Hungry dogs are left to stew

Apr 6 2008 By Alison Craig

Monday - Have taken a bit of a liking to Baileys Irish Cream. Strangely, I've gone off wine - I just cannae handle it. It's fabulous when I'm drinking it but the next day I'm fit for nothing. Obviously I could forego the delights of drink full stop but that isn't going to happen - especially when I am surrounded by party animals with lager and wine swilling around the place. So I eye up a bottle of Baileys that's been sitting in my home since Christmas and have a wee swig - well, not that wee. With ice, it's very nice indeed. In between swigs, I make a giant beefy stew to take up north to Glen Lyon tomorrow. We are going to a self-catering cottage with pals and the last thing we want to do when we're up there is cook. So tonight I do my Mrs Beeton impression and create a few delights for the holiday.

Tuesday - Get up early to pack the car. In go wellies, fishing stuff, waterproofs, trackies, dog food, food for us, beer, wine, Baileys and walking shoes. We wedge the two dogs in and they sit with their noses pressed against the inside of the boot - it's an estate so they are not about to suffocate. Last in is the big casserole pan. I line the inside of the lid with cling film so everything will stay in place. I jam it behind the passenger seat. We stop for petrol and take a break to stretch our legs while the dogs break out of the boot with befy stew in their nostrils. When we get back in the car they have jumped om to the back seat. Flora, half-dog, half-Womble, is sitting with her head on the lid of the pan inhaling and Sammy the labrador just looks guilty. They are led back to the boot where they sit for the rest of trip.

Wednesday - We arrive at exactly the same time as out friends and all rush off to get settled in. The adults are relieved, the dogs are happy and the kids are ecstatic on finding a big toad on the doorstep - a good omen for them. As we unpack the car, my pal Tracy produces a large lasagne for tonight. I decide to leave the stew in the car for tomorrow night because there's no way it would fit in the fridge. We go for a good stomp - four adults, four kids and three dogs (our two mongrels plus Lola, a half-Irish Water Spaniel, half-Spinone beast that looks like her face has been permed). It is so beautiful here, within 10 minutes we sound like an advert for Visit Scotland. Back at the cottage, soon the fire is roaring as we all sit round it scoffing our lasagne.

Thursday - The weather is four seasons in five minutes but the kids still go digging for worms and build dams in the burn. Naturally, Dave and his pal Graeme fish while Tracy and I pour scorn on the fact they are fishing. "It's too cold," we say, knowing nothing about it at all - though that never stops us. A couple of hours later, as the wind is whipping up and darkness is about to fall, the kitchen door flies open, Graeme and Dave stomp in with cheesy grins. There's a beautiful 1lb brown trout in Dave's hand. We all duly "oooh" and "aaah". Within 10 minutes it is gutted, cleaned and paching in a pan. We eat it with a little mayonnaise, salt, pepper and fresh, buttered brown bread. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall eat your heart out.

Friday - Just as well Dave caught the trought. After we have eaten it, I sloped out to the car to retrieve the giant pan of stew. One of the dogs managed to slip in unnoticed during one of the many forays into the car to get CDs, wellies etch and nosed off the lid, stuck their chops into the cling film and broke through to the meat. Most of it has been eaten and the remainder of the gravy is liberally splashed all over the floor of the back of Dave's car. I screeched on discovering it as three adults, four kids and - surprise surprise - no pets came running to see what was wrong. The dogs still say silent, lying still, not wagging, not catching our eyes - they are guilty as sin. Dave is traumatised that his precious car will smell of stew for years.

Saturday - We had today's planned cooked breakfast for dinner last night instead so our tummies are rumbling after sharing what we had left - two bananas - between us for breakfast. Someone suggests the post office might be open. It's unlikely but we're so desperate we head off to try and find even basic rolls. What we discover is an oasis to the starving - a lovely wee place serving homemade soup, sandwiches and, joy of joys, home bakes. We sit down and enjoy the creamiest hot chocolate with a tasty freshly-made cream and jam scone chaser. As we sit licking our lips, we agree that we're delighted the dogs ate our dinner or we may not have found this jewel in the crown of Glen Lyon. Podgy, we return to the cottage to pack our bags before heading back to the city and civilisation. But, as Arnie Schwarzenegger said: "I'll be back."