Trip Report: Sheep Rule. A Week in Scotland
Jan 27th, 2015, 12:35 PM
#1
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Trip Report: Sheep Rule. A Week in Scotland
Recap: In week one, Sue and Mr. Sue rode the rails from CDG airport to Schiphol and thence to Haarlem, at one point crossing the turf that was the site of Operation Market Garden. We dropped into Ghent to see a bridge, into Bruges to bike around and gawk, and Antwerp to sneak a peek at a work by Mr. Rubens. Over an extended (four day) weekend, we surveyed Amsterdam and Haarlem, including a bike ride over the marshes, and a visit to the Reichsmuseum. Hello, Mr. Vermeer.
It's now Tuesday and we're heading into week two. Our mission is to see a little of the capital of Scotland, then whirl around the western highlands of Scotland by car.
Day 1 (day 8 of entire trip). Haarlem-Schiphol-London- Edinburgh. Schiphol airport has some very comfy chairs, including one that roughly resembles a half of an egg. The egg half blocks out a lot of sound, so I drop down gratefully into it. We got here earlier than expected, so have a bit of time to kill until our flight to Edinburgh via London.
The day gets eaten up pretty well by our commute to Scotland. Note: If you are heading straight for Scotland, flying in from North America, you'll likely have about a half day left by the time you get into Edinburgh.
Day 2. Edinburgh, full day number one. Someone less lazy than us could have whipped downtown and then off to an art gallery, or climbed up to Arthur's seat. But this morning I think Arthur had the better idea, because he apparently was up mainly for sitting down. So spouse does the crossword puzzle over breakfast. I have an extra long hot shower.
Fortified by a morning off, we head into town, check in to our downtown hotel, and then head over to the National Museum of Scotland. Whoever redesigned this place tried very hard to make it interesting, but they also made it very easy to get lost. Forewarned is forearmed.
On the other hand, it was a great place to refresh my ninth grade history lessons on the unification of the crowns of Scotland and England. Spoiler alert: Elizabeth dies, and her half-nephew James (who was already King of Scotland as James VI) also assumes, with England's agreement, the title of James I of England. This was a 'personal union' as opposed to a federation, and I won't spoil the story, suffice to say that not everyone was happy with the arrangement. This will culminate with a battle on a certain moor some time later, but I'm getting ahead of myself - over a century ahead, which is fast even for me.
We also find some great exhibits on that most famous of Scottish engineer/inventors, James Watt. These involve demonstrations of actual working equipment. Spouse is fascinated. All in all, worth the time spent.
It's now Tuesday and we're heading into week two. Our mission is to see a little of the capital of Scotland, then whirl around the western highlands of Scotland by car.
Day 1 (day 8 of entire trip). Haarlem-Schiphol-London- Edinburgh. Schiphol airport has some very comfy chairs, including one that roughly resembles a half of an egg. The egg half blocks out a lot of sound, so I drop down gratefully into it. We got here earlier than expected, so have a bit of time to kill until our flight to Edinburgh via London.
The day gets eaten up pretty well by our commute to Scotland. Note: If you are heading straight for Scotland, flying in from North America, you'll likely have about a half day left by the time you get into Edinburgh.
Day 2. Edinburgh, full day number one. Someone less lazy than us could have whipped downtown and then off to an art gallery, or climbed up to Arthur's seat. But this morning I think Arthur had the better idea, because he apparently was up mainly for sitting down. So spouse does the crossword puzzle over breakfast. I have an extra long hot shower.
Fortified by a morning off, we head into town, check in to our downtown hotel, and then head over to the National Museum of Scotland. Whoever redesigned this place tried very hard to make it interesting, but they also made it very easy to get lost. Forewarned is forearmed.
On the other hand, it was a great place to refresh my ninth grade history lessons on the unification of the crowns of Scotland and England. Spoiler alert: Elizabeth dies, and her half-nephew James (who was already King of Scotland as James VI) also assumes, with England's agreement, the title of James I of England. This was a 'personal union' as opposed to a federation, and I won't spoil the story, suffice to say that not everyone was happy with the arrangement. This will culminate with a battle on a certain moor some time later, but I'm getting ahead of myself - over a century ahead, which is fast even for me.
We also find some great exhibits on that most famous of Scottish engineer/inventors, James Watt. These involve demonstrations of actual working equipment. Spouse is fascinated. All in all, worth the time spent.
Jan 27th, 2015, 12:38 PM
#2
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Day 2 (continued) I meant for us to go up to Arthur's seat in the evening, because of his inspiration to us earlier in the day, but somehow we just find ourselves wandering about downtown, along the Royal Mile and thereabouts, taking it all in. I don't find the stone of which many of the buildings are constructed to be very attractive, but the friendliness of the city makes up for this.
Day 3. Edinburgh, full day number 2. Off to the TI to make a few decisions about the day's activities. We end up opting for a tour of 'The Real Mary King's Close.' This was a paid tour featuring tour guides as character actors in period dress. I have to say, the insight the tour gave into living conditions in the 'closes' does not, shall we say, leave one longing to live in the period, and certainly not in quarters like the ones we saw on the tour. But yes, we enjoyed the tour.
