In our previous post from Hettie’s Tearoom we were on a mission to Dingwall to explore some family history. We’re still up north but this time we are on another sort of mission … to find an old friend. We haven’t seen him for something like thirty five years. Problem was that, other than his address, we didn’t have any contact details so we couldn’t warn him we were coming. Perhaps that was just as well otherwise he might have arranged to be ‘out’. After our sojourn to Dingwall we were heading for home but a slight diversion to Evanton, further along the Comarty Firth coast, was not going to add too much to our journey. First though, we stopped off here at the Storehouse of Foulis for a cuppa.

It gets its name because it was built as a Storehouse in 1740 as a central collection point for estate tenants to bring their oats and barley. These were then redistributed to farm workers as wages or sent off to markets further south. Boats would land on the beach, load up, and then take off on the next high tide. That’s all in the past, now it’s a large farm shop/restaurant.

What’s in a name?

Last time we were here seven years ago we had a chocolate and banana scone which left us somewhat underwhelmed. This time we played safe and ordered a fruit scone and some coffee. We had a table by the large bay window looking out over the water and a few redundant oil rigs parked like monuments to a time of plenty squandered by an idiotic Westminster government.

We thought we should check the address. Sacre bleu, he didn’t live in Evanton after all, he lived in Edderton. Evanton/Edderton, an easy mistake to make? We wanted to go south and home but Edderton would take us even further north to the Dornoch Firth … aargh! We deliberated on what to do as we ate our scone. It was nice and came with a nice pot of jam and some prepackaged butter. With this being a self-service place it was never going to be a topscone but enjoyable nevertheless.

Deliberations over, we returned to the car and headed north. Edderton is a small village which lies amidst beautiful countryside on the southern shores of the Dornoch Firth. It also has the good fortune to be sandwiched between the Balblair and Glenmorangie distilleries and presumably has a very happy population of about 400. Our satnav took us straight there but when it announced “you have arrived” it left us a choice of numerous houses at the end of a cul-de-sac .

I stayed in the car while Pat went to make enquiries. Suddenly, there was tap on my window and a chap wanting to know if I was looking for someone. They don’t miss much in Edderton! I told him the name to which he just shook his head and said there was no one of that name in the village. “He was a vet” I said, to which he replied “Oh, that’s his house there“. We had indeed ‘arrived’.

Young lads

after such a long passage of time, turning up unannounced isn’t really very fair. At first he didn’t recognise us but then he gasped “Good grief” … or words to that effect and we were welcomed in. Many years ago, he, I and another friend  went on a climbing holiday to St Moritz in the Alps. It’s a long story of wrecked cars and other mishaps the like of which could only happen to young lads with no responsibilities. Suffice to say we never made it. We did, however, in a very round about way, manage to end up in the Pyrenees.

Magically it seemed like no time had passed at all since we last saw each other. Needless to say there was much catching up to be done. We did eventually get home … in the dark!

IV16 9UX         tel: 01349 830038.         Storehouse

///elsewhere.surreal.giggle