On the road to Oban

Some time ago, at her instigation, the Minx and I went along to see a band called Washington Irving playing a tiny venue in Manchester. It really was small, like a living room, but the music was excellent. Then, a few weeks ago, she noticed they were playing a gig in Oban and suggested that we went along. I'm not sure either of us was particularly clear on where Oban was at that point but we agreed we'd go.

Eventually we located it and realised we'd need to set off fairly promptly if we were going to get up there while it was light. Inevitably, though, we were a little late getting away, not least because we hung around to have a bacon roll with Izzy before setting off. 

The drive up to Glasgow was straightforward and punctuated only by a pitstop for coffee at Tebay services, which are possibly the nicest services in the UK. We were excited by the Erskine Bridge and then we settled into the winding, undulating A roads that would take us up to Oban. For a while I was chatting to Dan on WhatsApp, and he asked if there was any snow, so when we had a chance, we pulled over so that I could take this photo to send to him.

The last part of the journey was pretty miserable, as it was, by then, (very) dark and pouring with rain. It was a joy when we suddenly came across the lights of Oban and wended our way down into the town centre to find the lovely, careworn Columba Hotel. The wind was howling across the harbour to such an extent that when we opened the door to our 'sea-view' room, we assumed that windows had been left open. They hadn't, although the lack of double-glazing meant it was rather breezy (which, to be clear, we both prefer to being hermetically sealed in).

It turns out that Oban is Washington Irving's home town and they'd been booked to play at the town's Christmas party in the Corran Halls. The gig itself was great - you'll be able to read about it here when we've written our reviews - and my only gripe is that they didn't play their fab version of 'She Moved Through The Fair'.