The pair are palpably fond of one another, with an easy rapport which effortlessly switched gears between humorous and heartfelt. Margolyes was generous-spirited and supportive, becoming touchingly tearful when she heard about Cummings’ childhood in Carnoustie, where his bullying father had been physically abusive. His painful memories provided an unexpected jolt of poignancy amid the jollity.

In return, he was a total gentleman to his travelling companion. Not only did Cumming do all the driving but he gallantly helped Margolyes in and out of the vehicle, pushed her wheelchair and even took responsibility for emptying the chemical toilet. Not a chore for the faint-hearted, considering Margolyes was on a high-fibre diet.

Rather than that competitive “banter” which was popularised by Top Gear and has plagued such series since – witness those interminably dreary Gordon, Fred and Gino series on ITV – Margolyes and Cummings were refreshingly kind to one another. Their warm, tender rapport reminded me of the equally lovely Mortimer & Whitehouse: Gone Fishing on BBC Two.

That’s not to say they weren’t a total hoot. No innuendo opportunity was shunned. No blue gag went uncracked. Margolyes gleefully recalled the time her pants fell off during her driving test and she was forced to “go commando”. Knickerless or not, the examiner failed her.

Margolyes has become a TV treasure in recent years, renowned for her unfiltered chat show appearances and fruity anecdotes. Only yesterday, she loudly broke wind on This Morning. The impish Cumming comfortably held his own, sporting a selection of rakish hats and reciting Macbeth soliloquies.

With these two for company, I’d be only too happy to get lost in Scotland. Perhaps Margolyes could take a break from that diet, though.