After lunch, we head up to Edinburgh castle where we drink in the view for some time, as it is a lovely, breezy spring day. The castle itself is well worth a look, especially for 'the Honours' - stuff used prior to the union for coronations.
Again, afterward we spend a deal of time just wandering, the joys of an itinerary not too tightly paced. (Note: Holyrood palace is closed in May to the public, as the owner insists on using the place in May, darn her.)
Day 4. The Scottish Highlands: Edinburgh to Glencoe. We pick up the car at Edinburgh airport; we have a bit of difficulty with our GPS as it shows us where we are, but won't program a route unless one taps on the map to indicate one's destination. This leaves me, official navigator, in the absurd position of having to consult a paper map, of which fortunately we have a good one, to tell the GPS where to go, so it can tell us how to go there. A bit awkward, but we manage.
Because of the delay fiddling with the GPS, we reach Tyndrum only for a fairly late lunch. It's late afternoon by the time we are racing across Rannoch moor to find ourselves in the valley where occurred that infamous massacre so long ago. If I go back to Scotland, I'm coming back here: this WAS the Highlands of my imagination.
We check into our bandb in Ballachulish, just a few km past Glencoe, have an early supper at a local establishment, and take a walk around the village. And see sheep, sheep at last.
Day 3. Edinburgh, full day number 2. Off to the TI to make a few decisions about the day's activities. We end up opting for a tour of 'The Real Mary King's Close.' This was a paid tour featuring tour guides as character actors in period dress. I have to say, the insight the tour gave into living conditions in the 'closes' does not, shall we say, leave one longing to live in the period, and certainly not in quarters like the ones we saw on the tour. But yes, we enjoyed the tour.
After lunch, we head up to Edinburgh castle where we drink in the view for some time, as it is a lovely, breezy spring day. The castle itself is well worth a look, especially for 'the Honours' - stuff used prior to the union for coronations.
Again, afterward we spend a deal of time just wandering, the joys of an itinerary not too tightly paced. (Note: Holyrood palace is closed in May to the public, as the owner insists on using the place in May, darn her.)
Day 4. The Scottish Highlands: Edinburgh to Glencoe. We pick up the car at Edinburgh airport; we have a bit of difficulty with our GPS as it shows us where we are, but won't program a route unless one taps on the map to indicate one's destination. This leaves me, official navigator, in the absurd position of having to consult a paper map, of which fortunately we have a good one, to tell the GPS where to go, so it can tell us how to go there. A bit awkward, but we manage.
Because of the delay fiddling with the GPS, we reach Tyndrum only for a fairly late lunch. It's late afternoon by the time we are racing across Rannoch moor to find ourselves in the valley where occurred that infamous massacre so long ago. If I go back to Scotland, I'm coming back here: this WAS the Highlands of my imagination.
We check into our bandb in Ballachulish, just a few km past Glencoe, have an early supper at a local establishment, and take a walk around the village. And see sheep, sheep at last.
Jan 27th, 2015, 12:43 PM
#3
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Day 5 - Glencoe to Ratagan, near the Isle of Skye bridge.
This morning we're off to the Glencoe visitor centre. In addition to the infamous massacre, there are exhibits on local geology, flora and fauna. But behind the museum is a real treat, an actual bluebell wood. I've been wanting to walk in one ever since I saw the film 'Howard's End' - and here one is, with the delicate blossoms spilling all over the wooded hills on this misty May morning.
We tear ourselves away, and motor off to Fort William where we find a park near a lock on the Caledonian canal to eat our picnic lunch.
I gave thought when planning the trip to heading to Skye via the ferry, but I've had mixed luck with ferries, they always seem to suffer a mechanical breakdown when we come anywhere near them. And I hated the thought of having to be restricted by ferry schedules. So we compromise: we detour as far as Glenfinnan, site of Prince Charlie's landing, and of course the viaduct made famous in the film 'Harry Potter.' Alas, the famous steam train isn't set to start the 2014 season until the following week, so the viaduct sits quiet. But the view and the monument are lovely. Well worth the detour.
We turn around, zip off back to Fort William, stopping this time for gas, and then continue on to the Commando monument just past Spean bridge. There's a whole crowd of antique autos and their drivers up on the lookoff with us; what I wouldn't give to be zipping along in an open-topped two person antique roadster on a day like this!
At Invergarry, we head west on the A87 towards Skye, passing Loch Cluanie and the 'Seven Sisters' - or was it Five, I am never too good at distinguishing mountain peaks. The scenery here gives Glencoe a run for the money. Actually, those who have visited Nova Scotia (literal translation, New Scotland) will note that the Scottish immigrants thereto were not entirely stretching their imaginations - there really are similarities.
Pulling into Ratagan, we are greeted by the charming sight of what will prove to be our favourite lodging of the trip, a small 'restaurant with rooms' known as Grant's at Craigellachie. It's the kind of place where exactly seven diners sit down to dinner, all overnight guests of the establishment, and before the meal is through we're all chatting together. The place is run by a couple and he does the cooking, and great cooking it is, local lamb, local fish, and seasonal vegetables. He comes out at the conclusion of the meal and chats to us all, it was a great evening.
This morning we're off to the Glencoe visitor centre. In addition to the infamous massacre, there are exhibits on local geology, flora and fauna. But behind the museum is a real treat, an actual bluebell wood. I've been wanting to walk in one ever since I saw the film 'Howard's End' - and here one is, with the delicate blossoms spilling all over the wooded hills on this misty May morning.
