f4f3 | On The Road, Day Two (Written yesterday, on the plane)

I’ve always been in the habit of waking up early, but I’ve also always been able to get back to sleep really easily. That hasn’t been working for the last month or so, but this morning I had reason to be grateful for it. I was awake at seven, and showered, packed and ready to leave by 8. Even after a little walk down to where Alness keeps its river, I was on the road South by 9.30.

The A9, which runs down the Eastern side of Scotland (I say that, but it doesn’t actually hit the cost until Edinburgh) is much more modern and faster than the old A82, which follows the line of the Great Glen up the Western side. It’s also a lot more austere than the 82 – the views on this route aren’t the Lochs and Glens of the West, they’re the high Cairngorm Mountains, Scotland’s ski area (oh, and best line from last night, from my cousin’s wife to him: “What was the name of that hill we went up at Fort William?” “That would be Ben Nevis”).

It’s 170 miles from Alness to Edinburgh Airport – I was told to budget three and a half hours for the trip, and leaving at 9.30 would put me there three hours early for my flight. Still, I like airports…

It did end up taking me almost exactly three and a half hours. I could have driven it more quickly, but I’d been warned about the speed cameras, and unmarked police cars, so I kept to 65 in the 60 zones, 75 in the 70s (of which there are only a few – the road is mostly single carriageway).

So I was in Edinburgh early, early enough to consider conning my friend Marie into offering me a hot tub. I decided against it, though (did I mention I like airports? And I had a phone call to make). I was fumbling for my car park reservation when I noticed that the sign at the turnstile said “Welcome Mr Mooney”. It’s a perfect implementation of combining information I’d given them, and number plate recognition. Perfect enough to surprise me, and slightly creep me out. Computers are getting smarter. Last time I used that carpark, there was a reception desk, staffed 24 hours a day. So probably three jobs are gone. And was the parking charge lower? Nope.

And now (phone call made and Boots meal deal purchased) I’m on the plane to Prague. Well, not now, obviously, when you’re reading this. Now, when I’m writing it. We’re about half way through the flight, so I’ll be landing in about an hour. I mailed Bill to tell him I was on the way, and he’s meeting me at the airport, which is very nice of him. No idea what I’ll be doing for the next three days. My flight back to London is at 6 on Wednesday, which will involve a taxi at Stupid O’Clock, and then I have a couple of days in London town. Then back to Scotland, and then, on Monday the 14th, to Providence Rhode Island. Yes, it’s confirmed. I have a flight booked, but no accommodation.

Right now, I have the feeling that my life is bereft of choices. I’m floating (literally, at this moment) wafted back and forward by whatever winds take me. That’s something I’ll try and enjoy for the next 5 weeks. Make no decisions, buy no bridges (but don’t burn any either). Whenever I touch down, I’ll have a good look around, but I’ll also make sure I enjoy the trip.

I’m at 35,000 feet, someone else is steering, and I know that somewhere in my future there is a cup of strong Czech coffee. Which is about all we have any right to ask from a future.