If you haven't got a penny

Prior to our recent, memorable sojourn on Mull, the last time I was anywhere in UK north of Glasgow I was still in my teens. I was entirely unprepared for its wild emptiness, the scale, the silence, the isolation. Entirely out of my 'comfort zone', I found it intimidating, alienating and strange. I'm not sure I would say I enjoyed myself - maybe it did me some good.

One experience lodged in my memory, because it was unsettling and shook my self-image as rational, scientific, grounded and all that pompous, 20th century smugness. I've scoured my memory and a map, and I think it must have been on the Mull of Kintyre; a single-track road; a place called nowhere in the middle of nowhere, on a journey to nowhere, just to see what was there. In a vast open landscape (this is my memory - don't rely on it) was a single, dying, wind-blasted remnant of a tree - probably blackthorn or hawthorn, I don't know. It had an arresting presence; stopping was mandatory; the closer I approached the less explicable it became: half dead, tilted unnaturally, out-of-place. Close up, its strangest feature became visible: the bark was studded throughout with old copper coins - pennies and ha'pennies - hammered in edge-wise, then bent to 90 degrees, creating the effect of a coat of mail; the work of many hours and many hands

At that stage of life, I'd never seen anything like it; I was unnerved, spoked, imagining covens, ceremonies, flaming torches, hoods, glinting eyes and gap-toothed leers, omerata and blood feuds. I sensed a shadow over the sun and a chill in the wind. I went no further and retreated to Oban

Today we had a find. A new destination to put on our mental map of local places worth knowing. A woollen mill in the heart of the land of the Cotswold Lion. Beautifully crafted woollens, of course, along with an eclectic mix of books, wood carvings, fossils, offbeat toys and games, historical artefacts, stone carvings, artwork and oddities crafted from animal horn. Most importantly, A* cheese scones. In amongst the cornucopia was this, with no discernible purpose, no commentary, no label. It is set in a carved limestone base, so I assume decorative and imaginative. For me, it brought back memories of a strange summer visit to a Scottish promontary

Of course I grew up and gained experience and saw stanger things than a tree full of coins - which itself, I learned, is far from unique. My equilibrium was restored and I saw my experience in a mature perspective. Within less than fifty years, I summoned the courage to return