Is This Goodbye...

I must confess, that this is not how I wanted to end my blog, and your sharing of our trip.
The last entry was when I was shell shocked – and to be honest, even now as I think of our lost camera, it feels like a whack to the guts with cricket bat. I think it is the pain of knowing that the memory stick contains things that have no relevance to the person who took it. The thought of it laying in the bottom of a bin somewhere, or being deleted is punishing, to say the least.
Our greatest sadness is for the kids. The video camera was the insurance, to compensate for the reality that the kids will remember very little of this in the years to come. Then there is the way that Sam became unofficial tour guide to a lot of our destinations…I think that Shane had already started mentally editing together a tape for Sam’s 21st. And please, in order not to set me off, yet again, let’s not mention the precious footage of our time with the Ormistons. The footage of the evening show/circus, where the kids prepared an order of acts, and even dragged the very obliging fence builder in, to be a participant and audience member.
I lay in bed at night and try to remember the places we have been, and my mind jumps to, "Oh no, I won't remember it", to, "We will just have to look at the photos" I feel the sickening thud, and then think, "No, it is gone" and then I try hard to make sense of it all, and it goes around and around, the solution to the lost memories, being to call on the things that we recorded...

AND NOW....TO MOVE ON
The above was written in Heathrow, yesterday afternoon, before the battery in the computer went flat.
Now we are in Hong Kong, after 12 hours on a plane. In reality, it felt much shorter, as we all slept (if that fretful state of shifting positions regularly can be called that) for about six hours. Throw in two meals and two movies - and the trip is done!!
I do wonder if the ready access to entertainment every minute of the journey, lessens our awareness of what we are going through. I remember my first trip home from overseas, aged 22. It was a reallllly long flight which seemed to last forever, and the deep sense of melancholy that I experienced is still tangible to me on reflection, all these years later. There was such a bittersweet poignancy to it all. I wonder if the reflection that air travel deserves, is now absent from our 'take it for granted' existence, where to travel from one side of the world to the other is just something to be endured, when in fact it is AMAZING. And surely if you are doing it...something major is happening in your life. Even if it is just a holiday - it is something to be treasured and marvelled at - and if you are traveling for some greater purpose - love or loss - how much greater the need for pause. We did not pause much. I think that perhaps that wasn't a bad thing.
Entertainment, in the root meaning of the word, means to switch off: to gaze dumbly. I think that over the last two days of our trip, bad and sad thoughts have been on a constant loop, and this, was leaving a sour flavour behind. To break the brain's pattern, was not a bad thing.
So. Three months and one week are done. All of that time spent planning, and then traveling, is done. It is hard to believe. And when looking homeward, there is a strange sense of emptiness, like, "What now?" I was starting to feel this brooding come on, on Friday morning beforethe loss of our camera (from now on, referred to as B.L.) Since the theft (A.L.) the sense of loss between Shane and myself has been so great, that I think we have a warped perspective - have forgotten the positives. The fact is...this has been a most excellent adventure.
I am proud of my family. The Fulwood Clan feel strong. I feel like we have mainly conquered, and where we have lost, we have done so with dignity, and solidarity. I don't know that we are any different to ever we were, or that we will be different from here on in....(Sam was just commenting to me an hour ago that he realized our family was different to other families. I was intrigued and excited to hear what it was that he felt, but it was something about him not being able to look in the mirror as much as he felt he should....or something like that, which he said he couldn't explain. Made me raise an eyebrow in confusion....)
I am extra glad now of this blog spot. It is the best record that we now have - and I thank you for reading it, because that has made it a much greater pleasure to keep.
I have learnt a few things along the way - but before sharing them, must make my record complete.

Friday night saw Shane drive through the streets of London. That was pretty amazing. To drive past the end of Tower Bridge and straight past Big Ben. We were both in a bit of a shocked state, but were still able to register where we were and what we were doing.
On Saturday we just kept close to Paul's. He suggested an outing - which normally would have been grand, but our spirits were sunk, and we just wanted to start packing and drive nowhere. We also used Saturday morning to make contact with the manager, and later the waitress, from the Running Horse Inn, where the theft occurred. We went walking to shops in the morning for a last gathering of supplies, and then out for tea with Paul, to a great little pub (The Salty Lime? -or was it something to do with anchors?) Then yesterday we had the great pleasure of one last visit with Katie and Jesse, this time with the added bonus of Ant's company as well. They were in town for a baby shower, and so we managed a last get together, and a Sunday Carvery. The meal was great but excruciatingly slow in coming - but that only made the meal last longer, and the company was good, so be it. We felt good being able to hand on Sam's car seat, as a spare for them (for Jesse) The other car seat and the grubby but wonderful two pound stroller were left in the car, to be picked up today (Monday) by the car people / insurance company. I feel like they were loyal to us, and we have been disloyal to them....
Poor Eliza complained a couple of times, on the long drives, that her bottom hurt. I just thought it little wonder, from being cooped up in a car seat for hours on end. Then, last week, in Wales, when I washed the cover, I discovered that there was more or less a hole in the seat bit. Just the right side for a bottom cheek to sag into. One side was smooth, and the other had a pit, with a screw head at the bottom. Obviously there was meant to be a cover over it...It is now wadded up with toilet paper and built up to make a smooth surface. I don't believe it is really reusable. Shame.
From my green seat by the terminal one playground, I have a magnificent view, straight out of HUGE windows, onto the tarmac, with its planes coming and going, and it's hazy back drop of highrise buildings and behind them, mountains. As I have been writing, lights have come on within the building and in its surrounds. Another day is fading. We pulled up at what would have been ten to nine in the morning in the UK, and then had to promptly wind my watch forward eight hours. Wow! That is one way to 'kill' time. Lilli has just pointed out that we haven't had any lunch, and that this is confusing her brain.
She is by far the most enthusiastic about our homeward direction.
On our first night in Innerleithen, I was laying in our room, having a quiet time with Eliza, a goodnight cuddle. Consequently, Sam, Nathan, and Lilli didn't know I was in earshot. I was privvy to their 'goodnights' to one another. (Sam and Lil sleeping in one room, and Nathan in with Cat and Stu.) It went something like:
All: Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.
Nathan: See you later
Lilli: Yeah. And just remember, we will come and get you
Sam: Yeah. Don't go down to the garden by yourself, we will go down together.

About now I chipped in with the command to go to bed and scrap any plans for midnight escapades.

Wish i had written it down at the time for accuracies sake - Cat - maybe you remember the exact lines uttered. That was it essentially though, and it gave us parents a chuckle.

Here are some of the things that I have learnt:

*You can break the mould. You don't have to swim with the current if it is leading you where you don't want to go.

*Pound Stretcher is no substitute for a bakery

*Every third town, has a Royal Oak Hotel in it

*Self flushing toilets like giving you a cool surprise (just ask lilli, who has had to refine her wiping techniques to avoid a bot wash every time...)

*Every third town, has a Cross Keys Hotel in it

*Wet wipes are the world's most adaptable, indispensable, universal cleaners - don't leave home without them

*Yorkshire Pudding goes with everything

*I can not do a Scottish accent to save myself

*Tescos sell everything, and are everywhere

*You are the same person at home, as you are on the road

*The best advice given to us before we left (thanks Sheryl) was to remember, that you have bad days at home - so if you have bad days whilst you are away...it is ok. It is normal and not the fault of the trip.

*We have less "bad days" when not beholden to the clock

*Our children delight us and bring us joy, more and more

*Our children still confound us and frustrate us, more than we could have believed

*Playgrounds are the world's only positive response to 'how should we make our children happy?'

*You can have too much of a good thing ( e.g. in theme parks - the longer we rode the Pirate ship, the less of a thrill it was...)

*People accumulate stuff. It seems to be in our programming. I would love to be de-programmed

*Ford Mondeos are pretty cool for non-descript, non-personality types of cars.

*Television is a sapper of all creativity and 'spare-time' (I already knew this, but plan to be more productive and creative from here on)

*I am extremely shaped by aesthetics. I love beautiful things, for the sake of beauty itself.

*If you really want to spend quality time with your kids, go somewhere where there is nought to do, and stay for a week. I am thinking a tent, in a little town, with the uno cards and space to ride bikes. No agenda of 'things to see', to make the trip 'worth while'.

*I may not be excited about resuming where we left off in our lives - but I am excited about reconnecting with all of our loved ones at home.....you are probably one of them....

