The Genetic Counselling Dept of Raigmore Hospital in Inverness is very laid back. Which is just as well, as Spook was 15 mins late for his consultation despite the letter warning him how busy they were.
We were delighted to discover that we both had appointments at Raigmore at exactly the same time and would be able to travel together, have lunch, and make it all very pleasant. Mine wasn't an appointment, but a communication course.
As we fell out just at the stressful point of leaving on time (not quite), communication consisted mostly of sweary words. This continued for some time as slow cars and vans got in Spooks way and corners seemed to be taken at high speed. The day before, we had been chatting with a young Englishman who had really enjoyed his journey from Inverness to Fort William recently, about how we tended to overlook the beauty of this stretch of the A82. Bad driving could make it a tense experience. Spook assures me that there was no bad driving taking place with the wheel in his hands, but I did spend a lot of time clutching the grab handle, his thigh and not quite the steering wheel, but nearly. We were blocked by a closed canal as we approached Inverness so we took an alternative route. We were blocked by the canal at another point. We were blocked by the railway crossing (never ever been blocked there before) and every red light going. We were both late and not liking it. At the last minute I thought Spook should take a junction we had just passed in order to get to his place of appointment and once he went round the roundabout, I realised he had to get rid of me first and so he had to go round the roundabout again. We weren't on two wheels, but if he'd still had his 2CV, we would have been. He was still yelling "where the hell am I supposed to be?" when I shot out the car and through the maze of corridors to find my venue. They were still at the introduction stage, so I was alright.
The genetic counselling was on account of himself having Haemochromatosis. My understanding of this was that he could no longer drink any more than one glass of red wine at a time. (he makes too much iron in his blood.)(and he drinks too much.) I had taken to telling his friends that they were killing our beloved Spook if they encouraged him to drink. I was very pleased about all this. As it is an inherited condition, he was to attend this appointment. He was overjoyed to discover that the counsellor said I had to be tested too, so both being at the hospital turned out to be very handy and I got invited in for a test and some counselling.
Spook got the all clear in continuing to drink as he likes to, despite me giving the guy the wink. It was obvious that they had done some male bonding. When we went to the supermarket, I lost him to a phonecall from work, so did the shopping myself. I found him in the wine lane, still on the phone but frantically gesticulating to a picture of Wanaka's Rippon Vineyard on one side, and a bottle of Benromach whisky on the other. He looked as though he was reborn. We settled for some Kiwi wine, though the Wanaka stuff wasn't available.
By the end of the day we'd had a great time. He was off the hook, and my communication skills had improved.
Photo's are one I managed to take on the way to Inverness when both hands were free, Spook and Frazer securing the Saddlespan tent, washing the Saddlespan, the clean saddlespan ready for 10undertheben, the wee caravan that No Fuss looked after for the Six Day Trials, the stagger that Spook and I went on, up the croft with the 2 dogs after consuming the Kiwi wine.
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