My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here,
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer -
A-chasing the wild deer, and following the roe;
My heart's in the Highlands, wherever I go.My dear friend Chameleon invited my family and I to join her and her family where they are staying for two weeks in a delightful cottage on the shores of Loch Tummel. Young George and I were able to get away and visit them briefly this weekend. I would have dearly loved to stay longer and soak in the stunning landscapes and go for those wonderful walks that were about to take place this morning just as we were leaving to come back down to the lowlands. Sadly The Man of the Place wasn't able to join us. As I didn't see much of him last weekend either and I was keen to get back home to him.
George had never been this far north before. It was a shame then that the first part of our trip up was shrouded in cloud and mist. Pretty though the clouds were, they were hiding some beautiful scenery.
Because we were only there for a short time, George and I had to start horsing around almost immediately upon our arrival. There was a rope swing! 
Lorna showed us the proper procedure for the rope swing and George showed us that as ever, he was game for a bit of fun!
I didn't go on the rope swing. I was terrified that the rope would snap when I was suspended over rocks and I'd need to be airlifted out of the glen.
We then went down to the loch were there were benches, fire pits, fishing equipment and amongst the pebbles were shards of old pottery that needed to be collected and judged. 
If the pieces of old crockery were pretty enough, they were hauled up to the house to be included in some grand mosaic to be created at a later date.As a grand barbecue was going to be happening on this little bit of pebbly shore, we had to get the fire started early.
I got the barbecue started and George got the campfire started. There was one fire to cook over and one fire to keep away the midges! George hauled three loads of logs down to the beach in the wheelbarrow so that the campfire would stay fed.
Other supplies came down the lumpy path in the wheelbarrow as well. Then we had to wait for the fire to mature before starting. 
Reading The Perthshire Advertiser kills some time. It is an informative and amusing little publication.We put the drinks into the loch to keep them cold.
You can't get more Scottish than a photo of Irn Bru chilling in a Scottish loch!
The Hungarian likes a bit of pork steak with his mustard!
As day turned slowly to evening, the weather improved. It improved so much so that we were able to see the beautiful show of heather on the other side of Loch Tummel and a rainbow appeared. 
It raised our spirits just that little bit more!That night, after shouting hello to the campfires across the dark loch and then listening to the sounds of the night (owls and unidentified growls) we all went indoors to bowls of candy and a huge game of knock out whist!I should have been a croupier!
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