I wasn't sure what to expect on arrival, in fact after a 9 hour journey from Shropshire I think I was a little travel lagged anyway so this just made me all the more sceptical.
I turned the Range Rover off the well beaten track alongside the ever formidable Loch Ness and headed along an unclassified road that just seemed so steep it could be a launch pad for the space shuttle, such was it's gradient, on top of that i chanced to look down while ascending said mountain and found it somewhat uncomfortable to see more of Loch Ness than I had wished to all in one go, considering I normally get vertigo on a shag Pyle carpet.
Despite all this i kept my foot on the accelerator and glided effortlessly upwards along the narrow single track road until on one bend (the sharpest of them all) I met a local farmer with his ubiquitous Land Rover and trailer, doing what all locals do...going rather too fast for my poor interloper reactions, needless to say, said farmer (obviously used to us townies wandering these roads in a state of confusion) mad a suitable swerve for the ditch and slipped past me with absolutely no expression on his face whatsoever.
Having survived the worrying view and the Formula 1 farmer i graced the top of the mountain with my presence, a full 1000ft above sea level or so i was informed and revelled in the wonderful views that accompanied my endeavours. Such was the beauty of this wonderful vantage point that I scarce could drive any further, like some view starved tourist I jumped out of the truck and reached for my camera, taking pictures of such wonderful scenery of Lochs and wooded areas until i had the little red battery symbol turn up in the viewfinder to curtail my efforts.
Getting back in the truck i sloped along the top of the mountain with now just my thoughts at what really was before me, did I really need to do this? surely no-one will take me seriously?I know i can write already, what could they teach me?... like a petulant little school boy who does not want to visit his old aunt or grandma, I was trying to use every excuse under the sun to convince myself to just turn around, go grab a local hotel for the week and just go enjoy the scenery.
Fortunately, my right foot was braver than the doubting Thomas's in my head and I turned down the driveway towards the cottages at Moniack Mhor full of trepidation maybe, but found my growing need to answer the questions that have been in my head for so long allowing me the confidence to stride up to the door and walk right in.
"Hi" I said rather nervously to 4 women sat at the kitchen table, all chatting away happily having a coffee, for a minute I thought I had stumbled into a neighbourly cup of coffee between housewives and i was in the wrong place such was the warmth of all the smiles around and the ease at which everyone seemed to be chatting, but my fears were soon laid to rest when a lovely smiling face came towards me with her hand out, "you must be Chris?"
"err no I am Dave"
"oh I am so sorry we were expecting a Chris"
"Well I am Dave, Dave James" i commented rather sheepishly.
"Do come through and I will show you where your room is" she said with a lovely broad Scottish accent that just filled the room with as much warmth as the log-burner that glowed away in the corner could muster, little did I know but myself and that log-burner were to get very well acquainted during the week, but more of that later.
I was led through the main lounge area where a huge dinner table was all laid out for what looked like an upcoming banquet, the wooden oak floors made all the expected creaking noises that only they do as we traversed this long room towards a wooden painted door in the corner next to the fire place.
"You are in here" said my ever smiling guide, "it's rather a large room so you are very lucky" she said matter of factly. I thanked her and dropped my heavy bags on to the floor on entering and looked slowly around me, the room was very sparse, no carpet, no alarm or radio, definitely no TV and just a few 'dressing table like draws' with a loose mirror perched on top of one of them against the far wall. It was a typical old style farmhouse bedroom and I must admit to tentatively looking under the beds to see if the authentic chamber pot went along with it, thankfully there were 5 toilets in the house just across from the huge lounge so civilisation was here in some respects !.
I shook myself down and freshened myself up and then wound my way through the lounge around settees and chairs and made my second entrance in the kitchen, a cup of coffee was immediately offered to which my reply of "does the Pope have a Balcony" attracted a few giggles from one or two but not the full house I was expecting so as a little note to self I thought it would be best to be on my very best behaviour, although as it transpired that would be very much far from the case.
A cup of coffee always puts me at my ease, I guess it's the caffeine or the fact that it always reminds me of home, a warm fire and good company are the other factors to ease away any worries I have in new surroundings and here i found I had all three almost immediately.
Gradually as time wore on through the afternoon the other 'students' starting arriving from their far flung lives and families the world over, from Malaysia to Switzerland from Glasgow to West London, as diverse as any ensemble ever thought of, but all with the one desire and that was to sample life as a writer, selfishly and unequivocally for a whole week. The scene was most definitely set.
That evening we sat down for a meal, our first meal cooked by our wonderful house assistants who were always there in the background to answer any questions that may come their way, of which I suspect Malcolm was remembered more prominently, being the one who was mostly in attendance, he compered the evenings and was always just there when needed. The first evening meal was cooked by the staff of Moniack and we soon tucked in to a wonderful salad with roast vegetables, so welcome that it simply danced across our baying taste buds like a butterfly first released from the darkness of it's cocoon, it was indeed a delight, all the ingredients of a wonderful week had been put into place now, apart of course from one remaining item, an introduction to our tutors and of course an introduction from ourselves.
Our tutors, the renowned authors Morag Joss and John Aberdein welcomed us to the fold of writing with Arvon at Moniack Mhor with a reassuring talk that opened the doors of confidence in all our abilities almost straight away, they cut through all the usual inspirational jargon like the sharpest knife devours a juicy steak to it's respected size and weight for our consumer driven acceptance, not for these two giants of the literary world to sit smugly on their accomplished thrones and preach down to the 'infidels', far, far from it. They were gracious, fun, intelligent and above all else we could see they were passionate about what they did. We listened intently to what the course entailed and not a sound was made around the table as we all devoured our new 'masters' every words, they assured us along the way that though it may now seem daunting, they would be there to help and assist us in every way possible.
Then, the moment came where John pointed around the room so that we could introduce ourselves, though this being Arvon it too was inspired as we were given pieces of paper and a pen and had to write about the person next to us to introduce them, we were asked our names our occupations and something extraordinary about ourselves. John sat slightly to the left of me the other side of the room and pointed to his left and said in a wonderful deep Highland accent,
'Tell yi wat, lit's ga roond tha tible tha sim wiy as the sun'
and with that he pointed to Magis on his left hand side, Magis was a Malaysian and was one of the more senior students, she had seen many things in her life, she was a wonderful woman with a heart made of the purest gold ever wrenched from mother earth's tough grasp, she was all things to everyone and an inspiration to me while i was on the course. She read out,
'This is Dave, he comes from Shropshire and he has already had a small book of poems published'
This statement was greeted with a round of applause that was so warm it brought a lump to my throat, I soon realised that whatever prejudices i had experienced back home when people were told 'i write' were completely irrelevant and not to be repeated up here in the land of the Moniack Mhor and the Scots.
Blushingly I accepted the applause, then I introduced the wonderful Magis to the rest of the class,
'This is Magis, she is from Malaysia and she has been a practising Dr for 37 years'
again the round of applause was as inspiring and warm as it was heartfelt, I soon came to realise that this was going to be a very special time for me and as the week panned out I wasn't to be disappointed.....
.....to be continued.
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