Brittle Betty and the Highlander's Bridge

Fancy driving to Chatelherault today?

The Good Lady bustled into the room and towered over me as I tapped away at my laptop keyboard.

No can do baby girl, I am teasing a troll on the interwebs.

I barely looked up as I fed another morsel of joy to Brittle Betty. By my reckoning, he was about to explode.

Who knows, he might even go full rage and start typing in capitals? Oh, the horror.

What? We can't stay in all day because you are fannying about with random folk on the internet?

The Good Lady gave me the eye and not the naughty naughty nighttime boogy one.

Aw... But you know I love tormenting the weak?

I stuck my bottom lip out and made a face that I had seen on a pug

We are going out and that is that.

She sniffed snootily as if someone had suggested that the next Bond could be a Welshman.

Uff alright, but I am not driving to fucking France to see this Chatelherault place?

I snapped the laptop shut and folded my arms. Somewhere Brittle Betty squealed because he had not yet ejaculated.

It's not in France, silly. It is just up the road. It has some great walks in the hills apparently. Even an ancient old bridge that was in Highlander or something.

The Good Lady smirked as the effect of the word Highlander jerked me to attention.

Highlander? Hot batting shit woman, why didn't you say?!

In no time at all, we had left Brittle Betty, the interwebs and Glasgow far behind. As we pulled into Chatelheraut my heart sang at the idea of visiting a bridge that might have had something to do with Highlander.

Who knows? Perhaps someone would challenge me on the bridge and I could chop their head off?

That would be awesome.

We set off down the bonny Scottishly flowered path.

After some five minutes of walking and the children asking if we were there yet, the bridge hove into view.

I felt giddy with excitement, there can be only one! I shouted in my head.

We followed the trail, it was relatively easy going apart from my ears at the grumbling grunts of my children that they were tired and it was too far.

The trees were straight as fuck which pleased me. I dont ask much of a tree but I do appreciate them making a bit of a fucking effort.

The path started to weave upwards. By now we had been walking for some fifteen minutes and the children were complaining that they were going to die.

Occasionally some fallen trees barred the path, we easily stepped over them, even the Little Boom and I laughed to imagine Brittle Betty facing such an obstacle. No doubt he would froth and rage and blame the fallen tree on Big Pharma.

Maybe he would break out the CAPS Lock key?

We were made of sterner stuff though and ploughed on.

By dint of some strange optical illusion and despite us having walked upward for several minutes we came upon the River.

Fuck the water.

I thought. I am only interested in the bridge.

We reached a signpost. I read out how far we had to go.

The Little Boom started screaming that he could go no further and that we were mean.

It made me chuckle because he is four and Brittle Betty is like fifty odd and they were behaving the same way.

Thank fuck the Little Boom didn't have a keyboard or he would be ALL CAPS right now.

Should we head back? The kids are knackered. Sorry about not making it to the bridge. We can come another time?

The Good Lady looked genuinely sorry, perhaps she too had harboured thoughts of chopping off a random person's head.

Aye fuck it, let's go home.

We headed off and at that, the sun came out.

Ahhhh, Scotland, you little tease.