Off to Scotland later this week. Not sure am doing right thing as very few of the other wives going apparently. Husband, however, wants me to accompany him. Despite the onset of an Indian Summer down south, it is invariably much colder in the far northern reaches, so I imagine I will be shivering in the drizzle as I squat on a damp riverbank watching him flyfish – “Fabulous forward cast darling” (his chest puffing up with pride that he is such an amazing hunter gatherer).
Then breathlessly gasping for air as I clamber up impossibly steep heather-clad hillsides to admire him shoot grouse, while I sweatily swat away persistent hoardes of midges – “Shot darling, shot” (praising his prowess even though he’s actually missed quite a few birds and is getting slightly depressed about his shotgun skills).
Then scratching my scalp (midge bites) as I battle through coat-ripping forest undergrowth while shadowing him as he stalks Sika deer – “Well spotted darling, you are clever”…”What?” …”I am whispering…”No, you shut up”.
Once back at the lodge, wet and bedraggled, cold and tired, not speaking to each other, it will be hard to refuse a reviving whisky and once I have had one of those, harder to hold back on the comfortingly hearty Scottish five course dinner that will no doubt follow. Then, scratching my insect bites, wearing a muddy torn jacket and squelchy wellies, and half a stone plumper, we will return home on Squeezyjet*. You’d think I’d be old enough to know better by now. The things we do for love.


*Strange that Sir Stelios is starting FastJet when he still owns most of his previous airline. Isn’t that biting off your nose to spite your face (as my old mother used to say)?