I'd just finished preparing for a trip to Orkney where I'll be joining an archeological dig with the University of the Highlands and Islands, UHI (my uni). Orkney College is one of the UHI's partner colleges and the hub of it's archeology department. I'd volunteered to join a work team for two weeks, learning the skills of excavation at the UNESCO world heritage site at Ness of Brodgar.
Waterproofs, sunhat, trowel and clothing laid out and ready, I hopped into the car and set off for town, quite delighted with myself. I was zooming out of Muir of Ord, running through final preparations in my head, and that was when Marco (my beloved VW) tried to murder me.
One minute the summer sun was shining on my face, the next, Marco's bonnet was smashing into my windscreen. It was like a vehicular moine thrust.
The bonnet's lock mechanism had failed - by which I mean it disintegrated in a metallic love affair with oxygen - and the bonnet caught the wind like a sail. It had buckled like a child's cheap shoe. I didn't really need a mechanic to tell me the bonnet had to be replaced, as did the windscreen.
And just two days before a 150 mile drive and sail to the northern isles.
Luckily I managed to get the windscreen replaced and the bonnet tied down. It's ugly, but functional. So I'm setting off this morning into the pouring rain.Wish me better luck?
|Marco. He's seen better days. What's more appropriate when working on an archeological dig than to arrive driving a relic?|