We tear ourselves away, and motor off to Fort William where we find a park near a lock on the Caledonian canal to eat our picnic lunch.
I gave thought when planning the trip to heading to Skye via the ferry, but I've had mixed luck with ferries, they always seem to suffer a mechanical breakdown when we come anywhere near them. And I hated the thought of having to be restricted by ferry schedules. So we compromise: we detour as far as Glenfinnan, site of Prince Charlie's landing, and of course the viaduct made famous in the film 'Harry Potter.' Alas, the famous steam train isn't set to start the 2014 season until the following week, so the viaduct sits quiet. But the view and the monument are lovely. Well worth the detour.
We turn around, zip off back to Fort William, stopping this time for gas, and then continue on to the Commando monument just past Spean bridge. There's a whole crowd of antique autos and their drivers up on the lookoff with us; what I wouldn't give to be zipping along in an open-topped two person antique roadster on a day like this!
At Invergarry, we head west on the A87 towards Skye, passing Loch Cluanie and the 'Seven Sisters' - or was it Five, I am never too good at distinguishing mountain peaks. The scenery here gives Glencoe a run for the money. Actually, those who have visited Nova Scotia (literal translation, New Scotland) will note that the Scottish immigrants thereto were not entirely stretching their imaginations - there really are similarities.
Pulling into Ratagan, we are greeted by the charming sight of what will prove to be our favourite lodging of the trip, a small 'restaurant with rooms' known as Grant's at Craigellachie. It's the kind of place where exactly seven diners sit down to dinner, all overnight guests of the establishment, and before the meal is through we're all chatting together. The place is run by a couple and he does the cooking, and great cooking it is, local lamb, local fish, and seasonal vegetables. He comes out at the conclusion of the meal and chats to us all, it was a great evening.
Jan 28th, 2015, 07:04 AM
#8
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
The night of day 6. Banquo -Guido and Lady Sue MacBeth.
In this, the land of Cawdor, I had some mind to think we would need aid to sleep, but mainly because of traffic noise in Inverness, and not something more sinister. So I chose a hotel just on the outskirts of the town, and also for its being convenient to the turn to Culloden, which we would be visiting the morrow morn.
We had snagged a fairly good rate for this normally fairly pricy hotel, possibly because it is a Sunday night. Also possibly because it is a Sunday night in early May, the place is to all appearances very sparsely subscribed. There are all of four people sitting in a lounge large enough to entertain MacBeth's entire clan. No ancient weapons are displayed on the walls, the most murderous thing about the place are the thoughts one entertains for the decorator for having that carpet installed, but the emptiness, and the still leafless trees to be seen beyond the window, give the place a certain haunted feel.
We pick up the key and not without difficulty find our room, which is down some very narrow corridors and behind a couple of swinging doors, either installed there as fire doors or soundproofing or both. The room is spacious, quiet and comfortable, the bed inviting. Spouse elects to amuse himself elsewhere for a bit while I decide to take a pre-prandial nap, in the hope my physical state will improve. I know spouse, he will probably do a crossword and then nap himself in the cavernous lounge, despite his insistence that he's going for a walk.
I insert myself under a sheet only as the room is warm, and am soon asleep, perchance to dream.
I dream I'm back at last night's inn, although for some reason I'm outside sitting up a tree watching my fellow guests through the well-lit windows of the tiny dining room. They seem to be enjoying themselves. But something isn't quite right. They are not dressed in contemporary clothing. The wine glasses look odd, because they are not glass but metal. And the tree I'm sitting in is starting to hug me with its branches, a little too snugly. I feel hot. The diners in their funny clothes are floating around the tiny dining room. And good God, what is that banging sound, why the cries for HELP! HELP!
I am awake and find that there is no ancient Scottish banquet going on, no malevolent tree has me in its clutches, only the bedsheet. I am indeed hot, but only because the room is sweltering. It was only a....HELP! HELP!
That's not my imagination. Someone is outside my door yelling, pounding on it hard enough to make me wonder why it isn't cracking.
I extricate myself from the bedsheet, fling myself across the bed, and yank open the door.
In this, the land of Cawdor, I had some mind to think we would need aid to sleep, but mainly because of traffic noise in Inverness, and not something more sinister. So I chose a hotel just on the outskirts of the town, and also for its being convenient to the turn to Culloden, which we would be visiting the morrow morn.
We had snagged a fairly good rate for this normally fairly pricy hotel, possibly because it is a Sunday night. Also possibly because it is a Sunday night in early May, the place is to all appearances very sparsely subscribed. There are all of four people sitting in a lounge large enough to entertain MacBeth's entire clan. No ancient weapons are displayed on the walls, the most murderous thing about the place are the thoughts one entertains for the decorator for having that carpet installed, but the emptiness, and the still leafless trees to be seen beyond the window, give the place a certain haunted feel.
We pick up the key and not without difficulty find our room, which is down some very narrow corridors and behind a couple of swinging doors, either installed there as fire doors or soundproofing or both. The room is spacious, quiet and comfortable, the bed inviting. Spouse elects to amuse himself elsewhere for a bit while I decide to take a pre-prandial nap, in the hope my physical state will improve. I know spouse, he will probably do a crossword and then nap himself in the cavernous lounge, despite his insistence that he's going for a walk.
