I have spent the last week visiting customers and doing market research in what Owen (my dad) and coincidentally, Brett (my partner) both call their ancestral home - Bonny Scotland.
Neither men have got any real links - However, Owen does have a slightly more substantial claim than Brett, thanks to Sir Walter Scott the Scottish novelist and poet.
Scott penned The Waverley Novels, a huge portfolio of Georgian stories all based in Scotland, these books were my grandmothers favourite books, - Ivanhoe, Rob Roy, The Lady of the Lake and many many more.
At home I still have them, the full set (42) red leather bound, her favourites so well leafed that the pages have fallen loose and many with tiny spider like notes in the margins.
Grandma Hilda adored all aspects of Scott's writing especially his descriptive prose of The Highlands, so much so that she named all three of her sons after characters she admired from Scotts novels, Kenneth, Cyril and Owen.
Owen, she named after a character in Rob Roy, I always think it is interesting to compare the similarities between "Mr Owen" mentor for Frank Osbaldstone the books young narrator and Owen, my father.
Character - Mr Owen, head clerk and family friend was described as the perfect tutor for Frank in the ways of the family business, one of the lines that resonates the most are spoken by Franks father, he concludes his glowing description of his sons soon to be business guide by saying " You see Owen has natural notions of equity that are becoming of a British Merchant" .
I wonder at this and think that Grandma obviously already had some inclination of what would be expected of her youngest son, that one day he would be become a key member of the family business, very quickly, taking over as managing director and running it as a gentleman British merchant with a very fair and honourable hand.
So driving through The Highlands this week, looking in awe at the majestic beauty I had time between far flung appointments to consider how strange and influential the pull of this glorious country really is.
I could of written about the colours, rich deep and velvety, greens, purples, blues and greys.
I could have written about the welcoming and friendly people, with a dry sense of humour and a shrewd business acumen.
I could have written about the food - oh my goodness, the quality of their traditional cooking and local produce is exquisite.
But driving through the highlands tonight with the sun going down, I could only see Ivanhoe, Rob Roy and their clans in full tartan regalia stalking across the heather and only wish Grandma had been lucky enough to have seen their beauty in real life rather than through images painted by a 17th century novelist.
My thoughts - We are exceptionally lucky now a days to see the sights our ancestors could only dream of.