England and Scotland for fun
Day 10 - Monday, May 2 -
Scotland
Woke up to house empty except for probably Chris
(who was sleeping in the "wee room," a tiny room between larger
bedrooms that I'd slept in on my first stay with the Elses as a VaTech
student -- ironically, I was sleeping in his old room for this
trip). I got up nice and early, ate breakfast (confirmed Chris
was still in by noting the two breakfast settings remaining from the
ones Rod had laid out the night before), and was ready to hit the town
early for once (my plan was to hit this so-called Mary King's Close,
Scottish Parliament if there was time, and last bit of shopping).
Except Rod forgot to leave his key, and I wouldn't have a way to lock
the door on my way out. Oh, and worse, I was also locked in (it
was a sort of old deadbolt lock that required a key on both sides, no
switch inside).
And I really didn't want to wake Chris.
So I finally decided to go out the back door, hope
the wind didn't kick up and blow it open and invite burglars to come in
and steal everything including the bikes by the door before Chris woke
up, and spend the rest of the day hoping. Then I wrote a note to
Chris, asking him to please lock the back door when he gets up (and
hoping he doesn't sleep in too late). There!
It was raining, of course, but that was okay --
especially since I was holding off Mary King's Close for a rainy
day. I caught the 11 bus to Prince's Street, checked out Jenners
department store on the corner to see if they had things I was looking
for (and cheaper than the tourist shops on High Street), and they
didn't, so back to our regularly scheduled program.
Up the Dome (the hill on the way to the Royal Mile
hill), through the close to the Writers Museum, turn left on High
Street (the Royal Mile), and immediately bump into the shop I was
going to come back to later to see if they had that Scotland shirt I
wanted but they didn't have the right size for on Thursday or Friday
(and I didn't want to be holding the bag during the Mary King's Close
tour), but I went in (no point in spending the day going back to things
that were all ready on the path) and they had the shirt, so I got it,
then on to Mary King's Close. (I was all ready ready to sit down.)
Happily, the ticket woman said there was room in the
next tour, so I got my ticket, roamed the gift shop and bought a post
card of the Munchmallows "classic Scottish candy" that the Leavers
served us with coffee on Saturday, and sat on the floor until it was
tourtime. Then they called us, ticking off each of our names from
the list, and we walked through a door and stood on stone steps at the
top of Mary King's Close.
First off, the young tourguide, who was portraying a
17th century Edinburgh merchant, was dead beautiful -- tall and slender
in a black cavalier-looking outfit from boots to long cape slung over
his shoulder to the feathered hat propped over his eyes, and with long
dark hair, a twisty mustache and beard on his chin, and the perfect
smooth pleasant Scottish accent that I could listen to every day,
which, despite my love for Scotland, I can't say about any accent,
Scottish or otherwise (his was clear enough to be understood, positive
and confident tone, with the occasional marble rolling softly in his
throat -- for "genuine mystery," he called it a "genuINE
mastery").
He began by checking in with the lady ticking our
names off the list ("How many? Twenty-one? I'll try to bring that many
back. Hopefully all the same ones."). He also, in his very
kind voice, assured everyone that the tour was safe, but to pay
attention in the darkness to the occasional uneven stones and low
ceilings, and that he was carrying a "17th century" walkie-talkie for
help if there was a problem. (Which made an impression on me,
because so many other tours didn't give you that feeling of security
going in -- perhaps because most of the tours I took on this trip
involved scary dungeons where they threatened to kill you, but
still.) It was also this kind and gentle sincerity that
COMPLETELY SUCKED YOU IN when the ghost stories were told.
Happily, I was entranced with the whole thing.
The tour takes you to an underground street and apartments that people
lived in the 1500s and up until 1800s (something like that) -- cool
thing is, it was all above ground when they were living and working and
dying there. The city covered it up and built the Royal Exchange,
but left the closes and rooms below it intact (reasonably). It
was always known to be there, but wasn't until two years ago that they
opened it to the public.