Shane is snoring on the green seats, it's dark outside and I now have three kids sitting in front of me, all in time out. The lovely hour or so of play has come to a yelling end - so you see - real life calls - so I should go. And I guess I should say, 'Goodbye'. I don't really want to.
This is the final note to our travel. I think the hugs hello when we get to Adelaide will simply be the start of the next chapter....but I won't write about that online.
Thanks for being a part our adventure.
I would love you all to make a comment at the end of this blog. It would mean the world to me, to know who read along.
I guess this is Good-bye.

Good Bye.
For now.....

The car crash was nothing compared to this!

We have lost the video camera.
That is, we know where we left it, but when we returned to get it - it was gone.
We ate tea at a pub, on the way home from LEGO Land. We took the camera inside with us, because since the crash, the car is in no way secure. We left the pub and returned to last nights hotel to pick up our stored luggage (also because of the car incident). We hit the M4 and headed to London. I realized I had more foot room than usual, and we realized what was missing.
Did the u-bolt. Back to the pub...but no one had handed it in and the waitress had just knocked off...weird given the size and emptiness of the dining room we had been in.
Actually, weird is not the right word.
Gutting.
Devastating.
I can't believe it.
All of August onwards, video and photos. Gone.
How will the kids remember what they did and where they went?
How will we show you?
How did we let this happen?
Why do people steal?

Sam and Eliza both have temperatures again.

A Day We Wont Forget...No matter how hard we try....

Life is all about how you look at it.
Good stuff happens - and you need to be quick to recognise it and be readily grateful for it.
And Bad stuff happens. And you need to look around you and remember that things could be worse.
Last night Sam slept fretfully, and awoke with whimpering at about midnight complaining of a clanging head. He was feverish and in need of panadol, but then slept through the night, and seemed not so bad in the morning. Eliza, however, slept through the night, but awoke claiming that she had felt sick in the night, and that her head was thumping....
We went down to the breakfast room where her first mouthful of juice was pretty promptly returned. However, she then went on to eat and drink (and has done all day), leading us to believe that it was the headache and temp leading her to an upset tummy. As the day has worn on, we believe that the cold they have all contracted seems to be related to ear problems. A visit to the doctor is on our tentative programme for tomorrow.
THIS, however, is not why the day will live on in our memories forever. That dubious honour belongs to the Mondeo. Our faithful new acquaintance that seems like an old friend. Or silver work horse which was due to be looked at on Thursday night for a likely sale. Our blessing in disguise (so much more economical than if we had bought one of our other choices.)
So, this worthy car pulled up at a round-about, on a dual lane roadway. We all sat there, the kids nursing their various headaches (Eliza sleeping, head slumped), Shane contemplating changing lanes, and me....I am not sure...listening to the radio and zoning out for a minute....when, BANG! We were thrown forward, then back, then....bang! Forward and back again. It was all so quick, and in the second that it took, one had time to think, 'What the...car crash...are we going to be okay?...this is unbelievable timing - we need to sell this car...', by which time, it was over. I turned around to check the kids, and was met by Lilli (with eyes the size of saucers) asking, "Was that a car crash?". I established that 'yes' it was and that we were all okay.
The culprit was an elderly woman,who was seventy five if she was a day. She had a passenger who looked even older, and both seemed calm, and most thankfully unhurt. She quite calmly said to me, "I don't know how that happened." Her car was amazingly unscathed. The plastic over her number plate was crazed, and there was an odd mark on the front of her bonnet. We figure now, that the second bump was her car coming our from under our car.
And the Mondeo?
Well, that poor old thing has probably seen it's last day. Her boot will no longer shut, and the structure of the boot is severely changed, with the latch no longer able to align with the snib on the lid. The bumber is a mess of broken platic, through which the foam can be seen, and the sides are pushed out a little at the back.
A couple of policemen came along and followed us around the corner, where there was quite literally a B and Q, to make sure that no stuff fell from our boot. It didn't. The back of the car is now closed up with gaffa tape and an occy strap. IT makes me feel sad when I look at it. Poor car - it didn't deserve to end its days like that.
This is of course presuming that it won't be fixed. I can't believe that it would be possible to repair all of that damage for less than a grand, which is definitely more than it is worth.
There are of course many things to be grateful for. Firstly, and most importantly, NO ONE WAS HURT.
You can't really top that one.
And the timing - well, if it was going to happen then now is better than in the first week, or even halfway through. We don't have the dilemma of whether or not to buy a new car.
Our heads were a little sore from the headbanging. And our nerves greatly shaken. Emotions raw. But about two hours down the road we were able to talk about it, beat by beat. Important - especially for Lilli who was mightily freaked out.
Now we just wait to hear back from our insurance agent tomorrow, to find out what the next step is.
So there you go.
A day we wont forget,...and a few days to come which are now highly uncertain. A disappointed buyer out there, and possibly the missing out of a a visit to Shakespeare's town, in order to visit garages. So be it. We are all here, and we are all okay. The trip has been excellent to say the very least and if this is the only thing that goes wrong - we count ourselves very blessed indeed.

Plus there is Sam's ultimate happiness still to come. Legoland.

Tonight we are holed up in a B and B in Oxford, where one feels that the price is as painful as today's crash, for the car business will eventually be sorted out, but this is money that will just be gone. Forever and unavoidable. (our change of plans meant a change of accommodation venues as well, and at five thirty at night, in the middle of a city where the cheap hotels are booked out and you only have about six numbers to call, and a three year old who is in real pain, you take what you can get)
I will end on the surprisingly pleasant note, that the weather today was beautiful, and tomorrow is supposed to be even better. Maybe 21degrees, which is probably about what it will be at home as well. We should be acclimatised on our arrival!
Goodbye for now, from those who are shaken, but not stirred.

Scraping the tip of the iceberg...or slate heap

I feel as if we are just starting to get a glimpse of what this place is, and who these people are, just as we are ready to make our way out of the country. Cymru is Welsh for Wales, by the way, and indeed, it is another country entirely. I can not believe that it has taken me this long to come here, nor that we nearly skipped it. The scenery we have seen in the last twenty four hours is fit to rival any that we have seen elsewhere, and the villages really gorgeous. We visited a Slate Museum yesterday, and took a big step closer to seeing who these folk are. Good is one word that simplistically (and romantically) comes to mind. Hard working, honorable folk, with fervent faith and community spirits. Of course, that is quoting (ad hoc) from the captions under black and white photographs of quarriers, some eighty or so years ago. I can not comment on the feel of the people now, as I have not met enough, and will not get to now.
Today we left our lovely hosts and cosy van - situated, I should ad, near the town with the longest name in the world. I can not even attempt to spell, write or say it, but I can tell you that it starts with Ll, and goes on for at least the length of the Alphabet! We videoed our Welsh slate-splitting demonstrator saying it yesterday, so you will have to watch the video if you ever want to hear it. We have driven for quite some hours, heading through Bewtsy - Coed, to the coast, and then down to the Brecon Beacons. We stopped at a Gold mine for a wander, and tour, at about three, and then got here (a castle) at about tea time. We did a tour of the Victorian mines, and panned for gold, but really didn't have enough time before they were shutting the place. Fascinating to learn, was that the site was actually a Roman Gold Mine to begin with...
We were going to go for a walk when we finished our two minute noodles, but it was getting too dark...at seven thirty at night!! Do you remember that when we arrived, said it was not dark until about ten PM? Shows how long we have been here. Scenery is also starting to change, as a patchworky colour is creeping into the trees that we see on the hillsides....Autumn starting to create her glorious colours. Wish we could be here to see them...
Off to Shakespeare country tomorrow, for two nights only, then windsor, then two nights at Paul's, then ....
Someone has rung about the car who is really keen, so we are trying to get him see it on Thursday night, so that if he decides not to take it, we still have two days to organize other viewings.
The car is a wardrobe on wheels. stuff is under the seats and in the corners of the boot. I am having kittens at the thought of getting it all to the airport, so am really hoping that our keen possibility takes it, as he will do an airport pick up, enabling us to get our luggage to the airport without lugging it through the tube.
Can't believe that it is nearly all over.
Anyway, as they say in Wales, Lainswerrcheff lewwneasllchwen

