Okay. Back to school one week and already exhausted. Currently sitting on sofa with neighbours' cat as my companion. But that's another story.

Okay for those of you who haven't been up to speed with the continuing soap opera, just before the holidays I'd taken some stick from my old cousin who was appalled that I hadn't done anything about my parents' ashes. (His own mother is buried under my aunt's fishpond ) I spoke to the people - Mr Fridge- at Inverness crematorium and we talked or the options. I had intended at some point to do the final farewells at the old airfield beside my granny's schoolhouse, but these days it is a bit too close to the gas terminal, and not to be recommended. I was asked where my parents had gone on honeymoon; where I was conceived; where my mum and dad liked to spend their time. And as most of those answers really came up as Inverness, I adopted a tree for them and we had a little ceremony where I read a poem, scattered them around the tree, and left flowers. Soon there will be a little plaque with their names and dates and a line from the poem.

As my luck never holds, my Italian dumped me the day afterwards. I suppose the fact that I'd seen him for the summer months had made me complacent, but his other lady- the one who knows a lot about his business and his family- had found out, and threw a huge tantrum, in which there were suicide threats and all manner of stuff that made him decide 'anything for a quiet life' and the easier person to dump was me.

So with that in mind, we had to turn the holidays around to salvage something.

I headed to Wick airport on Thursday morning, and ended up waiting there for over 12 hours. One plane had technical issues; a second had run over the crew's hours; then there was an incident involving an air ambulance at Aberdeen airport runway. During my time sitting around I kept company with an oil stand by barge master, the cafe owner and the legal auditor. And in those conversations I discovered how much I enjoy just talking to people. And that it's fun even when there is no flirting agenda.

I saw some friends from my own schooldays on the Friday: breakfast with one, dinner with Vaila and her husband. Then Saturday I got on a train with my gig going friend Gordon, and we headed for Edinburgh. Fun day of getting my nails done, eating in Le Monde, Patisserie Valerie, and then the gig I'd waited all those years for- Al Stewart at Queens hall. The music was amazing, every bit as good as the recordings with a bit of a twist. And as Gordon had sussed out that there would be a signing session at the end I got my photograph taken with him and the band.

Next day I blew the budget, bought a Mulberry bag, and had a gallery morning in the Scottish National Gallery, before getting on a bus out to the airport, where my bag protector spray was immediately confiscated. While I was waiting to go through security, I had lunch, and spent an hour speaking to a young Austrian, who had intended to spend the early afternoon at the zoo, but had been put off by the weather.

It was home Sunday night and the sleeper to London Monday night,,as there was no way I was risking missing the big Al Stewart gig at the Albert Hall. On the sleeper if you take a first class ticket, there are a few perks. One of these is the rather American style diner/lounge car, where the regulars meet for a conference (if you book it early enough, commuting through the week between London and the highlands is possible), and lone travellers can unload to someone they might never meet again in their lives. A lady called D who teaches in primary and I spent two hours telling our stories. Although she is divorced with grown up children, our situations were remarkably alike: uncertainties, loneliness, the whole ' what am I doing the rest of this life?' Having had our drinks we went our separate ways at midnight.

I don't think I actually slept in that narrow bed, being shingled by the movement if an incredibly fast train, but next day I followed my friend Kate's instructions and showed my first class ticket at Euston's nd had my shower, did my make up, had breakfast and bought my one day travel pass, before heading out to London.
Hard to think that this was my fourth visit in fifteen months, after being away for so long, and this one had items in a bucket list to deal with. I dropped my bags at the hotel, where I couldn't check in until late afternoon, headed for covent Garden and did the tour of the royal opera house, and nosed around the shops.another handbag later - a Radley- I had a bucket list mission to have a drink in the American bar in the Savoy. for a mere £11.50 I had the non alcoholic iced tea cocktail and a plate of nibbles that turned it into lunch. And managed to get a wee tour of the establishment too. It's been refurbished, but I still remember going in there once with Mum - and I'm sure she would have approved.

