Chapter Six
It’s late afternoon by the time we arrive in Ullapool. We have no time to explore its pretty little streets as we drive straight into the maw of the ferry (seriously, it looks like a massive sea monster with its mouth wide open ready to swallow the cars and lorries that are waiting to board). The ferry is much bigger than I thought. There are several food outlets, a shop and even a tiny cinema. We head to a quiet corner in a pub-style restaurant. I have a quick look at the menu, but the movement of the ship is making me feel queasy already - I don’t even want to think about how it’ll feel once we leave the harbour. Instead of food, I order a whisky. The guys look at me strangely when I order a glass of the 12-year-old Highland Park, but I ignore them. Not every person under 25