The Welsh Highland Railway

It is a big call to make, but we believe we have discovered the most picturesque of all the places we have visited. Beddgelert. There was a gentle rainfall for the majority of the time that we were in the town, and yet its appeal was still glaringly obvious. Had the sun been shining, I can’t imagine how head-over-heels we would have been about the place.
It is a village, nestled on the side of a mountain, which is part of the Snowdonia National Park. We left from the station in Caernarfon, and wound our way around the foothills of Mount Snowdon at some stage, but as there were no bill-boards on the side of the hill, pointing up and reading, “Mount Snowdon”, I am not sure exactly what that specific landmark looked like. I expect that it was pretty much like all of the rest of the hills that were around us. There were parts of the journey that reminded me strongly of the West Highlands of Scotland, and more specifically, the Isle of Skye. Visibility was pretty poor, as there was low cloud on the way there, and fairly constant rain on the way home.
Rather than simply sit for two and a half hours one way, get off, stretch our legs and take the return trip, we opted to get off at about the three-quarter mark, and stroll around a village for an hour and a bit. That is how we discovered Beddgelert. We even got to stay there longer than anticipated, when we reboarded the train at the station for the return journey (glad to be out of the steadily worsening rain), only to learn that the station’s water tank was empty – meaning that the steam train could not fill up – meaning that we couldn’t leave. We waited for an hour and a half in our carriage (too comfortable to be bothered stretching our legs once again) whilst the engine was given enough water to get to the next station, fill up, and return to us. We got back to Caernarfon much later than anticipated, but it really didn’t matter.
Over dinner, Lilli began to fade a little, and was happy to get to her bed. She has a head ache today . I guess it is her take on whatever the other two are getting over. Hence another quiet sort of day. The bonus of this, is that I am writing my blog in DAYLIGHT hours, late morning instead of late evening, and that is a treat. Adding to the cosiness is the fact that the rain that set in yesterday arvo has not let up, so the lure of going out is weak at best. We do plan to head to an electricity museum after lunch. We should be able to manage that much!
Wales has been a bit of a mystery to us. When one thinks of Scotland, there are a myriad of images that come to mind and we would all of heard of the Scots from childhood, in jokes, stories or songs. Then there are the Irish, and same again, there is plenty of imagery on the internal files to draw from. The same goes for the English – perhaps our most formed notions of them are gathered from “Fawlty Towers” , ‘Doctor Who” and “Danger Mouse”, but they are images, regardless. But then mention Wales… and what do you get? Perhaps if you strain your brain you think of mines and choirs… but as to personality, character, national identity…nada. Sorry. Could be just me. But nothing.
Are there no stories that I can recall. The only jokes I know of are Brits, paying out the Welsh accent…and that is it. Pardon my ignorance.
It is this ignorance, however, that fuelled my determination to get over here. With time so short, it was tempting to keep going down the Eastern side of England (we never made it to the eastern most tip – sob), but I really didn’t want to have visited every other part of the UK, and miss this. Driving over the border, I felt like we had entered the territory of a tucked away sibling. You know the ones, common in centuries gone by, when a child was deemed ‘an idiot’ and sent away never to be spoken of again, as if it really didn’t exist. Why is Wales never mentioned – what signs of idiocy has it shown, so great, that it is ‘a secret’. Is it quite simply that it IS tucked away? To the edge where the thoroughfare need not travel? Perhaps it is the language thing? A lot of people speak Welsh, not English, particularly up north here. But doesn’t that make a place more interesting than not? It is like entering a truly different country – more so than Scotland or Northern or Southern Ireland. Perhaps, because they have their own language, their separate identity is also stronger, and they really stay somehow removed from the rest of the UK.
I can’t answer these questions, I am only glad to have the chance to visit this pretty part of the land. I only wish that we had as much motivation and drive as we did two months ago, to really explore as much as possible. At best, this end of trip, unwell pace, will allow us just a glimpse of all that is on offer here.
B.T.W. have published our car ad on Gumtree, Uk. If you look it up you can see our great little Mondeo, and a couple of shots of Lilli as well….

Cymru

Up until breakfast, and even during it, we didn’t know whether we were going to rent our room for another night, or whether we were going to hit the road. Shane phoned a static van in Wales, who were able to accommodate us, and we decided we were off. Not without one last wonder through the winding lanes and road width malls of York. Definitely a shopper’s paradise.
We got to our van at around five thirty at night. The welcome we received was hearty – like that of old friends. My only disappointment was that the good folk are Manchurians. Nothing wrong with that of course, but it does mean that we can’t listen extendedly to a Welsh accent, nor find out how Anwen is pronounced. (Lilli’s middle name, which we chose from a book, never having actually heard it pronounced – it is Welsh).
From our van (called a Static van, as it is without wheels…it is much more like what would call a small transportable…and is very comfortable indeed) we can see Mount Snowdon. This is the highest mountain in Wales and the name root for Snowdonia National Park.
Today has been a slow day in every respect. Sam has been off for a few days, and last night had quite a temperature. I say quite, as I am without a thermometer, and can only say that it is definitely high, but doesn’t seem deadly. Comforting, eh? Eliza has been a bit of a frustration today and has fallen to pieces regularly…and yes…this was symptomatic of her coming down with something as well, and sure enough, tonight, at tea, when I was hot enough to want to swoon and she was all rugged up and complaining of the cold – I realized that she too, now has a temperature. It is just as well that we are here for four nights in a row, as it seems plenty of rest will be needed for those amongst us.
We did manage to get to the Caernarfon Tourist info centre, and walk around that town. (the town itself is famous for its castle, and walled areas in the city) We did get the car washed, photographed, and the ad nearly up online. (makes the end feel very real when we are getting down to business end things like that).
Tomorrow, all being able to move, we will probably catch a steam train up Snowdon Mountain, or at least around it, on a scenic journey. There is also a slate quarry in the area which is apparently really interesting, plus a spattering of old houses and castles to visit.
Guess you will know as we go…

The Flying Scotsman in York

I find that my thoughts are more and more turning homeward. And I wonder. Is it simply because we are in the last week and a half of our trip, therefore very close now? Or is it because, after almost three months away (it will be three months on Saturday) one has simply 'had enough'? Both yesterday and today there was a total slump in my energy (early afternoon, surprise, surprise) - but really, really hard to work through. It took me back to the beginning of our trip when I reflected philosophically about how you keep your chin up when the kids are flaking it, and muster 'adult' behavior to 'keep them going'. Well today, Lilli was feeling sorry for me and saying that I should just come back to the room and curl up in bed (yes, she was reading my mind - but no, I wish I weren't so obvious and pathetic). Ha. We are supposed to move on tomorrow, but I am wondering if another day here might be a good idea. Visit a laundry mat as our planned outing for the day. Walk through the streets and be able to poke our noses into the shops as we go. Stroll by the park over the road, which we haven't even set foot into. Do some schooling. (something that has been much less regular than my original plans had it at. I suspect that the week and a half at home before school returns will be hard on the kids as I sit them at the table and do some catch ups.) Don't panic grandparents...your grandkids will graduate from primary school yet!!
Yesterday we visited what is possibly York's second most famous attraction, the Railway Museum. It was a rainy morning so we went for the treat of the road train, which transports you from York Minster to the museum (for a fee, of course). The Museum itself if free, and is an amazing example of what sort of learning can take place in this world for free. There is one big shed full of engines and display engines - like the rail trains where the mail was sorted enroute. The Hogwarts Express engine was here, and dozens of others, a contingent of which, were parked around the remaining turntable in the shed (there used to be three). You can imagine how cool this looked, all parked in, their noses facing one another around a massive circle - and all under cover. This shed also led to the Flying Scotsman museum, where they are in the process of restoring the original to working order. A very costly process, but supported by all, as the Flying Scotsman is one of Britain's best loved trains.
My favourite shed was on the other side of the museum, where, once again, a myriad of different trains were 'stationed' alongside of platforms. These were representative of lots of different eras and some you could sit in. Amongst the collection was their oldest train, Queen Victoria's Carriages. I think I am a bit of a Victoria fan. I certainly like her taste in colours. Everything was lined with cushioned blue. Probably it was a royal blue? There is no illumination in those carriages, as the textiles are all very fragile, and the carriages themselves are treated with chemicals and air testers to maintain for as long as possible the interiors. Actually, there was a carriage there of the Dowager Queen Adelaide's, which was in fact older than Queen Victoria's, however, it was only on loan, so I guess didn't count. Also interesting.
I wish I was more into trains, so that I could have enjoyed myself still after the two hour mark, but in truth, as I mentioned at the start, my legs didn't want to move me anymore, and my brain stopped caring, my eyes just wandered vaguely over stuff with minimal absorption. I can recommend it wholeheartedly, never-the-less, as a brilliantly set up place.
Today we visited the Castle Museum. So cool. I am such a sucker for loving anything to do with 'how people lived' and so this was the place for me. They had rooms set up, stuffed full of reality. Fenced off, granted, but that makes perfect sense. There was a Victorian Period Room, a Georgian Room, a couple of 17th Century ones. These led into the displays of recent history. For example, how rooms used to be cleaned, how toilets were used, laundry done (they used to wee in the water, as a cheap and readily available bleach), midwifery practices, wedding attire and funeral arrangements. This section then led to a 'street'. Cobble stones, flanked with Victorian style shop windows, and the odd horse and cart on the road. It was all in real size, and went in lighting effects, from day to night and back again, so that you could see the street in both lights. In the night time there would be 'candle' light, flickering from behind the lace curtains, above the shop windows. Said windows, displayed all manner of objects from a hundred to two hundred years ago, and covered the gammet of life from the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker.... To be honest.....I don't remember a butcher shop or bakery - but there must have been at least the latter - and as for candles, there were no sticks, but lots of candles hanging in bunches from the ceiling of the candle shop. There were clothes, shoes, toys and sweets.
The second half of that museum was not so exciting for me. More modern times, up to the sixties. One thing that was funny, was watching the way that people from throughout the sixties display, all flocked toward the telly in the corner when the Doctor Who music came on. We all stood and watched - I told the kids how Uncle Michael used to love this show, in a terrified kind of way, and would watch it from behind the couch- as soon as the two minute snippet was up and some other iconic thing was on screen, everyone left. Just like that. Kudos to you, Dr.Who.
The kids were in their beds before seven thirty tonight. The second time that we have managed that since leaving home, if my scrambled mind serves me correctly.
In the morning it is a full English breakfast for me. It is my most pleasing thought, as I drift off each evening.... hope you have a good brekky...

Sleeping (or not) on a boat.

So I finished writing last night's blog draft and tried to sleep. I lay there, with the voice in my head repeating, "Don't think of the Titanic; Don't think of the Titanic; Don't think of the Titanic" and so on. It was amazing how loud the noise of something hitting the hull was....I mean, it was probably just the waves but it sounded suspiciously like ice bergs....then there was the slight motion which didn't shift the outside of your body, but definitely produced a shift in your inards, changing your centre of gravity. I could feel my stomach leaning towards the hand rail on my top bunk, with the pressure growing and growing, and then easing and easing until it began to try pulling me towards the wall. I assured myself that it was obviously normal - it is just that it is hard to simply let go and trust hat all is well. Thought I did really well actually, and sleep came remarkable easily - until Eliza requested my help at 4am to get back into her sleeping bag (she was curled up in a port-a-cot). After that, I was back to being alarmed by the noises again, which seemed louder than before, then my phone rang at about four thirty am with an anonymous caller who said, 'Hello, hello, hello'. Then I lay there silently, waiting for the 4.45 wake up call, which didn't come until about 5.15! A hastily consumed (and unapetising) breakfast was consumed, and we were on our way.
The kids fell asleep in the car as we drove to York and I too suffered from my regular affliction of automatically shutting eyelids. This is a truly frustrating trait which has worsened as we go. At first I was far to consumed with absorbing all I could see - and wouldn't contemplate sleeping in the car. Then, I would try to consciously have a ten to fifteen minute nap while we drove, to get the tiredness out of the way. Then, as we left Scotland, it took on a whole new level of uncontrollability. It wasn't that I would try to stay awake, so much as I was constantly surprised at finding my eyes shut. I would quite literally realize that my eyes were shut and all was dark, and then would sit up and wonder what I had missed. It was very annoying as it was our last drive through Scotland and I didn't want to sleep through it - but try as I might, the emotional price I had to pay was an inability to stay conscious.
Sometimes when I know that I am falling asleep and don't want Shane to know that his dozy wife is drifting off again, I have learnt to continue the fall of my head into a motion that makes it look like it was intentional. For example, if it falls back towards the head rest, I pull my shoulders up and back, as if I was taking a good stretch....if it falls forward, I lift my hands at the same time, as if I just wanted to look at them - checking that I still had them or some such. He probably knows full well that I am only half conscious...probably can't tell the difference from normal....
We were in York, parked and on our way to the tourist info centre by 9.45 am. We booked a B and B and checked in. We also visited our first antique shop, which Ruth had told Sam we would find plenty of - of which he was most excited, but quickly discouraged as he professed to never be able to afford anything within it. He was right.
After lunch we walked in and through the town, to York Minster. This is one of the finest examples in Europe of a cathedral of its age. It is brilliant. It was built over a period of a few hundred years and our guide led us through the church in order of its building. When Cromwell's army marched through the land wrecking things and stripping churches of their wealth, the commander of this areas' army refused to hurt the Minster, as it was the church where he grew up. That is why it is such a fine example of intact history. There are little chapels throughout the Minster, before Henry the Eighth's time there would have been up to fifty of them, but Henry took a huge number of them down when he was busy stripping churches of all their wealth to boost his own purse. It is always so good having a tour whenever you can - you learn so many things you would have otherwise been ignorant of. Like - that the first man ever named as an 'artist' in England, was the man who did the East window in the Minster. It is the size of a doubles tennis court and has been there for SIX HUNDRED years. AMAZING. Also amazing is John Thornton who designed and made the whole thing, in its entirety, in three years. It tells in pictures, the story of creation, from the beginning of time, to the images of Revelation. His stained glass has lasted better than any else in the world and is currently being restored in a massive operation, using new techniques with longevity promised. It inspired me and reminded me of the importance of art in our lives. Go Ness, go Sunshine, the church needs you. The world needs you.
We walked the streets a while longer, had a coffee in a Starbucks as a treat....it felt like a necessity after my sleep deprived night and oddly timed meals. We met a street sleeper named Frankie, who refused the kids offer of a banana and apple, but was grateful of a pound. He explained how he needed the brandy or something similar that he was drinking in his coke, to ward off the shakes if it rains. Easy to believe really. Sam was kind of transfixed and had to be pushed to get him moving when we said goodbye.
Speaking of transfixed - before we had begun our tour of York Minster, and were wondering around under the cathedral high ceilings, a voice came over the PA. It was a deep, resonant voice, that broke the silence, and startled us all a little. Lilli's eyes flew wide, and she froze as she listened. The voice went on in its deep, soothing manner, and gradually, people everywhere stopped to listen to what it was saying. It quoted something familiar about coming to the Lord in the holy communion...and then all was silent again. People started moving off, in various directions, and for a second longer, Lilli stood watching us all. She then approached us, put her hand to her chest and said with a nervous laugh, " I really thought that was God.... talking to me."
We laughed. Quietly. She did have quite a spiritual moment a little later, however, when each of the kids were given twenty pence, to buy and light a candle, at the little chapel of Saint Nicholas. They each chose someone to dedicate the candle to, and to pray for. She was really buzzing at the end of her prayer time. I think it says a lot about God that you can be in the middle of a swarm of tourists, and still so readily enter His presence.
Whilst on God stuff....I am reminded of something that Sam did, in China. A waitress was taking our orders, when Sam looked up at her, and said, without pomp, "Do you know Jesus?" What the??? Where did that come from? I believe we drew in a sharp breath and didn't let it out. In seconds I had run the gauntlet of thoughts from, 'wow, he is a real evangelist', to 'I don't think confronting people and forcing them to respond to something so personal, is a really effective way of letting people know how loved they are"...Sam held his eyes steadily on her, and it quickly became evident that she didn't understand English well enough to know what he was asking. When she turned her attention to him again, he dropped his eyes for a second, then looked back at her and ordered a lemonade. It was an interesting moment, and I don't believe that we have seen or heard the last from Sam, and his desire to tell people about our good God.
I must conclude, sadly, by switching from the eternal to the earthly. I must share that I found the best bargain shop ever. We were walking through the Shambles, one of the oldest parts of York and chock-a-clock with shops (on one street we quite honestly walk past houses that have been standing -lived in - since the 1400s). I had found a voucher for 15 percent off at "The World of Beatrix Potter" shop. In the Lakes District, this store had often stocked Flower Fairy products, and with Eliza's birthday so soon after our arrival home, I wanted to poke my nose in. All was fairly standard within, excepting a staircase which led to 'bargains and specials'. Oh man. They were not wrong. I have NEVER seen so many flower fairy products, let alone at such mental prices. I was in there an inordinate amount of time, and whilst I feel ashamed of spending precious tourist time shopping, and of getting a kick out of consumerism, I had to share it because quite frankly - it was a buzz! Eliza's birthday can come whenever it wants - we are ready for it!!

So Much To Write, So Little Time

I write this on a ferry, as it pulls out of the Port of Belfast, on its way to Liverpool. The exciting thing is that it is ten twenty pm - and we are sleeping in a cabin, on board. Unfortunately, this involved dinner being at about eight thirty at night…and now it is nearly ten thirty (and I am pretty sure we are all still awake – but a few of us are very near to laa laa land) – but we will be awakened at a quarter to five….yes, a quarter to FIVE, to come down and breakfast, and prepare to disembark. Today all of our meals have been late – I’ve a good idea that tomorrow they will all be on the early side. (am also determined not to think of a certain other ship that sailed from this port nearly 100 years ago….)
On the blog side of things, I feel terribly behind. Days glide by, and in the evenings, Shane is often on the computer looking for our next lot of accommodation (or booking ferries). Add to that that this week has seen us getting home late some nights, and there really hasn’t been much time to write. So, apologies on the silence, and on the brief understatement to follow. What we have seen deserves more – but this must do.
Thursday we drove up to Cushendall, to follow the coastal route up and over the top of Northern Ireland, aiming to finish in Portrush. Once we hit Cushendun, we realized that one of the tyres was making a funny ‘woomp, woomp,’. It was a boofy nail sticking out of the passenger rear wheel. The good news was that we were not losing pressure, so didn’t have to put the spare on – just set out for the nearest tyre garage. This was not as easy as it seemed. One town had two places but neither were able to do us until two…which would have been fine, if waiting around were an option, but it wasn’t. By then we were dead close to Carrick-a-rede, where we were planning to cross the rope bridge, so we went ahead and took our chances, and did that while we were there. (the bridge looks heaps scarier in photos than in real life…which I guess is good, because we will look more impressive as well.)
After that , the tyre was still up, and we progressed on our way west. Town after town was without garage, and then we were up to Giant’s Causeway…..but the voice of my father urged me on….we drove straight by it as the tyre was really urgent. We had ascertained that the Causeway remained open until dusk, whereas garages would not. We eventually had to go right through Portrush, and Portstewart, to Coleraine, where we found four otherwise unemployed tyre fitters, ready to do the job. Poor sods. We had been told by the tourist info lady that it would cost around thirty quid to get it fixed, so when the guy offered us a hot drink from the coffee machine – we all had a hot chocolate. The job was done before our drinks were even cool enough to sip – and it only cost us seven Pound!! Oops. I think we drank nearly half that cost. Hope they weren’t on the brink of bankruptcy, or we could be the straw that broke the camels' back.
We made it to Giant's Causeway which is quite simply an amazing spot(and from where we gazed fondly across the ocean to Scotland) There is a build up of hexagonal shaped pile-ons, like an uneven road, jutting out to sea BUT it is a natural phenomenon. They are about the size (on top) of a stepping stone that you may put in your garden, and they vary in height. Please look up a photo of it on this marvelous web if you don’t know what I am talking about.
We ate tea in Portrush and then drove the hour and a half home. Late night. We had planned to catch the train to Dublin on Friday but for various reasons changed our minds late Thurs night. Drove to Donegal Town instead, via Fivemiletown for a playground, Enniskillen for a picnic lunch on the loch (where we were harangued by a hissy swan and Eliza had her lunch snatched by a cheeky duck), and Belleek, where we toured the very famous pottery factory. Well, okay, I admit that I hadn’t heard of Belleek until that morning – but it is indeed famous, and very interesting touring the factory. As soon as we left Belleek, we were into Southern Ireland (the Republic). Funny how Southern Ireland, actually goes higher than Northern Ireland, but Donegal, where we were, is on the Western Side of the isle. Tea was in an Irish pub (duh!) and I had fish and chips…just so that next time I am in an Irish pub in Oz, I can look at the menu and know that I had Donegal Catch, in Donegal. We strolled around the Diamond (the old market which the town is built around) and again, headed home to a late night for the kids.
Saturday we visited Cooktown (mainly because we had to drive through it and there were market stalls everywhere) and went to Springhill House and then the Wellbrook Beetling mill. The house was a great glimpse back in time with lovely gardens – just park like mainly. (Some boys rescued two kittens who were struggling to get out of the pond whilst we were there. The kids wanted to keep them of course! I wondered if there was a groundsman somewhere cursing his inability to tie a good knot – did not mention this possibility to the kids as the horror of such an idea would be , er, horrifying, to them) The Beetling mill was a new and therefore refreshingly interesting visit. We saw the whole process, of how flax is taken and used from the stalks in the fields, to the linen on your table. Love watching the kids learn all of this stuff…-love learning it myself.
Today we went to church in Armagh…were nearly late as we left Dungannon and headed off in a north westerly direction to Omagh, instead of the south easterly direction of Armagh. Got ourselves sorted, and walked in not too discreditably late. We were going there to hear our friends brother (host’s son) Mark, preach. Felt really under-dressed in our jeans and sneakers – there were women wearing really lovely hats. I think that is cool. There should be much more hat wearing….
Had cups of tea together afterwards, just around the corner with Mark, his kids and Ruth. Was a really nice way to wrap up our time with them all. We look forward to seeing them in Australia next time they come to visit. We certainly have been made to feel so welcome.
Our last treat for Northern Ireland was to meet Charlie B and his lovely Roz and Rebecca at the Ulster Museum, in Belfast. It was four by the time we found the place, so we had a very quick wander through then went back to the Baxter’s for an amazing afternoon tea (by which time it was really tea time proper – but we had tea waiting on the boat, and they assured us that they had had a late lunch, so we were all prepared to hoe into a spread of three different sorts of scone, choccy cake, biscuits, pikelets and crisps. Urgh. I feel disgusted with myself and well satisfied all at once!!)
I have still to tell a couple of tales from Scotland and of famous kiddy antics – but the days are so rushed now, as we begin to count down our trip….only fourteen days left….

Maybe it is too early to write this. We are on the ferry to Northern Island, having left Scotland this morning.
The ferry is pretty swish, I may add. There is a game arcade, a soft play area, at least four coffee shops, a gift shop and free cinema areas, along with a multitude of seating arrangements. We are surrounded by cuttings, as we sort through our pamphlets, brochures and tickets, trying to get our various scrap books up to speed. I estimate that a good portion of the weight that we carry is in paper.
So. Scotland. Thud. The cause of the squeezing feeling on my heart. Country or people? I don’t know….but it sure has been a lump-in-my-throat kind of 24 hours. To say good-bye to Cat and Stu this morning, to wave Nathan off to school, and have one last hold of Lady Laila…ouch! It hurts. I have no doubt that someday we will all meet again – it is just a sad fact that there will be many years in the interim, and little Laila will no longer be little, and it is highly improbable that the boys will dress up as firemen and pirates and run around together laughing merrily. Still, thanks to the merits of Skype, we need not miss out on the growing up milestones, and certainly the kids will get a lot more out of our chats from now on.
I have to keep weighing up the call of Scotland with the realities of life. If we were to live in that beautiful place, and dwell amongst the wonderful friends we have there, we would need to forfeit time in our own beautiful land, and relationship time with our own families and friends back home. I need to keep reminding myself of this so that the sense of grief doesn’t become too mighty! That and the fact that the alternative to a sense of loss would be to not have these relationships in the first place…and what is a little hurt, compared to the warmth that these people bring into our lives. I wouldn’t want to save us from the pain by avoiding the joy. So I must suck it up. Deep breath. Blink back the bloomin’ moisture in my eyes.
Time went so swiftly that we only managed one visit with most of the people and places we wanted to see. Again, we are in trade off mode: I would have dearly loved the time to wander the town and know the lay of the land. To have become a part of the rhythm of life in Innerleithen, for the kids to feel like locals, however, had we done that, we would not be about to enter Ireland. Maybe some other day.
We are about to pull into port. To wind up, I can say that we had one more trip into Edinburgh together, (on Monday) where we visited Greyfriars Kirk, grave yard and Greyfriar’s Bobby’s grave. What an inspirational dog. A lesson in loyalty that goes above and beyond. Within the Kirk we were given a brief history lesson by a most informative highlander – full of fact and colour – (and wearing the black watch tartan, the same as Sam’s kilt, much to the latter’s delight) This we followed up by a tour of the Museum of Childhood. Such a great attraction, especially given the free admission.
Shane took the kids home and Cat and I did some serious kiddy gift shopping. Such fun – only too rushed and too impossible to repeat.

We are now in Castle Caufield, Dungannon, where the welcome has been tremendous, and the familiarity feels comforting. (I stayed here once, twelve years ago...so I am guessing the warmth comes very much from the home maker, and not from my familiarity.) I can't seem to go too long without choking up or welling up - so I think an early night and busy day tomorrow, are necessities.
I look forward to telling you all about Giant's Causeway and any other wonders we encounter along the way.

Perhaps the shine is wearing off...

There is a wondering for you. When wandering around Edinburgh Castle and feeling little motivation, is it because you are just having a bad day, or is it because 'the shine is wearing off'? Granted, Edinburgh Castle is a lot more of the same, in a very general sense, to what we saw at Stirling only the day before (including the two 'Cromwellians' teaching us about arms). I commented to Shane that I was conflicted in my efforts, for it seems that the second I walk away from a plaque that I have just read, I forget all that I just attempted to absorb, on the other hand, from time to time you read something which is just 'POW' and you know that you will retain that very interesting new fact. (Devoid of exact dates, perhaps, but there in some form or other).
Whether it is that there have been enough castles and fortifications this month, or whether I was just in a funk is irrelevant for now, and either way, a visit with an old pal changed the tone of the day dramatically. As cheery and wonderful as ever, the lovely Dean was instantly endeared to the kids, and three hours flew by all too rapidly. We had time together in the park, and shared a meal at the pub, before catching the bus back to the Straiton Park and ride.
The day prior to Edinburgh(on Wednesday), we visited the Melrose Abbey. A beautiful setting. Scenic space, with the stone ruins in various stages of recognisbility, from walls with rooves intact still, to stones in the grass - and an audio guide to help you discern what was what.
Friday saw us run around the district a little, driving through Traquair, to St Mary's Loch for our lunch, on to Selkirk to visit the Baxter's outlet, and then home through Galashiels to get the shopping. Our aim was to get back to Innerleithen in time to pick Nathan up from school. More than anything, the kids want to just play together. The back yard is all they need to fulfill their ambitions and adventures. They therefore were most pleased with yesterday's arrangement, which involved me helping out Cat at the church fete, selling her soaps, and the kids spending that time hanging out here at the house together - Shane at the reins. Stu was at work, so Shane had all five to watch, but as usual took it in his stride. For which we were grateful. He helped the kids put the tent up on the back lawn, and they all slept in there. We were surprised that they did actually fall asleep by about ten thirty - and then disappointed when they were all awake by three thirty!! They were all brought inside when it became apparent that they weren't going to go back to sleep without chatting for a while - and as we had a big day planned, we wanted them to get some rest at least....
All of us slept a bit over the usual seven am, Shane was allowed the longest, given that it was Father's Day back home. We eventually got him up so that we could consume the banana pancakes that we had semi prepared the night before...so that we could head off to Vogari Park. There is a big old lovely house, set in a park, with a couple of fantastic playgrounds scattered throughout. Poor wee Nathan, had just finished his first two weeks of school, and that, mixed with a full day of play yesterday, and topped with a night with hours missing fom the sleep quota, were all too much.
To be at his favourite park and not have the energy left to play was most disappointing, and we headed straight home from the park (skipping one of the places we had planned on visiting) in order to give the kids an earlier night, complete with baths and vege soup. All good, and hopefully all well tomorrow.
In the morning we are heading back into Edinburgh for a visit to Greyfriars Bobby's monument and the kirkyard. Cat and I will stay in and do a lap up Princess Street.
We plan to head to Northern Ireland on Wednesday. Between now and then, there is just another visit to Peebles to fit in, when I plan to take a wander up the Tweed and past the Neidpath, and then it is time to see if we can magically condense all of our bits and bobs into the four suitcases, ready to hit the road for our last burst of touring. Only 21 days left until we head home...

Oban and Stirling

The weather has been glorious. Everything seems beautiful. I would probably find the tarmac to be unique and the garbage cans clever were I to pay them any attention, in weather as beautiful as this. People always groan about the weather here, but I am deceived into loving the place because of days like today and yesterday, (and fingers crossed, tomorrow and the day after as well).
Eileen Donan Castle has occupied its spot on the hill for more time than is fully known (ie, it has prehistoric stones left on the site, and then a couple of layers for the current buildings. Though in great ruin and disrepair, it was bought by a Mr.McRae _______ and his family in 1913 and for the following 20 years or so, built up and repaired. It is now a headquarters to the McRae Clan. It's location is spectacular, surrounded by waters that are tidal - sometimes accessible by land, and at other times, only accessible by the bridge leading to it.
Today we visited Stirling Castle, and again the sun shone. Bright and warm. I even managed to get down to just my t-shirt! It made the green lawns look even brighter, and the trees offering shade seemed to actually serve a purpose! Stirling castle was a royal home for centuries, and wasn't really meant to be a strong hold for fighting, but was positioned in a stategic place...sort of in the middle of Scotland's narrowest part of land. The Stuarts lived there, and there are major restoration works taking place on the palace/residential buildings at the moment. It will look amazing as they cover up all the stones with the lime wash, tinted in the same colours as they were originally. It is hard to imagine an old castle without it's stones showing - and yet, the majority of castles were probably once rendered in something...
We learnt more in our journey to understanding the positions of Englishmen, Scots and Jacobites, and the conflicts they had. Unfortunately there is still way much to learn, so I shan't attempt a definition as it would most likely be wrong! The kids most thoroughly enjoyed watching 'two of Cromwell's men' (with disticnctively Glaswegian accents)explaining how the seige went on the castle, when highlanders were the ones defending it, and also how to load and fire their muskets.
We repeated our never-to-be-repeated act of not having accommodation pre-booked, and headed to Oban. This time there was a lot less stress, as the first place we went to gave us a room - on the top floor- of course....it is always the top floor, which is good for the view, but not great for the lugging of heavy cases. It was a great big old house, on the end of the Esplanade. Even though it was part of a terrace building, it was still huge. Lots of rooms, at least 26, and a grand old drawing room downstairs, across the hall from the shared kitchen. All the front rooms look out into the bay. This is especially picturesque on a morning like this morning, where the waters are calm and still, and there are rows of sail boats, anchored in harbour.
We met a couple from Queensland, who have both left their jobs and are traveling the world for a year. What amazing places they have seen and been to. The man is calling it his midlife crisis...that's as may be...but what a way to have it.
Eliza's foot is getting better. She can walk most normally on it again, but it is still very tender.
On our last night in Plockton, we had dinner with Ailsa and Forbes, as they are holidaying near by. The good bye at the end of the evening was quite sad, and I had to focus on the possibility of them visiting us in Oz someday, as opposed to the likelihood of it being a long time, if not forever, before we see them again. Add this to the farewells at Bonar Bridge, and it starts to feel like things are coming to an end. However, we are now back at Innerleithen, enjoying the generosity of yet another of Cat and Stu's rellies (Stu's Mum and Dad this time). The focus will be on a good week, with lots to see and do...Edinburgh for example, and Melrose Abbey. Goodbyes will be dealt with later!

Speed, Bonnie Boat, like a bird on the wing

We have braved the midgies and visited Skye. Pleasantly, the midgies were no bother, and we were able to fully appreciate the scenery that is Skye.
The homes on Skye are distinctive in character, white, with slate rooves, with two or three ‘attic’ windows looking out from them. A little portico poking out around the front door. Most quaint. They are not so much concentrated onto road sides, as scattered over the hillsides. (Mainly around the township areas….other areas are quite bare of people and signs of them) There are craggy, smooth topped mountains, and a couple of quite sharp peaks in one spot, creating a landscape quite similar to those we encountered higher up on the west coast. The sea side is rather mighty looking – especially on a day like today where there have been wind warnings, as it is a stormy blue, with choppy waters wearing little white caps. Dark, ominous rocks poke their heads up amongst the waters, threatening boats but inviting birds.
Hours in a car do not rate highly on the kids lists of fun things to do, and I confess that today they missed much of the scenery by having their heads down, drawing on notebooks, to pass the time. Sam particularly was disgusted with himself (and us – because of course, it was our fault for not telling him, ‘Look now’) when he missed the Skye bridge going into Skye, and then again on our way out.
We did let the kids out at a playground at around midday, to stretch their legs before lunch. This ended badly, when Sam jumped off the seesaw without warning, with Eliza on the other end. Her poor left foot caught the impact as she came slamming down on top of it. There was screaming, followed by the usual debate that parents everywhere agonize over…do we find a hospital…do we let it go for a bit. I suppose that given our circumstances it isn’t surprising that we decided to let it slide a bit. (I should add that there were no visual signs of breakage at this point). She has continued to nurse it for the rest of the day, but I did see here walk towards some toys with nothing more than a slight limp mid arvo, and this evening she is walking on it again, albeit very gingerly. I think we shall be okay.
Whilst on Skye we visited the ancestral home of the McLeod Clan, in Dunvegan. I saw the vest of Bonnie Prince Charlie, which was good because I had been hanging out for some evidence of his fleeting visit. (We had stopped at the cemetery where Flora McDonald’s remains reside, and I was still missing some lines from the first verse, and chorus of the Skye Boat Song.) The gardens at Dunvegan are beautiful. Delightful. Waterfalls, wooden bridges, highly manicured garden beds and all enjoyed without being rained on.
We also popped into Skye’s only Whiskey distillery where two things happened. I found the words to the Skye boat song in a cabinet (unfortunately they were obscured with other bits of info) so I couldn’t quite make them all out. The other thing that I learnt was that I hate Whiskey. I took the little sampler thinking that perhaps my taste buds may have matured and a little sip of whiskey may prove enjoyable, but, er no. My taste buds have not matured enough that they enjoy the taste of acids, textas or petroleum products – guess I don’t need to worry about developing any nasty alchohol habits any time soon!
Flora MacDonald, by the way, was made famous when she smuggled Bonnie Prince Charlie from the mainland, to Skye, dressed as her handmaiden. He had been on the run since his defeat at Culloden, three months earlier, and from Skye escaped to France. Flora as captured and taken back to London as a prisoner, but her fame as a heroine spread quickly and all sorts wanted to visit her. Eventually she was released, returned to Scotland and married. She had five sons, and two daughters…and then emigrated to America, where her husband and her became caught up in the war of Independence. Her husband and sons fought. Husband was taken prisoner. She returned to Scotland to visit, and on the way home, was attacked by pirates and during the skirmish broke her arm which plagued her for the rest of her life. The amazing thing is that her husband and her were re-united in Scotland, and stayed and lived til old age. (Sadly, minus two sons, whose lives the war had claimed) She was such an inspirational woman, it is enough to make me like the name Flora!
We will head south tomorrow, visiting Eileen Doonan Castle, and Loch Ness on the way down, possibly staying at Oban or somewhere geographically similar. That will leave Tuesday to visit Stirling Castle, on our way back to Innerleithen. Then there will be only one week remaining before we leave Scotland, for ever. Gulp.

See the Scenery

See the Scenery


It occurred to me last night, as I lay in the hostel listening to revelers leave the bar, that I had done a very poor job as an artist – that is, that I hadn’t painted any scenes for you. So here goes.
The Orkney Islands are devoid of trees. I don’t know if it ever had them or not (what did the place look like, back when it had a Mediterranean climate??), or whether the weather is simply too unkind, either way, the view is one of green hills, that somehow manage to not look desolate. There are little crofts that are scattered over the island, abandoned and slowly falling to decay…..even they don’t look desolate….more intriguing, or quaint, or romantic…..but not desolate. This may also be attributed for the lovely weather we scored. By lovely, I mean that we never got caught in a heavy downpour, and that on more than a few occasions we had the sun actually shine on us. The wind was chilly when it blew, but we were even lucky enough to not have as much of that as we are lead to believe is common on the islands.
I also need to paint grass for you. It would be such a shame, if when I spoke of ‘grass’ - be it here, in the Borders, or even back in England- you pictured buffalo grass, or some kind of cooch. Firstly, paint it green. Not a washed out lime, but a full of energy dark green, then add sheen. It is shiny. Glossy. Chances are that it has, after all, been washed by rain rather recently, so it looks shiny clean. Now add about six inches to the length of lawn. There seems to be two kinds, one a flat, narrow blade, and the other, like super fine, non-pointy pine needles. Both reach a height where they bow down under their own weight making a very inviting sort of cover. But wait there’s more…even when there is not more….Firstly, there is usually a whole ‘nother layer beneath the long grass, that is made up of mosses, tiny ground covers, and a blend of other friendly weeds, like clover, dandelion etc. This adds a sponge like layer, that means when you walk on the grass, it is like walking on a gym mat, and when sitting on it, like plonking yourself on a cushion…a damp one, I grant you….but a cushion non the less. The interesting thing is that when there is NOT a layer of ground cover underneath, and you can just see the dark dirt underfoot; it is still springy. It is as if all of the centuries of plant matter, growing and then dying, and all of the water, constantly soaking into it, has created one big sponge. I suppose this is worse in the hills, but I can’t think of anywhere that we have walked, where this hasn’t been the case. In fact, in the hills, you are more likely than not to get wet shoes or feet, because the ground is so water logged, that when you step on the grass, your foot sinks deep into water-logged soil.
Before catching the ferry, we drove through Kirkwall, and stopped quickly at the cathederal. Unfortunately, this is a picture I just can not paint for you. I have neither the education nor the vocabulary to do it. Suffice to say it was impressive without being grandiose. It was provincial looking, but in no way simplistic. It was highly detailed craftsmanship, but not intricately fussy.
The ferry ride was most enjoyable as we lunched on board on our sandwiches, and tried the smoked cheese on oat crackers that we had purchased in Orkney, and tried the yummy rose lemonade.
I was most impressed that we met our agenda of visiting both the Castle of Mey, and Mary-Anne’s cottage. I may have mentioned that the Castle of Mey was the Queen Mother’s personal residence – bought specifically by her, when the place was on a waiting list to be knocked down. Rumor has it that it cost her 100 pounds, the price that the wrecking was due to cost. There is no proof of that but it makes an interesting story. The place has been left as it was when she lived there. Including her coat and hat on the downstairs chair, and her hob nail gum boots. Apparently Charles and Camilla were there only a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know how they normally live, but I shouldn’t be surprised if to them, Mey feels like slumming it. It feels a bit old. Normal really. Far too normal for a royal residence. Haha! Normal for a castle? I don’t know what I am going by as it has been ages since I lived in a castle. Ha! I simply mean that there are cement floors in some parts, and paint that is cracking and peeling. There is a sort of coldness and oldness in the furnishings which I don’t imagine the royal family to be used to. But maybe they are. Maybe everyone has a grandma’s house to visit, that feels like this one. I suppose when you look at it that way, it is exactly how the Queen Mum’s residence should be. Had a lovely guide there, by the way. Full of first hand info.
Mary-Anne’s cottage was the extreme other end of the social scale, as it was a crofter’s cottage that had remained fairly unchanged for the last 150 years. She had inherited it from her Dad, and even though she married and had a child, she didn’t like change, therefore, a visit is mostly a step back into the not-so-distant past. (Reminded me strongly of Petticoat lane, crossed with the sheds at Dergholm). Shane and I were a little on edge because the kids were allowed to touch things, and one is just waiting for the moment when something that has survived 150 years of farming life, and a decade of tourist visits, is destroyed in one foul moment, at the hands of one of your children. The worst that happened was when Sam and Lilli ran up to the quite large pile of peat, piled pyramid style on the front lawn. Sam grabbed a block on the corner, about half way up and gave it a little wiggle. By coincidence I looked up at that moment, and can vouch for him, that it really was no more than a little tap…..but down she came. Peat tumbled on top of peat and the lovely neat tower lost its corner, down the slope of the lawn. Ooops! How I wish we could have seen Sam’s face. I imagine that his eyes opened as wide as they could possibly go, while his mouth dropped open in horror. He froze, and must have been waiting for the peat to stop, and his parents to start. All he got was a mild sort of tut tut, and was made to help put things as right as we could.
We stopped the night at Durness, in a nice little b and b where they let us all squeeze in together. The cooked breakfast was a welcome start to the day, and we have since then been traveling. We visited the Smoo Cave (in Durness) which was speccy in its location and lay out. It has a gaping huge mouth, looking out into a bay. Running into the back of the cave is a water fall, whose waters pool in the cave, and then run out in a stream, across the rocks and out into the bay. We sat in a rubber dingy and had a little look around. The cavern is basically underneath one of the hills which make up the highlands, and so the water that runs down into it, is very brown in colour, the result of having filtered its way through so much peat. Apparently it is this ‘Peaty’ water that makes Whisky so good…
Cocoa Mountain also made it onto our visit list, as part of an artistic community in Durness. The Village was not pretty, but the people who choose to live there, an eclectic and talented bunch. We ended our tour at the Cocoa Mountain shop, if for no other reason than that they had soy milk. That is a big deal here. Fortunately, coffee shops haven’t been a big part of our travels, but had they been, I would be really sick of black tea by now…
The rest is scenery. Driving around and oohing and aahing at the achingly beautiful scenery. People kept telling us that the West Coast is their favourite part of Scotland. That its coastline is rugged and wild. The Highlands stunning. On our way north, I confess that I didn’t really expect too much. ‘People’ were right though. It surprises me that hills where trees refuse to grow can be so lovely to look at, but they are. There is a sort of greyness to it all. Rock exposed along the tops and in various places on the slopes, and where there is not rock, the dull purple of heather, and above it all, cloudy skies. But somehow this is beautiful….and then the sun comes out and POW, it takes your breath away. The colours brighten. The loch that seconds ago made a still mirror of silver, becomes a vibrant reflection in technicolour. Or choppy grey waters become a deep, dark blue. There is so much water everywhere that I frequently do not know if I am looking at a loch or a firth. The roads are winding their way amongst it all, like a show ride through God’s best theme park…only there are no tracks keeping your car on the path, and when one comes the other way, you need to make a spot to squeeze past one another….maybe He could work on that!
Tonight we are back in Bonar Bridge, and tomorrow we head to somewhere near Skye. It will be a day of more driving and looking, as opposed to getting out and doing. The kids probably don’t enjoy this as much, but in fairness are traveling really well – I just wish we had a cassette other than the Goon Show to listen to – perhaps a second hand shop may be worth a visit some time soon. I guess I will write when we have braved the midges on Skye, to tell you about that. Midges are awful by the way. Truly awful. You could simply suck them up your nose they are so small, light and thick in the air. Worse than mozzies. At least you can have a good go at smacking a mozzie out of its existence, but midgies…it is like trying to swat a spec of dust, whilst you are standing in a dust storm. I think the best plan is to just turn and run, but don’t scream or you will end up swallowing a good few dozen.

