Another one.” We were so surprised. They were toy punch outs of birds to assemble. How adorable, We were so happy to say goodbye with more hugs.

On the road, we made good time, all of three hours right to the door of TIgh Na Bruach  or *Friendly Lodge” in Gallic. We’re in Scots-land now and got the proper Gallic welcome, Cead Mile Failte. After meeting Annie, our host, and the whole family, we walked down the hill. The town is quaint with just one-street and one stop light. Up the street, across the wee bridge was the Duke of Gordon Hotel, a very happening place. We walked into a greeting of—“The kitchen closes in 15 minutes. You must order now.” Next to us, a fellow in a kilt was chatting up the older ladies and a men’s group in the next room was singing “Bloomin’ Heather.” I was in Heaven. Turned out, the local golf club was having their night out drinking and singing everything they knew. We loved it! We ordered food and drinks for us and eventually and extra glass of wine for the captain of the golf club— as thanks. Then we talked golf until The Duke closed and walked back up the hill to TIgh Na Bruaich where our room was warm and all our things were laid out as we left them. Very cozy. Good night.