Up to Scotland...

I burn rubber up to Scotland - got to shift Jimmy a couple of hundred miles to Aviemore. I get to Edinburgh pretty speedily (quite chuffed actually) and decide to reward myself with a trip to my favourite chocolate shop, Plaisir du Chocolat. I find the place surprisingly easy, locate a good parking spot, nudge my way in and am all ready to go and devour the choc shop when a rap on the window startles me. There stands a suave looking guy in a crisp white shirt and shades. "You hurt my car. Twicely." Hey? "Twicely you hurt my car!". Oh lord. I dismount the van and head round to the back to see what all the fuss is about. There's a massive scratch on his bumper. I'm mortified. "Oh no! I'm so sorry - what d'you want to do?". And to my amazement he tells me not to worry about it. I'm so relieved. I bound into the back of the van and gather a load of Millionaire's shortbread and press it into his hands before he can change his mind. His friend asks what I'm doing anyway and I tell the tale of the trip - about looking for strangers for supper and whatnot. "Do you like spicy food? North Indian?" Yes, yes, yes! "Well you must come and have dinner with us". Fabulous. They live in Reading but I'll be down there before long . We swop e-mails, have hearty embraces and leave with big beaming smiles on our faces.

I find the shop and pick up some of their brilliant chocolates - ganaches infused with all manner of exotic and far flung secrets - as well as some choc-chip shortbread and a giant kind of Bounty bar-style patty cake. There's a strange taste in my mouth and the treats make it retreat and make a good accompaniment to the dramatic journey up to Aviemore.