I did the Elizabethan exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery before heading upstairs to say hello to some portraits which were old friends during my gap year. I was hungry again by this time, so did the Macdonalds burger fix, and headed off towards the Tube station intending to find afternoon tea in Fortnums or Harrods. And then another bucket list wizard wheeze. I nipped into the Ritz and asked if it was possible to get afternoon tea as a cancellation. The nice young concierge was very sympathetic when he heard it was on my late mum's bucket list, so he let me into a secret. go through the doors into the salon, but turn right into the small jewel of a mirrored bar, and order a pot of tea. Fraction of the price, and it comes with shortbread and the daily telegraph. Oh and lots of the world's glitterati at the next tables.

Refreshed I headed to check into my less salubrious hotel room and had to argue not I be sent to the other hotel in Hammersmith. I pleaded that I needed to be within walking distance of S Kensington, so was given the disabled room with a dodgy shower. By now I'd used up two black t shirts so I dashed back onto the tube and went to Knightsbridge where H&m had what I needed. Mad dash into Harvey's and Harrods, and thence to The Gore to meet Neil McEwan, a Facebook friend, for a drink in the bar where years ago my roommates and I used to plead for the cake at the end of the night. Mr McEwan is older than me, semi retired, but he does the rounds of the film festivals and buys documentaries which then go to C4 or to cable channels. And we talked film, and the subject of a programme on the trade in human organs in third world countries.

And then it was Al Stewart time again. I'd never actually been inside the Albert hall before! and it's where the non stadium rock crowd are holding the London leg of their tours. (Steve Hckett was there this last week). This time it was the entire Year of the Cat album, with musicians Tim Renwick, Peter White, as well as Dr Dave. Brilliant gig, and he played the dark and the rolling Sea for me.

Next morning it was mad dash to get to Victoria and the rail link for Gatwick for the plane north, and a taxi run to pick up the car, to drive north. And Thursday saw me drive to Inverness to get on a train for Aberdeen to see my solicitor and sign off Dad's estate.

I stayed over to meet a friend the next morning, before getting on the train north, and spending a bit too much time and money in Inverness. I got in totally exhausted and the last Saturday of the holidays I was in bed until about 3pm.

Huge sense of anticlimax going back into work. Oh I had to drive to Inverness again on the Monday for an in service course, but I had company in the shape of the ladies of WHS English department.



I spent so much time running about over summer and October that I've caught up on travelling. Not quite so frustrated over that and I know I can find my way around Europe and the U, as a loner traveller. I've spoken to people in airports and trains, and done some writing. But work is still a bit rocky at times, and now I'm not sure where I want to live or plan to retire to. I've discovered that living alone is the norm in London and Edinburgh, and that you don't stick out like a sore thumb in those cities, but I doubt I could live in them full time.

Caithness is a good place to be if you have family or a group of close friends, but I have neither, and short of spending my entire life online, I'm going to need to make some changes. Finding another teaching job isn't likely to be easy unless I either look for a promoted post, or a sideways move- possibly a secondment. I've applied for one, which I don't know if I'd be allowed to take given my acting PT is on maternity leave and our timetables have been collapsed. The ideal would let me have a year south to help me make up my mind.

As to relationships? I am lucky to have some good friends- all at a distance- who all have other things to focus in in their own lives, but who are prepared to give me a bit of their time, by email, or text or the odd meeting. Gino, I now realise was a short term 'fix' of excitement and adventure, but it was never meant to last, and I got the idea that he was running out of steam.

I really need to do what Neil McEwan has shown me is the way forward- to get happy with my own company: live in a place I like where I can do stuff that will cheer me up. The audiences attaché Al Stewart concerts were amazingly friendly and enthusiastic, and although we were a very middle aged bunch, I remembered how I felt all those years ago when I was young.

The next challenge is going to be getting through Christmas and New Year. Especially in a house where 2 years ago, a bit of magic happened.

Oddly enough there is a little bit of magic around in the form of a neighbour's little black cat. He sits on my boiler, blags his way in for a bowl of cat biscuits and a saucer of milk, then crashes out on my sofa for hours at a time. But he usually heads out before midnight. Maybe I need small dark and handsome rather than a man?