We had cycled for miles, mainly powered by TPR at the front of our tandem. Eventually we reached the tatty high street of a once-prosperous highland town. It would have attracted tourists in another age; now it looked very forlorn. Many of the businesses were boarded up, and the accommodation on offer was hardly tempting.
TPR turned right at the end of the row shops and powered us up the hill. In complete contrast with the businesses below, here stood a gleaming, palatial hotel.
‘This will do for us’, declared TPR as I spotted the £650 a night price tag.
Eventually I agreed that it was good value. This was when the waitress revealed herself as a graduate of Queen Margaret College, remembered me from her student days, and showed me several photos of the pair of us on an excursion with international students in the early 1990s.