Emotionally drained

That's what a visit to the Highlands does for a girl.

Well, a girl like me.

(Nay. Woman. Who am I kidding?)

You see, I am moved by hand signals.

That special language that drivers have.

That 'thank you for letting me zip past as you sit patiently in the Passing Place lay-by' hand sign. Or the reciprocal 'oh, really! it was no trouble - thank you! please do have a pleasant day!'.

Or the hand out of the window circular movement 'please overtake me - I realise I am driving appallingly slowly and you clearly have some urgent business to which to attend - be my guest and overtake...I've looked ahead and there's nothing coming in the opposite direction'.

Or the showing of the open palm and gentle Royal wave to a pedestrian: 'no, you are not mistaken: there is no green man - nonetheless, I want you to feel able to cross the road in safety'.

Y'see. That sense of kindred spiritedness? It touches me. It makes me feel part of a greater whole.

And let's face it, it's a language which is accessible. No years of studying or three-hour examinations are required to reach a reasonable level of proficiency.

Like the best things in life, it's intuitive. Hey, you don't remember your driving instructor taking time out of your hour-long lesson to talk you through 'Hand Gesturing To Fellow Road Users', do you?

It's biologically hard-wired.

Amen to that.

But anyway, back to those hand gestures. Even though I minimised my 'Passing Place lay-by' thankyous to a flip of my palm (thumb erstwhile locked around steering wheel), I must have done it about a hundred times.

And now I feel tired.

But it was worth it, because we got views like this: