Briefly, just to say I’m back in the big smoke, despite the best efforts of the Scottish weather, conspiring to keep me storm-stayed off the mainland.

See, the thing is, the journey from my mum’s place isn’t too arduous, as long as you know what you’re doing, and you’ve got your wits about you. It’s a finely-timed series of smaller journeys, combining to cover the full 400 miles of so.

First there’s a drive - about an hour, if I’m behind the wheel, though I’ve heard of one local making it in just 29 minutes - through probably the most gorgeous scenery you might ever see. Winding along a lochside, then through a mighty, desolate glen, then through forests and areas of flatland where eagles are often spotted, until you reach the ferry terminal.

Then there’s a short wait for the ferry, and a 45 minute crossing which winds between the mainland and the islands of Mull, Lismore and Kerrera, passing lighthouses and a castle. In the summer, dolphins swim alongside the boat. Even after years of making the journey more times than I can count, my jaw still drops.

Then there’s a short while to kill in Oban, the harbour town on the mainland, just long enough to hit up the delicatessen for fresh-made sandwiches (mmm, salmon) and a paper, before hopping onto the lunchtime train which winds its way down through the Trossachs towards Glasgow.

Then it’s just a matter of walking outside Queen Street station to catch the airport shuttle bus, which whisks you along the M8 to Glasgow airport where you can check in and then have an hour to kill before the short flight back to London.

On the other end, after collecting luggage, it’s downstairs to the underground and then a handful of stops along the Picadilly line to Hammersmith, followed by ten minutes on a bus and a hundred metres of weary trudge.

Simple. The whole thing - in theory - gets you door to door in about eleven hours, which sounds like a lot, except when you remember that for all of that time you can be reading, listening to music, doing the crossword and munching nice food. Not such a bad end (or in reverse, start) to a holiday really, wouldn’t you say?

The thing is, though, all of the above only works if it *all* works. There’s only five ferry crossings a day, and only one (11am) which connects with the train (12.40) - one of three a day - which will get you into Glasgow in time for an early evening (6.30) flight.

And today, it didn’t work.

When I woke up this morning, the bay outside the window was covered in white horses where yesterday there had been only catspaws. I nervously called Caledonian MacBrayne (the ferry company) who said that no services had run yet this morning, but the 11am would be the first attempt. So we hopped in the car and rushed to the ferry, where we discovered that the 11am sailing was also cancelled. Bugger.

There were various options, all of which were a complete faff. Taking the alternative Lochaline - Fishnish ferry, then racing the train to Crianlarich where I could hop on. Rebooking all travel for the next day. Going over on the 1pm ferry (if it went) and hitching to Glasgow because the train would have long gone. Other plans involving coaches, sleeper trains, and B&Bs in Fort William. All rather annoying alternatives, and none guaranteed to make use of the tickets I’d already paid for.

So eventually, I propositioned a complete stranger at the ferry terminal, who I overheard on the phone to someone kvetching that he would miss his flight. We joined forces, got the 1pm ferry and then hailed a cab down to Glasgow - a stonking £130 between us, but still cheaper than any of the alternatives.

If I’m honest, it was quite cool being chauffeur-driven to the airport. Paul, the bloke from Tobermory, had an iTrip and his iPod, and we grooved our way through the mountains, playing “name that tune” and making smalltalk with John, the amiable driver from Oban Taxis, who got us to the airport in record time, faster than I’d have managed it by train, even.

Course then they started cancelling BA flights, annoyingly, but happily not the one I’d been booked on all along, and I got home in one piece and only slightly behind schedule.

Anyway, all this by way of saying (rather long-windedly) that I’m back, and whatever passes for normal service will resume here in the coming days. Plus there’ll be photos from the trip - in addition to the ones of playing (sort of) Shinty on the beach on New Years Day.

Hello 2007. Up and at ‘em.