I insert myself under a sheet only as the room is warm, and am soon asleep, perchance to dream.
I dream I'm back at last night's inn, although for some reason I'm outside sitting up a tree watching my fellow guests through the well-lit windows of the tiny dining room. They seem to be enjoying themselves. But something isn't quite right. They are not dressed in contemporary clothing. The wine glasses look odd, because they are not glass but metal. And the tree I'm sitting in is starting to hug me with its branches, a little too snugly. I feel hot. The diners in their funny clothes are floating around the tiny dining room. And good God, what is that banging sound, why the cries for HELP! HELP!
I am awake and find that there is no ancient Scottish banquet going on, no malevolent tree has me in its clutches, only the bedsheet. I am indeed hot, but only because the room is sweltering. It was only a....HELP! HELP!
That's not my imagination. Someone is outside my door yelling, pounding on it hard enough to make me wonder why it isn't cracking.
I extricate myself from the bedsheet, fling myself across the bed, and yank open the door.
Jan 28th, 2015, 07:11 AM
#10
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Wait a minute, help help, that was out of sequence. I have gotten us to the night of Day 6, when I have left my readers wondering how this can be, when according to the chronology of my tale, the morn has yet to dawn on it. Ahem. We will suspend my animation in front of the door in the Inverness hotel, and go back a few hours.
Day 6. Ratagan to Inverness, with a detour to Skye. The Scottish play, revisited
Today once again we strike it lucky with the weather. Other than the odd mist, the sun has been shining in a part of the world not known for sun. It makes for a cheery atmosphere as we consume a breakfast equal to last night's repast. It's hard to leave this place.
En route to Skye bridge, we stop at Eilean Donan castle; just a photo stop this time. Once across the bridge, we're headed to a 'single track' road, the B8083 out of Broadford in the direction of Elgol. A single track road is not for the feint of heart, it's about as wide as a typical driveway with occasional bulges that are designed to allow two way traffic to pass - carefully. But something about this road called to us, we just had to follow it down for a bit, and we did, as far as Torrin, where of all things we find a traditional bright red public telephone 'call box' seated in a valley opposite a white stone cottage. I read 'The Flight of the Heron' as a girl, and if Ewen Cameron were to live anywhere, surely it would be in a place like this.
Okay, enough of romanticism, how about a quick mini-hike.
Well, maybe not. We didn't bring real hiking gear but thought this wouldn't deter us from just a short stroll. Wrong, the path is far too boggy. Oh well, more room for the sheep. Baaaah. Scottish sheep, I might add, act like they own the roads. And occasionally, they assume command. Baaaaah.
Back on the main road, we drive as far as Loch Sligachan, passing the signature barren green hills of Skye. But there's a problem; there are few places to pull over to enjoy the views, for the main road while it has two lanes, has no shoulders. But it's okay; this was meant to be just a peek at Skye, and we have had one. Time to return to Broadford and scout out a place for a light lunch.
This was, indeed, a very quick look at Skye. Nonetheless, it was a fine day out. I can now claim we've been over the sea to Skye, even if we did fudge the part about the speeding bonnie boat.
[If that part mystifies anyone, this should fill in the gaps.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Skye_Boat_Song
We return the way we came yesterday, before once again heading north to Inverness. It's very misty for a bit, but it brightens up again in time for our photostop at Urquhart castle. (This is possible without going through formal admission, since one can glimpse the ruins through the trees from the parking lot.)
I'm feeling a bit under the weather again by the time we check into our hotel just outside Inverness. Yes, THAT hotel.
Day 6. Ratagan to Inverness, with a detour to Skye. The Scottish play, revisited
Today once again we strike it lucky with the weather. Other than the odd mist, the sun has been shining in a part of the world not known for sun. It makes for a cheery atmosphere as we consume a breakfast equal to last night's repast. It's hard to leave this place.
En route to Skye bridge, we stop at Eilean Donan castle; just a photo stop this time. Once across the bridge, we're headed to a 'single track' road, the B8083 out of Broadford in the direction of Elgol. A single track road is not for the feint of heart, it's about as wide as a typical driveway with occasional bulges that are designed to allow two way traffic to pass - carefully. But something about this road called to us, we just had to follow it down for a bit, and we did, as far as Torrin, where of all things we find a traditional bright red public telephone 'call box' seated in a valley opposite a white stone cottage. I read 'The Flight of the Heron' as a girl, and if Ewen Cameron were to live anywhere, surely it would be in a place like this.
Okay, enough of romanticism, how about a quick mini-hike.
Well, maybe not. We didn't bring real hiking gear but thought this wouldn't deter us from just a short stroll. Wrong, the path is far too boggy. Oh well, more room for the sheep. Baaaah. Scottish sheep, I might add, act like they own the roads. And occasionally, they assume command. Baaaaah.
Back on the main road, we drive as far as Loch Sligachan, passing the signature barren green hills of Skye. But there's a problem; there are few places to pull over to enjoy the views, for the main road while it has two lanes, has no shoulders. But it's okay; this was meant to be just a peek at Skye, and we have had one. Time to return to Broadford and scout out a place for a light lunch.
