Looking Back - Part Three

In 1960 my father became the manager of The Queen's Hotel, in Prestwick, Scotland -- which is now called, I believe, Queen's Nursing Home.

Here is a photo of my dad and me, and our dog Rip - taken outside the Queen's Hotel. I was 16; so now you can figure out my age!Sure wish I still looked like that -- but, unfortunately, I am now much older and much wider!!

Keeping up the family tradition, we spent many a Sunday exploring Scotland, and one of our trips was to Oban, a beautiful seaside town.

Oban Bay is dominated by McCaig's Tower, a replica of the Colosseum of Rome. A banker called John McCaig had it built between 1897 and 1900 as a memorial to his family, and to provide employment for the townsmen. It was quite a steep climb to the top of the hill but there were a couple of benches along the way on which to take a rest. The view of the bay was well worth the climb. I sat in one of the 'windows' with my legs dangling over the edge -- much to my mother's distress. There really isn't much to the tower, apart from the incredible view and that's probably why it is also known as McCaig's Folly.I took this photo of my brother, my mother and father as we walked through the town alongside the harbour, after visiting the Tower (behind, in the background). This is what the Tower and surrounding area looks like today. Hasn't changed much, except that the chimney on the distillery building is shorter now! I'd be grateful if someone could tell me what a 'Clearing Shop' is, as I have no idea!And this is the view today, from about halfway up to the Tower, I think.

We were in Oban around the time of my mother's birthday, so my brother took her to a gift shop and had her choose anything she would like as a birthday present. She made her choice, and I was SO jealous -- I wanted one, too! But it was not to be -- at least not then. My mother was thrilled with it,and actually stuck a little label on the bottom of it, to remind her of the occasion.And this is what brought her so much delight:He's a beautiful, black-headed, long-haired ram. He probably has a name, but I've looked all over the 'net and can't find one like him.

When my brother died of cancer in 1983, I am sure this fellow became even more special to my mom. And when she passed away in 2002, he became mine, and I treasure him as a reminder of my mother, my brother and our trip to Oban that year.