I’m back after a whistle-stop, action-packed tour of the north.

I’ve done fifteen hours’ driving between Glasgow and various points of the highlands, done far too much ceilidh dancing at a friend’s wedding, seen family (including a new addition), caught up with lots of Inverness friends (who made me feel very glad to be moving back), met lots of new people, and got very little sleep.

After eighteen months of not driving, I’d forgotten it was such an intense, energy-consuming activity. Thankfully the weather was mostly lovely, and Rannoch Moor in the Friday evening sunshine as I headed north was amazing.

While it was nice to be back behind the wheel again, and the hire car was essential for the itinerary, I’m still not convinced I actually enjoy driving all that much.

For a start, there’s very little opportunity to sit back and enjoy the views, and so despite my journeys being some of the most beautiful you can do in Scotland, I’ve taken very few photos.

Moreover, this weekend saw the major roads of the highlands (never the safest routes at the best of times) over-run with traffic. I found myself stuck behind a combination of cars, lorries, buses and caravans, and swarmed around insect-like by a seemingly incessant army of Dutch and German motorcyclists.

And while we’ve all heard of Highlands Before Pylons, I’d be quite tempted to form Highlands Against French Camper Van Convoys.

Except the acronym is rubbish.