This was, indeed, a very quick look at Skye. Nonetheless, it was a fine day out. I can now claim we've been over the sea to Skye, even if we did fudge the part about the speeding bonnie boat.
[If that part mystifies anyone, this should fill in the gaps.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Skye_Boat_Song
We return the way we came yesterday, before once again heading north to Inverness. It's very misty for a bit, but it brightens up again in time for our photostop at Urquhart castle. (This is possible without going through formal admission, since one can glimpse the ruins through the trees from the parking lot.)
I'm feeling a bit under the weather again by the time we check into our hotel just outside Inverness. Yes, THAT hotel.
Jan 28th, 2015, 07:15 AM
#11
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Okay, I have left myself in suspended animation in front of a door.
To spare my readers flipping back and forth, I shall re-insert the chapter:
The night of day 6. Banquo -Guido and Lady Sue MacBeth.
In this, the land of Cawdor, I had some mind to think we would need aid to sleep, but mainly because of traffic noise in Inverness, and not something more sinister. So I chose "The New Drumrossie Hotel" just on the outskirts of the town, and also for its being convenient to the turn to Culloden, which we would be visiting the morrow morn.
We had snagged a fairly good rate for this normally fairly pricy hotel, possibly because it is a Sunday night. Also possibly because it is a Sunday night in early May, the place is to all appearances very sparsely subscribed. There are all of four people sitting in a lounge large enough to entertain MacBeth's entire clan. No ancient weapons are displayed on the walls, the most murderous thing about the place are the thoughts one entertains for the decorator for having that carpet installed, but the emptiness, and the still leafless trees to be seen beyond the window, give the place a certain haunted feel.
We pick up the key and not without difficulty find our room, which is down some very narrow corridors and behind a couple of swinging doors, either installed there as fire doors or soundproofing or both. The room is comfortable, the bed inviting. Spouse elects to amuse himself for a bit while I decide to take a pre-prandial nap, in the hope my physical state will improve. I know spouse, he will probably do a crossword and then nap himself in the cavernous lounge, despite his insistence that he's going for a walk.
I insert myself under a sheet only as the room is warm, and am soon asleep, perchance to dream.
I dream I'm back at last night's inn, although for some reason I'm outside sitting up a tree watching my fellow guests through the well-lit windows of the tiny dining room. They seem to be enjoying themselves. But something isn't quite right. They are not dressed in contemporary clothing. The wine glasses look odd, because they are not glass but metal. And the tree I'm sitting in is starting to hug me with its branches, a little too snugly. I feel hot. The diners in their funny clothes are floating around the tiny dining room. And good God, what is that banging sound, why the cries for HELP! HELP!
I am awake and find that there is no ancient Scottish banquet going on, no malevolent tree has me in its clutches, only the bedsheet. I am indeed hot, but only because the room is sweltering. It was only a....HELP! HELP!
That's not my imagination. Someone is outside my door yelling, pounding on it hard enough to make me wonder why it isn't cracking.
I extricate myself from the bedsheet, fling myself across the bed, and yank open the door.
To spare my readers flipping back and forth, I shall re-insert the chapter:
The night of day 6. Banquo -Guido and Lady Sue MacBeth.
In this, the land of Cawdor, I had some mind to think we would need aid to sleep, but mainly because of traffic noise in Inverness, and not something more sinister. So I chose "The New Drumrossie Hotel" just on the outskirts of the town, and also for its being convenient to the turn to Culloden, which we would be visiting the morrow morn.
We had snagged a fairly good rate for this normally fairly pricy hotel, possibly because it is a Sunday night. Also possibly because it is a Sunday night in early May, the place is to all appearances very sparsely subscribed. There are all of four people sitting in a lounge large enough to entertain MacBeth's entire clan. No ancient weapons are displayed on the walls, the most murderous thing about the place are the thoughts one entertains for the decorator for having that carpet installed, but the emptiness, and the still leafless trees to be seen beyond the window, give the place a certain haunted feel.
We pick up the key and not without difficulty find our room, which is down some very narrow corridors and behind a couple of swinging doors, either installed there as fire doors or soundproofing or both. The room is comfortable, the bed inviting. Spouse elects to amuse himself for a bit while I decide to take a pre-prandial nap, in the hope my physical state will improve. I know spouse, he will probably do a crossword and then nap himself in the cavernous lounge, despite his insistence that he's going for a walk.
I insert myself under a sheet only as the room is warm, and am soon asleep, perchance to dream.
I dream I'm back at last night's inn, although for some reason I'm outside sitting up a tree watching my fellow guests through the well-lit windows of the tiny dining room. They seem to be enjoying themselves. But something isn't quite right. They are not dressed in contemporary clothing. The wine glasses look odd, because they are not glass but metal. And the tree I'm sitting in is starting to hug me with its branches, a little too snugly. I feel hot. The diners in their funny clothes are floating around the tiny dining room. And good God, what is that banging sound, why the cries for HELP! HELP!
I am awake and find that there is no ancient Scottish banquet going on, no malevolent tree has me in its clutches, only the bedsheet. I am indeed hot, but only because the room is sweltering. It was only a....HELP! HELP!
