You Can't Take It With You - Prunella Entwhistle In The Scottish Highlands
You Can't Take It With You - Prunella Entwhistle In The Scottish Highlands
Many years ago my (then) girlfriend, Prunella Entwhistle, and I took a vacation to Scotland so she could meet the relatives and eat haggis
A dyed-in-the-wool Romantic, Prunella adored art and was an amateur sculptor. Enthusiastic and impulsive by nature, she was given to moments of inspiration infrequently preceded by rational deliberation. The vacation progressed well and we crisscrossed the Scottish highlands in a rented Mini, lodging modestly in tiny towns with names like Auchnagallin, Kearvaig, and Cave of Smoo.
One morning, as we were leaving the latest in a long line of B&Bs, I firmly gripped the handles of our suitcases to take them downstairs for packing into the Mini. Doing so gave me the distinct impression that our suitcases did not wish to come along. Flummoxed and put off in a way unique to people trying to break camp and get going, I raised the bags slowly – they had definitely put on weight. I was then reminded of a nagging suspicion I’d had – and ignored – for days, that either I was becoming weaker or the bags were getting heavier.
Impatient and irritated I opened them up to determine if this was real or some dreadful hallucination. There, carefully wrapped and stashed inside Prunella's sweaters, shirts, and trousers were half-a-dozen large stones, souvenirs of the Highlands. I was horrified, but it was about to get worse. I also discovered several whiskey bottles that had been filled with water from mountain springs. As I realized I’d been carrying this dead weight up and down stairs - and was expected to carry it through various airport terminals - the blood began to rise like mercury in a thermometer.
Later, after I’d vented sufficiently to make continued travel possible, Prunella revealed her “artistic” plan to make a little garden in our Pennsylvania home featuring Scottish rocks and water. I shook my head in quiet disbelief, wishing for a witness to confirm the depths of my suffering.
To live is to accumulate baggage. It pays to have a good look every now and again; some of your beliefs, assessments, values, etc. may have outlived their usefulness. One’s own baggage is bad enough, but as you are cleaning house you may discover that you’re also dragging around somebody else’s insanity; and who needs that?
Those who enjoy the humorous, thought-provoking writing found here will love my books. All three are available from Amazon – paperback & digital – simply by clicking on the descriptions below.
INVISIBLE DRIVING – The original bipolar memoir. Unique in that it takes readers inside a manic episode – from liftoff through recovery. Incendiary.
MOONLIT TOURS – Dark comedy/social satire/crime drama. This gritty, urban novel is thick with quirky characters from all social strata. Acerbic.
WASHED UP – Wickedly funny novel delivering an irreverent, affectionate take on alcoholism and recovery in the genteel suburbs. Transformative.
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Posted by blog.alistairmcharg.com at 2/17/2012 9:23 AM 
Categories: Humor, Writing, Mental Health, Art
Tags: Scotland Highlands Prunella Entwhistle Baggae Emotional Baggage
Categories: Humor, Writing, Mental Health, Art
Tags: Scotland Highlands Prunella Entwhistle Baggae Emotional Baggage
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