The King's Speech

Going to the movies is an Outing, a Major Event, which involves careful aforethought. As the nearest cinema is in Perth, which is about an hour’s drive away, aside from seeing the film sustenance is needed, and the best financial deal possible must be struck.

I suggested we see The King’s Speech and maybe make up a group to go. Jeanette, the local party planner, swings into action.

After numerous telephone calls, she has confirmed eight women who wanted to go, and because it is dark so early, a 2.30 matinee would be the best time – which would still mean driving back in darkness but I forebore to dispute her logic.

Drivers were designated, pick-up points arranged and Jean’s husband Johnny co-opted to collect Dawn in his 4WD from her ice-bound home at the top of the glen and then take her back up again in the evening. Dawn confided in me that she was much happier to have a man drive her up and down – in case anything happened, she felt a man would handle the emergency better. So much for emancipation!

Jeanette phoned to explain all the details of this military operation.

“We’ll need to leave at 11.00am,” she told me.

“That early?” I asked.

“Och aye, I’ve got a table booked at The Bothy for 12 o’clock.”

Later she rang me back.

“Now, there’s a special deal. We can get a three course lunch, glass of wine and cinema ticket for £20. What do you think?”

“Sounds good,” I said. “Book it!”

A little later, Jeanette rang again (yes, I know she lives next door but truly, it’s easier to conduct these type of arrangements via the phone).

“Apparently, if you are over 55 there is a concession ticket for the cinema and 20 percent off the food at The Bothy. What do you think?” Without pausing for breath, she continued.

“Because I think some people may not want wine. Or three courses. How old are you?”

(Reader, I am omitting my answer to that question. It is quite unpublishable.)

A short time after this call, she rang again.

“You have to be over 60 to get the concession! But the lady at the cinema said och, no one will notice, and she’ll still give us the 20 percent off at the restaurant.”

“Well,” I said, “Those of us who couldn’t possibly pass for 60, will just have to say that the Botox is working fantastically.”

The morning of the Great Day arrives. We convene in the village and are on our way!

A good job we booked for 12 noon at The Bothy. It took us fully half an hour to decide what we wanted to eat, what with the natter and difficulty of tossing up between the soup of the day (parsnip and cider), baked potato with haggis, or goats cheese tart with rocket salad (“Oh, I can’t eat rocket,” says Dawn, “It gets stuck in my throat” so she opts for a turkey sandwich).

Liz tells us about living on the island of Iona, where she is working for a year. The island has about 100 residents, and is one mile by three miles. In the tourist season, numbers can swell to about 250. To get from Iona back to the village takes her a full day by foot, ferry, bus, ferry, bus, train and bus.

She asked if she could join the Iona Ladies Group which meets once a week. After some discussion amongst the ladies in the Ladies Group it was decided she could join, but only for a year, as they only allow 20 members at any one time. As there are about 60 ladies on the island, this seems a bit unfair to me, but perhaps the others have branched off and formed splinter groups, otherwise their social life would be very limited.

I ask what there is to do on the island.

“You can walk around it in about half a day,” says Liz.

“That’s Mahri sorted!” we chorus.

“You can play golf, there’s a golf course,” she continues.

“Sarah’s fine then!”

“There’s wonderful light for artists,” Liz tells us.

“Theresa, you’ll be happy!”

“And the flowers in summer are just beautiful,” she says.

“Aye, Jean will be in her element!”

Just then the food arrives, so we tuck in.

Jeanette tells us Gordon’s story of buying a Christmas tree when he was in London, for their daughter Gillian’s flat.

Gordon gets on the tube and travels a few stops to the market, where Gillian has assured him the best trees at the best prices are to be found. He chooses a magnificent Norfolk pine, about seven feet high and proceeds back to the tube station.

Somehow he manhandles this monster on the escalators and gets it to the station platform – which is empty. He props the tree up and takes a photo of it, standing alone as if it is waiting to catch the train.

On the train, Gordon approaches a rather stuffy looking London city gent and asks him if he would mind taking a photo of him and the tree, and thrusts his mobile phone at him to take the snap. He then poses with the tree.

Humourlessly, the gent obliges. Gordon looks at the photo.

“Och, it’s a bit fuzzy,” he says. “Would you take another one?”

Dawn is inveigled into telling us her story of stealing a chip a few weeks ago.

“Oh yes,” she says, “I have always wanted to steal a chip. So, I was in Perth and I was walking along the high street, and I saw this pair of young lads sitting on a bench, eating fish and chips.

“And I thought, I’m going to steal a chip! So I leaned over and I just took a chip out of this lad’s box of chips, and I popped it in my mouth. He looked so surprised.

“When I told my grand-daughter, she was appalled. Oh granny, she said, you could have been mugged or beaten up.

“Oh, I don’t think so dear, I said. It was broad daylight after all, and anyway, I think they were far too shocked at an old lady stealing one their chips to do anything about it.”

It’s only 1.30pm but people are making moves to leave. Now I know why we left the village so early – being in the big smoke is an opportunity to change Christmas gifts, go to the bank and do other sundry chores.

Before we leave, I go to the Ladies. It is down the stairs, then around a corner, then a long corridor, with a sign that reads:

“Don’t dawdle, it’s a long way”

Then at the end of the corridor:

“Tie a knot in it, not far now”

Around the corner:

“Hold on for a wee bit more”

With a good 15 minutes to spare, we reach the cinema which is full, but we squeeze into two rows on the side. Half way through the film Jan falls asleep, and as she is snoring, Mahri has to wake her up. Otherwise the film passed without incident.

Her snooze is probably a good thing because it has been thawing and raining all afternoon, and as our designated driver, Jan needs to be on alert as she drives through deep puddles, some of which totally blind out the windscreen as they spray the car.

“Not as bad as Queensland, though,” she says.

Six o’clock, and we are home. Next week we plan to go and see another film, The Black Swan. We might take in a second movie as well, just to take full advantage of the Day Out.