That's not my imagination. Someone is outside my door yelling, pounding on it hard enough to make me wonder why it isn't cracking.
I extricate myself from the bedsheet, fling myself across the bed, and yank open the door.
Jan 28th, 2015, 10:32 AM
#13
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
(Night of Day 6, continued) A young woman, maybe twenty-something, is standing in the hall. "Help, help" she repeats. "Something something something." I can't understand her. I don't think I'm thinking. I'm trying to wake up. She is pulling on my arm. Wait, I say, I need my key. KEY, I say again as she doesn't seem to process it the first time.
Meanwhile she has her fingers on my arm so tight, the malevolent tree of my dream seems benign by comparison.
I let her pull me out the door, my key tight in my free hand. What can be the matter? MacBeth, Banquo, daggers dripping with blood, smack yourself awake Sue, don't be stupid.
The door of their room is propped open with a shoe. I step over it and push in.
Good God, there is indeed blood in the room. On the bathroom floor, and on the towel that a man is holding around his foot as he sits on the bed.
"Is okay" he says. "I cut my foot on glass." He nods with his head toward the bathroom, where the remnants of...something...a cosmetic mirror? are reflecting the bathroom light.
(Brain to Sue: Use me.)
I call the front desk from their room phone.
To my companions of two minutes I say, "Come with me". With my help the patient, one 'Guido' manages to tie the towel around his foot. His now much calmer lady and self provide support to get him down the narrow hall and into spouse's and my room. Guido sits on the toilet in our mercifully oversized, and glass-free bathroom, while I fetch the first aid kit that spouse, bless him, always packs. Then I wash my hands - out, out, damned spot. I am awake, but MacBeth is still with me.
I manage a good enough Girl Guide dressing that I think will hold up till Guido can see a doctor. I am standing up when I hear the room door open, watch as spouse materializes in the bathroom doorway.
I process the scene as spouse must see it. I am standing in our hotel room bathroom with two strangers and ...I look down, and realize that my blue jeans are not sitting around my waist where they should be but are in fact at the foot of the bed, where I kicked them off earlier before climbing in for my nap. Lucinda and Guido possess, it seems, either too little English or too much tact to have pointed out that their saviour has been ministering to them in a tee shirt and her underwear.
I open my mouth to attempt to explain but spouse speaks first.
"You have blood on your hands" he says.
*****************************
Meanwhile she has her fingers on my arm so tight, the malevolent tree of my dream seems benign by comparison.
I let her pull me out the door, my key tight in my free hand. What can be the matter? MacBeth, Banquo, daggers dripping with blood, smack yourself awake Sue, don't be stupid.
The door of their room is propped open with a shoe. I step over it and push in.
Good God, there is indeed blood in the room. On the bathroom floor, and on the towel that a man is holding around his foot as he sits on the bed.
"Is okay" he says. "I cut my foot on glass." He nods with his head toward the bathroom, where the remnants of...something...a cosmetic mirror? are reflecting the bathroom light.
(Brain to Sue: Use me.)
I call the front desk from their room phone.
To my companions of two minutes I say, "Come with me". With my help the patient, one 'Guido' manages to tie the towel around his foot. His now much calmer lady and self provide support to get him down the narrow hall and into spouse's and my room. Guido sits on the toilet in our mercifully oversized, and glass-free bathroom, while I fetch the first aid kit that spouse, bless him, always packs. Then I wash my hands - out, out, damned spot. I am awake, but MacBeth is still with me.
I manage a good enough Girl Guide dressing that I think will hold up till Guido can see a doctor. I am standing up when I hear the room door open, watch as spouse materializes in the bathroom doorway.
I process the scene as spouse must see it. I am standing in our hotel room bathroom with two strangers and ...I look down, and realize that my blue jeans are not sitting around my waist where they should be but are in fact at the foot of the bed, where I kicked them off earlier before climbing in for my nap. Lucinda and Guido possess, it seems, either too little English or too much tact to have pointed out that their saviour has been ministering to them in a tee shirt and her underwear.
I open my mouth to attempt to explain but spouse speaks first.
"You have blood on your hands" he says.
*****************************
Jan 29th, 2015, 05:13 AM
#16
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
I am glad to be of service in providing entertainment. Excuse me, but before continuing I shall get dressed.
*********************
Day 7. Inverness to Crieff via Culloden Battlefield. Was Prince Charlie Bonnie or a Jerk?
Breakfast was a surprisingly pleasant affair, after the rather overly stimulating events of the evening before. We do not see our neighbours again. What will be said of my role in last night's event later somewhere in Italy, it is probably best I will never know.
Today we're picking up where we left off in the National Museum of Scotland, which gave us a reminder of how the Scotland and England monarchies came to unite under James I and VI, successor to Elizabeth I. THAT James was raised a Protestant, and gave us the King James version of the Bible. He had a son Charles I who winds up being beheaded by Cromwell et al. Cromwell is assisted by a group of Scottish Protestants called Covenanters, after Charles I refuses to recognize their cause. However the Covenanters are a grouchy, suspicious bunch, and while they back Cromwell in the English Civil War, they later fall out with him. He smites them in battle, but they continue as a resentful grouchy underground force.