The tour included histories of some of the residents
(including Mary King, a powerful woman in the 1600s who actually held
office and voted -- another sign how much cooler Scotland is than
England and the US), and entertaining stories of ghosts. It was
especially effective that there was very little light and lots of
spooky shadows cast (the guide's flowing cape looked really cool as he
was walking quickly in front of us and turning corners). My
favorite moment was when we heard a booming loud noise and the guide
shot out of the room, disappearing out the doorway into the next dark
room. Silence for several moments before he casually returned and
brightly announced, "Right! Come on, then!" and bounced into the room
he'd earlier shot into with no explanation. (My actual favorite moment
was when he called me "M'lady.") He also told intriguing stories,
like how people even today say that citizens with the plague had been
bricked up alive (thus the reason it was underground), and that it was
bricked up over 100 years after the plague.
On my way out, I asked the ticket seller the guide's
name so I could recommend him (a little disappointed his name wasn't
something more MacDuff or Duncan-ish than her response of Steve) and
directions to the Scottish Parliament (another new thing to see -
established in 1998, it's the first Scottish Parliament they've had
1707 - and Jonny and Chris said I haaad
to visit). "Down High Street, next to Holyrood," she told
me. "On the right?" "Yes." "Is it -- " "You can't
miss it, BELIEVE me."
And she wasn't kidding. After walking down
down down the Royal Mile (forgot how much of the street I'd been
ignoring on this trip -- I even stopped off at The Rabbie Burns cafe
for tea and a really lame scone before I got to my destination), I
walked around a curve and BAM! Modern architecture in old
Edinburgh with the Palace of Holyrood across from it and Arthur's Seat
behind it -- "sticks out like a bloody sore thumb" I believe was the
term Rod used later to describe it -- but quite amazing to
behold. Of course the security getting in was like going into an
airport (the security guard at one of the scanner lines was grateful
that I offered to take off my coat and run it through the scanner
rather than wear it while walking through the walking-through thingy --
and their walking-through thingy knows the difference between coins and
threatening metal, so you don't have to empty your pockets, which I
appreciated). The tours were booked until 4 o'clock (or 16:00, as
they would say) and I was heading back to Rhona's early for us to go
shopping, so I wandered around the front area and bought a book on the
Scottish Parliament from the gift shop (where a cashier told me they
weren't in session today - just Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, I think
she said).
The next hour was hitting the final places for
shopping -- a whiskey shop to get a bottle of fabulous Drumgray
Highland Cream (Scotland's version of Bailey's, with a single-malt
whiskey in it that Dad and I tried during our last visit and both
wanted to bring back but he didn't tell me until we were on the bus on
the way home), a copy of the Monarch exhibition book from the Gallery,
etc. Then the bus back to Rhona's (and very pleased with myself
for not asking for the busdriver to give me a shout out at my stop like
I had for both Thursday and Friday).
Arrived at the house before Rhona, so I got a chance
to sit out in the garden and rest up before she arrived minutes later.
Jonny and Laura returned from their trip as we were heading out to the
kiltmaker shop ("Are ya' buyin' a kilt for yourself, Madalyn?" Jonny
teased me in his booming voice -- "No, Jonny, girls don't wear kilts!"
-- I was looking for a scarf for myself, and Rhona was shopping for a
jacket for Jonny) and groceries for dinner -- dinner for most of the
family, as Chris was sticking around for dinner as well.
The first place Rhona took me was a fine kiltmaker
place, which reminded me of a nice formalwear store. Scotsmen
wear kilts for several occasions, especially weddings and semi-formal
events, and the women wear their clan's tartan plaid in skirts and
scarves (rather than a kilt, they'd wear a plain dress with a tartan
sash over one shoulder -- or, in the case of Rhona at Alastair's
wedding, a really nice dress and hat with no tartan in sight). We
looked through books of tartan clan samples from different weavers, and
Rhona pointed out the different weight and types of material, as well
as the different colors available (the brothers all wore different
colored kilts at Alastair's wedding - like hunting, modern, ancient,
etc). Then she walked me around the store and showed me the
different types of jackets and when one would wear them -- there were
only about four or five styles, the more casual green one (that you
often see Prince Charles wearing when he's in Scotland) that you wear
during the day (often seen at weddings, as they're usually in the day),
and the sleeker black coats of different lengths that are worn in the
evening (for dancing at the ceilidh afterward). Then the shoes --
daywear looked like the classic dress shoe American men wear, and the
evening (dancing) shoes were softer with laces that go up the leg a
couple of inches. Then there are the ties (tartan plaid, bow for
the evening or formal events and long for the more casual), the socks
(black or white, depending if they go with the tartan), and that pouch
thingy I can't remember the name of as well as the things that go over
the sock garters that hold a dagger. (Rhona said the boys are getting
into trouble trying to get into clubs and other places if they're
wearing their full gear, because they can't have "weapons" on them,
which is part of the ensemble.)
