After emptying the car of things from the Netherlands – and taking a quick walk through our cottage – we drive back to our apartment in Glasgow. We are euphoric. Our house! Our garden! Our dream place! We talk non-stop about all the plans we have, conveniently forgetting that we still have another move ahead of us.
Glorified Garbage Truck
Ready for our first drive to the Highlands
The next day, the real work finally begins. Gerard picks up the moving van, along with our new furniture and the wood for the new floor. Meanwhile, I’m packing up moving boxes in our apartment. Seventeen years of memories pass through my hands. It’s quite emotional, especially when I find the cards from my parents. Every time Gerard and I arrive in Scotland, there’s a sweet card waiting for us. I’ve never thrown any of them away. The stack is quite impressive.
When Gerard returns a few hours later, he grins out the other side of his face.
“Come see the beautiful van I got,” he says, pulling me by the hand down the stairs.
What I see outside… Well, it was once a moving van, but now it looks more like a glorified garbage truck. The exterior is covered in dents and rust spots, the cargo space looks like a mud fight took place inside, and the smell is somewhere between a wet dog and a forgotten lunchbox from 1996.
“Are we really moving our stuff in this?” I wonder aloud.
“Unless you have a better idea. This was the only one available.”
I let out a deep sigh and fetch a large blanket from the house to lay on the floor. Guess we’ll just have to make do…
Stormy Ride
The next morning, we’re ready for the drive to our new home. The van is packed with household items, and Jamie looks at us as if he’s wondering what he did wrong to end up in this vehicle. The weather forecast is bad. Red alert. Storm warnings. Advice against driving high vehicles over high bridges. We exchange nervous glances.
“We can postpone it,” Gerard says.
I shake my head. “The van has to be returned in two days. We won’t make it otherwise.”
Bunch of cards send by my parents
With the wind howling through the mountains and the van occasionally swaying dangerously to the side, we navigate through the storm towards the Highlands. I silently pray that we don’t end up in a river somewhere. I only start breathing normally again when, after two long hours, we finally arrive safely at the cottage.
Lifting for Dummies
The next adventure awaits: unloading. I know I’m not a bodybuilder, but carrying our heavy dresser to the office on the first floor makes that painfully obvious. We remove the drawers, but it remains an unmanageable beast.
“Stop fussing. Just put some muscle into it,” Gerard encourages me.
“What do you think? That I’m the Hulk? These muscles are purely decorative!”
Despite my protest, I—of course—get assigned the spot at the bottom of the stairs, while Gerard stands at the top, letting the full weight rest on me. With each step up, my arms get weaker, and the dresser starts feeling like a concrete block.
“You don’t know your own strength!” he says cheerfully.
“Oh, I do,” I pant. “I just don’t have any.”
Eventually, after much groaning and a few moments where I seriously consider just letting go and accepting defeat, we get it upstairs.
Welcoming Community
When the last box is unpacked and we’re completely drained, we collapse by the fireplace. Luckily, the previous owner left a pile of firewood, but by evening, we start to wonder if it will be enough. Christmas is coming, and I want to enjoy a cozy, warm atmosphere.
I post a message in the village’s Facebook group asking if there’s any firewood available. Within no time, responses flood in. Everyone is helpful, offering tips, and even a local supplier—who normally doesn’t work on Christmas Eve—is willing to deliver wood. How amazing is that?
At Christmas Eve the move is finally complete and the firewood has been delivered. To celebrate, Gerard and I have a drink at the pub of a local hotel. As we sit at the bar, the manager approaches me.
Relaxing at the local hotel pub
“Are you the new resident looking for firewood?” she asks.
I nod, surprised.
“If you can’t find any, you can take some from us. For free.”
“That’s so kind,” I say. “Someone is already bringing wood, but really, free wasn’t necessary—we would have gladly paid for it.”
“No need,” she says. “When I moved here three years ago, everyone was there for me. Now I’m happy to do the same for someone else.”
And so there I sit, with a broad smile on my face, a warm heart, and a delicious glass of Islay whisky in my hand, surrounded by strangers who already feel like friends. People make Glasgow, yes—but apparently, the same goes for the Scottish Highlands.
Natascha Hoiting is a Dutch writer and entrepreneur. She is married to Gerard and the proud owner of wee Jamie. Since 2008, they have had a second home in Scotland, but at the end of 2024, they traded Glasgow for the Scottish Highlands. Her love for this beautiful country is a major inspiration for both her work and her daily life. She is currently working on a series of thrillers set in Scotland and also organizes training programs for Dutch groups under the name SuccesBrein (Success Brain).