Meanwhile Charles' son, imaginatively named Charles II, is eventually restored to the throne, but dies without issue. So the brother of Charles II, grandson of James I and VI, takes the throne as James II of England and VII of Scotland. Both Charles II and James continue to annoy the Covenanters, which does not seem to be a difficult task. I hope you're taking this in, it will be on the exam.
However, while married to Anne Hyde, James II and VII converts to Catholicism. He fathers two daughters, Mary and Anne, who are Protestant (how this came about, I've no idea.) After Anne Hyde dies, James remarries a Catholic. In a nation full of anti-Catholic hysteria, this is not a smart idea. Eventually his own daughters by Anne Hyde, Mary and Anne, essentially abandon their father and stepmother and support Mary's Dutch Protestant husband William for the throne, while James along with his second wife and their children, including Charles Edward Stuart who will become the father of Bonnie Prince Charlie (BPC), beat it for France.
While William and Mary are on the throne, Sophia, who is Electress of Hanover (I have no idea what an Electress is, please don't ask) and the mother of the future George I, gets designated the nearest Protestant relative of Mary and Anne, which makes her heir if those two die without issue. (That must have taken a team of civil servants to figure out, since 56 Catholics of the Stuart line get passed over to get Sophia and George lined up.) Next up: Mary dies, William dies, and Anne becomes Queen, which is when we FINALLY get to 1707 when the parliaments of England and Scotland merge, with the united states being known as "Great Britain."
Things do not go entirely smoothly under the largest free trade agreement in the world at that time. By the time Anne dies and George I makes his tortuous way onto the British throne (mom Sophia has meanwhile croaked as well), various sundry folk both English and Scot are itching to get the exiled Stuart branch back on the throne. They've already given it a shot in 1715 and failed. Now it's 1745, soon to be 1746, George I of Hanover (a region in what is now Germany) is on the British throne, and the Jacobites (think James instead of Jacob and you are on the right track) are giving it a second shot. They'll take their last stand on Culloden Moor in 1746.
*********************
Day 7. Inverness to Crieff via Culloden Battlefield. Was Prince Charlie Bonnie or a Jerk?
Breakfast was a surprisingly pleasant affair, after the rather overly stimulating events of the evening before. We do not see our neighbours again. What will be said of my role in last night's event later somewhere in Italy, it is probably best I will never know.
Today we're picking up where we left off in the National Museum of Scotland, which gave us a reminder of how the Scotland and England monarchies came to unite under James I and VI, successor to Elizabeth I. THAT James was raised a Protestant, and gave us the King James version of the Bible. He had a son Charles I who winds up being beheaded by Cromwell et al. Cromwell is assisted by a group of Scottish Protestants called Covenanters, after Charles I refuses to recognize their cause. However the Covenanters are a grouchy, suspicious bunch, and while they back Cromwell in the English Civil War, they later fall out with him. He smites them in battle, but they continue as a resentful grouchy underground force.
Meanwhile Charles' son, imaginatively named Charles II, is eventually restored to the throne, but dies without issue. So the brother of Charles II, grandson of James I and VI, takes the throne as James II of England and VII of Scotland. Both Charles II and James continue to annoy the Covenanters, which does not seem to be a difficult task. I hope you're taking this in, it will be on the exam.
However, while married to Anne Hyde, James II and VII converts to Catholicism. He fathers two daughters, Mary and Anne, who are Protestant (how this came about, I've no idea.) After Anne Hyde dies, James remarries a Catholic. In a nation full of anti-Catholic hysteria, this is not a smart idea. Eventually his own daughters by Anne Hyde, Mary and Anne, essentially abandon their father and stepmother and support Mary's Dutch Protestant husband William for the throne, while James along with his second wife and their children, including Charles Edward Stuart who will become the father of Bonnie Prince Charlie (BPC), beat it for France.
While William and Mary are on the throne, Sophia, who is Electress of Hanover (I have no idea what an Electress is, please don't ask) and the mother of the future George I, gets designated the nearest Protestant relative of Mary and Anne, which makes her heir if those two die without issue. (That must have taken a team of civil servants to figure out, since 56 Catholics of the Stuart line get passed over to get Sophia and George lined up.) Next up: Mary dies, William dies, and Anne becomes Queen, which is when we FINALLY get to 1707 when the parliaments of England and Scotland merge, with the united states being known as "Great Britain."
Things do not go entirely smoothly under the largest free trade agreement in the world at that time. By the time Anne dies and George I makes his tortuous way onto the British throne (mom Sophia has meanwhile croaked as well), various sundry folk both English and Scot are itching to get the exiled Stuart branch back on the throne. They've already given it a shot in 1715 and failed. Now it's 1745, soon to be 1746, George I of Hanover (a region in what is now Germany) is on the British throne, and the Jacobites (think James instead of Jacob and you are on the right track) are giving it a second shot. They'll take their last stand on Culloden Moor in 1746.
Jan 29th, 2015, 05:28 AM
#17
It is useful to remember that James 6/1 had a terrible childhood being almost killed a fair bunch of times including having to hide in the loo while his "loyal" followers tried to butcher him. Amazing that the guy ended up so level headed, well apart from the bi-sexuality, the bible and the tobacco. 