Anyway, I'd been pleased to discover during my
touristy shop hits on the Royal Mile that Mom's family name has a
tartan, so I got to feel more included in the tartan talk on this trip,
and decided to try to buy a scarf for this winter. This place,
however, was more about custom-made wear (since Rod's English and
Rhona's father's name isn't Scottish, their family goes back to her
mother's family name of MacMath -- which uses the Matheson tartan --
which isn't common enough for ready-made, so they generally have to go
with custom). So we went to the more touristy (but off the beaten
mile) store that had a fine selection of readymade tartan wear, and I
got my scarf.
On the way back, we stopped at the grocery store
(where the recycling bin was so packed, Rhona wound up taking her
smashed tin cans back home) for dinner fixin's. She was beginning
to load up on strawberries for dessert, and I gently reminded her about
that famous Scottish raspberry thing she'd said she'd make -- "Oh,
right! Right!" she said, swapping out the strawberries for raspberries
("Unless it's too difficult," I'd assured her -- "Oh, no, it's dead
easy," she responded enthusiastically).
Back at home, dinner was awesome -- stuffed chicken,
ratatouille (which the boys began to make jokes about while Rhona
laughed and Rod panicked and tried to restrain them because of the
"company," while I commented on the famous Fawlty Towers episode with
ratatouille, and Rod said life with their family was all Fawlty Towers), boiled tatties and
carrots, followed by the tasty Cranachan dessert (a not-too-sweet
whipped cream and yogurt with toasted oatmeal and a touch of whiskey
concoction missed with fresh raspberries). Afterward, Jonny and
Laura took off to their flat to work on the plaster in their kitchen,
while Rhona went to her Thai-chi class, Chris camped in front of the TV
(Ian McKellen was gueststarring on East
Enders, which depressed Rod to no end)(it would be like Robert
De Niro appearing on Dynasty),
Rod cleaned up the kitchen, and I went upstairs to consider packing,
which I bailed on for later, opting instead to hang out with the family
(all of whom eventually returned for extra visiting).
There had been some debate between Rod and Rhona on
who would take me to the airport in the morning - Rod saying it was on
the way to his office, but Rhona wanted the car for the day, so he'd be
driving me to the airport and then coming back to leave the car and
take his motorcycle to work, which would make him late, and he can't
afford to come in late these days with so much to do and -- Rhona said
she'd be happy to take me, especially if he took the car for petrol
this evening. Excellent trade off! Except later in the
evening, while Jonny and Laura and I were in the non-TV sitting room
chatting, I commented with concern some bustling from another part of
the house that I could hear, and Laura replied with a teensy bit of
sarcasm that "SOMEone is getting petrol, so everyone in the house has
to know it." Moments later, the door opened and Rod stuck his
head in and told us that just going to get petrol and he'll be back
shortly.
Jonny also took it upon himself to quiz me on my
Shakespeare, once he'd heard that's what I studied at university, and
opened Romeo and Juliet and
said, "Okay, what line comes next -- " Thank heavens he happened
to happen upon one of the easier lines that I also knew -- "'What's in
a name?'" "A rose by any other name -- " I began, which greatly
impressed him. (I had to memorize something like 50 lines from Romeo and Juliet in high school,
and he hit the section I still remember.) Then we both agreed
that Shakespeare is impossible to understand when you just sit down to
read it, and he added -- I was so pleased to hear -- that he found
Robert Burns just as impossible. (When a Scot says it, I'm off
the hook.)
More chit-chat, less than final goodbyes as everyone
promised to see me off in the morning (except Chris, who'd said goodbye
and hit the road back home shortly before). Happily, when I did
finally get upstairs and do the packing, it didn't take as long to get
everything in the suitcases (and extra shopping bag for a second carry
on was brilliant on my part) as I took in London, so I managed to get
to bed shortly after one.
England and
Scotland for fun
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