Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
‘All aboard … and welcome aboard the train to Inverness.’
The announcement was pure joy to my ears. Gladly, I hear the first unmistakable pop of a cork at the table opposite and I give my fellow travellers an approving smile.
The two small bottles clinking at the bottom of my bag can now surface without any shame and the empty plastic Costa cup purchased in haste will act as the perfect glass.
Poor me, all alone, children with grandparents, the husband holding the fort in Bahrain and I’m heading north for the girls’ annual weekend, what to do but relax, enjoy the journey and soak up the spectacular scenery as I make my way to my destination.
I recall a friend stating that she had only seen the real colour green upon landing in Scotland and I must completely agree. Travelling by train is by far my favourite mode of transport and I miss it so much that I appreciate every aspect of the journey.
Can it be that the adoration of my surroundings is down to being an expat most of the year? Would I feel the same if I were living back home?
They say there’s nothing like a Scot abroad, maybe it’s true. Do we have to leave in order to realise what we have back home or is it true that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side?
‘Tickets please!’