Jan 29th, 2015, 05:34 AM
#18
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
Day seven (continued)
Correction: Charles II did not die without issue, only without legitimate issue. (Any puns about the English parliament having issues with this and I'll send the punster to the dock.) Diana, Princess of Wales, was descended from two of his illegitimate sons. Therefore, when/if Prince William ascends the British throne, a descendant of Charles II House of Stuart is going to be on the throne of Britain. Perhaps if the Jacobites had foreseen that, they could have spared themselves all the trouble they went to in 1746. But I digress.
************
The supporters of BPC I cannot fathom. They include just about everybody who has a grievance, a sort of, those-who-have -a-beef-are-my-friends alliance. I am no historian, but I can think of alliances based on shared beefs/beeves but nothing else in common that were not, in the long term, terribly successful. So I wonder if this one would have fared any better, even if it had won the day at Culloden.
Also, I may have loved DK Broster's "The Flight of the Heron" as a girl, but Bonnie Prince Charlie is starting to strike me as having been not worth quite so much effort. He sounds, sorry if I get this wrong, like he was an inexperienced, grandiose young man, someone who still believed in divine right years after the English fought first a civil war and then a 'glorious revolution' to get rid of that nonsense.
Anyway, the museum here is new and very well done; one really gets an appreciation for Culloden's being just a chapter in a much greater conflict, a global war taking place between Britain and France at the time. France played BPC as a pawn, intending to use him to secure an invasion of England. This part failed, as we know, but the French succeeded only too well in setting in motion events that were to rip Scotland apart. For the Jacobite uprising was a civil war between Scots, as much as a Scots-English conflict.
The museum includes regular demonstrations of weaponry of the time given by curators in costume, plus a short but dramatic film of a re-enactment of the battle. If you're into Scots history, it's time well spent.
After sampling the surprisingly good museum cafe, and a quick stroll through the battlefield (we eschewed the tour) it was back on the road. It's finally clouding over but the rain still manages to hold off. We stop at Blair Atholl at an upscale food emporium for a coffee and to pick up a few provisions, and pull into our hotel parking lot in Crieff by late afternoon.
Our hotel is an annex to the more pricy Crieff Hydro, but we still have access to the pool. The rooms of the annex are simple but comfortable, and the in-house restaurant serves acceptable, if not notable fare. Tonight is quiet, no bloody escapades, thank you, thank you.
Correction: Charles II did not die without issue, only without legitimate issue. (Any puns about the English parliament having issues with this and I'll send the punster to the dock.) Diana, Princess of Wales, was descended from two of his illegitimate sons. Therefore, when/if Prince William ascends the British throne, a descendant of Charles II House of Stuart is going to be on the throne of Britain. Perhaps if the Jacobites had foreseen that, they could have spared themselves all the trouble they went to in 1746. But I digress.
************
The supporters of BPC I cannot fathom. They include just about everybody who has a grievance, a sort of, those-who-have -a-beef-are-my-friends alliance. I am no historian, but I can think of alliances based on shared beefs/beeves but nothing else in common that were not, in the long term, terribly successful. So I wonder if this one would have fared any better, even if it had won the day at Culloden.
Also, I may have loved DK Broster's "The Flight of the Heron" as a girl, but Bonnie Prince Charlie is starting to strike me as having been not worth quite so much effort. He sounds, sorry if I get this wrong, like he was an inexperienced, grandiose young man, someone who still believed in divine right years after the English fought first a civil war and then a 'glorious revolution' to get rid of that nonsense.
Anyway, the museum here is new and very well done; one really gets an appreciation for Culloden's being just a chapter in a much greater conflict, a global war taking place between Britain and France at the time. France played BPC as a pawn, intending to use him to secure an invasion of England. This part failed, as we know, but the French succeeded only too well in setting in motion events that were to rip Scotland apart. For the Jacobite uprising was a civil war between Scots, as much as a Scots-English conflict.
The museum includes regular demonstrations of weaponry of the time given by curators in costume, plus a short but dramatic film of a re-enactment of the battle. If you're into Scots history, it's time well spent.
After sampling the surprisingly good museum cafe, and a quick stroll through the battlefield (we eschewed the tour) it was back on the road. It's finally clouding over but the rain still manages to hold off. We stop at Blair Atholl at an upscale food emporium for a coffee and to pick up a few provisions, and pull into our hotel parking lot in Crieff by late afternoon.
Our hotel is an annex to the more pricy Crieff Hydro, but we still have access to the pool. The rooms of the annex are simple but comfortable, and the in-house restaurant serves acceptable, if not notable fare. Tonight is quiet, no bloody escapades, thank you, thank you.
Jan 29th, 2015, 05:37 AM
#19
Original Poster
Join Date: Feb 2003
Posts: 10,386
Likes: 0
Received 0 Likes
on
0 Posts
"It is useful to remember that James 6/1 had a terrible childhood being almost killed a fair bunch of times including having to hide in the loo while his "loyal" followers tried to butcher him. Amazing that the guy ended up so level headed, well apart from the bi-sexuality, the bible and the tobacco."
Bilbo I did not know this. Most interesting, but perhaps not really surprising, given the times.
I shall rely on you to edit my mini-history and correct where necesssary.
Bilbo I did not know this. Most interesting, but perhaps not really surprising, given the times.
I shall rely on you to edit my mini-history and correct where necesssary.
