Not the sort of start you would expect, nor I suspect hope for, at the start of any piece of writing but as I jammed the wheel 90 degrees left, thankfully minus the embarrassing screeching of tyres, it pretty well summed up my thoughts at that particular moment in time. It was dark, the car in front had braked before turning, but as I had expected to go straight on I really wasn’t prepared for the barriers all the way across the A811 closing the road to traffic. I accept there had been a token “Road Ahead Closed” sign on the verge but that I thought that it had been positioned there to announce the closure of the small road to the left (that I was now hurtling my way along) as opposed to the closure of the main road from the west into Stirling.
Where the hell were the flashing lights, the floodlit closure, the major advance signing, the Pipes and Drums of the Highland Regiment of Scotland? When you do this sort of thing you tell the world about it…so that some “eejit” flying along the road at 60mph in the dark doesn’t run into it!
But at least I was flying…which is precisely some 5 minutes hence what I was failing abysmally to do…along with a 3 mile queue of other poor sods. With one major artery into the heart of Stirling successfully closed, a set of temporary lights just west of the city had created the narrowing of another major artery, to the point where the inward flow was now a life choking drip. I let my head thump off the wheel for a couple of minutes (for artistic effect), then turned the car around to take the back road to the motorway from Doune. My journey home took twice as long as my journey heading out.
Where had we been? We had been out “Whangie’ing” ! 😯