Orkney Wonders

Okay, so here we are in Scotland, visiting landmarks and buildings, older than the Pyramids of Egypt. Amazing places that give insights into how Stone Age Man lived.
We started our day by letting the kids run around the stones at Stepness. Just as the area around Stonehenge has standing stones around the place, so to do the Orkneys...only some of them are even older than those found at Stonehenge. They are in paddocks, and even in some peoples front yards. They are generally a thinner wedge than the ones in England that we have seen, but still sizable enough when you are standing alongside of them.
Our next stop was the one I was most looking forward to - Skara Brae. The water was once further off than it now is, on the coastline at Skail, and Stone age man, had a settlement there. Thing is, that no one knew that, because sometime between the six hundred years when it was inhabited, and the last few centuries, it had become completely covered in Sand and dirt, and no one knew it was there...until in 1860, when a fierce storm blew madly over the coast, blowing away the sand, so that the Laird of Skail House found a village, amongst the post-storm debris.
The amazing thing was, that there was still the 'furniture' inside the dwellings that were uncovered. We are not talking wicker settees here, but stone shelving, stone beds (minus the fillings and coverings...the only thing that lasts for five thousand years, is rock. Leather and fabrics would have been long ago perished. The houses were set down into the ground, with a hearth at the centre of the dwelling, a set of shelves against on wall, (think two big rocks lying on their sides, with a slab across them, then another two rocks on their sides, with another slab across them). Against the walls, there were two sections where slabs of rock jutted out creating the three more walls needed to make a 'box' for sleeping in. These bed areas had little shelves worked into the stone walls next to them. There was another 'box' like area with an enclosed area of dirt in front of it for I don't know what, along with several smaller 'box' holes in the ground, which I am also at a loss to adequately explain.
You get to walk through a replica of house no.7, but it isn't until you take the walk out to the edge of the sea, and (sticking to the path most strictly) walk amongst rooftops of the actual village that you get a good sense of the lay out of such a village.
A room like the one we walked through, made up 1 individual house and was joined by a network of tunnels to other homes of very similar layout. They are believed to be from the Neolithic Period (the late stone age) but really fascinatingly, they were actually built atop of older ones, with some mild differences in design, eg. the older ones built the sleeping alcoves into the walls, instead of having them jut out into the room. It is always amazing to imagine that people so long ago, already had a history so old that they were building on top of it!
We also went for a wander through Skail House, home of the man who discovered Skara Brae. This was interesting, but nothing 'wowish'. From there we drove to the Brough of Guerney. (Brough is pronounced, 'brock') Again, a fascinating look at the way people would have dwelt, but again, so old that we can only guess at so much stuff...like clothing and diet...as it is pre-history....nothing concrete to go by, just lots of inferences to be made. This reminded me of prefabricated buildings. You know in the city, how they manage to take an empty block and have a massive shed built on it a couple of days later, all with the use of prefabricated, concrete walls, that are shipped in in huge slabs and put together? Well, obviously, they didn't have concrete to make slabs, but they did have slabs of rock - and whilst they didn't come in sizes to order, they did serve as most useful to the builders of the time. A slab serves as a wall, as a barrier, a door, the edges of the bed (as described at Skara Brae) etc. The stone work here is all small stones, that is, they look a lot narrower than the stone work in wall and fences in other areas of Scotland. The centre of the Brough reminds me of a bee hive, sticking up above the ground, with a network of trenches, tunnels and hills, all weaving around it in a way that I am unable to complete the picture of.
We then drove on to the Brough of Birsay, which is on a piece of land which is only accessible when the tide is out. We didn't even visit the Brough, but enjoyed walking around the island, playing on the rocks, watching the ocean on either side of us, and hoping that the seals who were just off shore, would come in and give us a closer look.
Late in the afternoon, we returned to the hostel to do a load of washing, look in the shops along the street and grab some tea (from the chippy, and I add this simply to say that amongst the battered morsels we consumed, there was a slice of black pudding. Shane and I really like it but don't know if we should. Sam and Lilli both ate it without complaint- Eliza screwed up her nose at it though....I wonder when we should tell them what it is...)before heading to a Seven Pm tour of the Maeshowe site.
Lilli was getting herself a bit worried about this, as it is presumed to be a tomb, although no bodies have ever been able to prove this assumption. On the way to our tour, we stopped at the Ring of Brodgar for a quick look. This is the most significant looking of the standing stones, as they make a very large circle on a slight rise. They looked quite spectacular, with the centre of the ring being thick with heather, their purple, added to the stones, with dark green hills in the back ground, really was a sight to behold.
Maeshowe looks from the road, like a hill that shouldn't be there. It is a green mound that stands out for its height, on an otherwise flattish piece of land. Underneath the ground is a stone hut with four walls, which lean in, brick by brick to form a roof (which by now is long gone, and was replaced by a farmer last century, rather poorly I am afraid). There are three little 'L' shaped chambers, and then the low tunnel by which we entered. There were never any treasures found in there, which could be one of two things...one, that there never were any treasures, or two, that the Vikings took them all. And Vikings were most definitely there at some point, as they left their graffitti throughout. Seriously juvenille runes, like, "Eric the Viking wrote this rune this high," and the one above it saying something like, "John the Viking,wrote this higher than Eric the Viking" Apparently there are a lot of crude and crass things there as well, which the guide books do not share.
The Vikings are believed to have spent four days in there at some point, with two stories giving the reason. One being related to the treasure thing, that they came to plunder, and that it took them four days to do it. The other being that they were caught in bad weather and sought refuge within, staying - or being stuck there, for four days.
No one knows. One thing that they do know, is that on Winter Solstice, the sun shines through a wee gap above the original entrance doorway, lighting up the hallway and illuminating the 'tomb' with a lovely red light.
Tomorrow we must leave the island on the midday ferry and hope to do both the Queen Mum's house, "The Castle of Mey" and "Mary-Anne's Cottage" in the few hours left to us in the afternoon, before heading along the north coast, in a westerly direction, towards our next destination. We could have spent quite a bit more time here as there is so much to see, but I guess we have had a good taste of the history that the Orkney Isles offer, and shall have to leave island hopping, and artist trails for another time..or life...

35 and all is well.

Yesterday was my 35th birthday.
I can say it quite calmly.
In fact I have practiced saying it so that I can now get it out without it catching oddly in my throat. "I am thirty-five". Shane jokes that the reason we took this holiday was so that I wouldn't have time to dwell on my birthday, and another year being struck off of the calendar of my life.
I am quite ashamed of being ageist. In fact, ever since I learnt that there was a name for the condition, I have fought wildly against it, and have come to feel quite healthy, fit and strong...and happy about my age. After all, when I look back from my hundreds (you see, I plan to live to the age of 100), I will look back on my thirties as my infanthood. So much to still learn!
I have done some reflecting, however. Mostly on the outcomes to date, of this trip. You see, I thought that this would be a great time to develop some good habits, and work on eradicating some bad ones. For example, I thought this would be a great time for us to take responsibility for our Christian growth as a family - church would be irregular and fellowship fleeting, therefore, we would need to really get ourselves organised....what can I say, other than, HUMPH! Then there are behavious in the kids which I thought we would be able to work on. That was a silly idea really, but I just thought, we will all be together, all the time, so there will be no excuse for not pulling-up all of our socks.
I was also hoping that over the course of our trip, things would magically fall into place for me in the 'who-am-I-where-am-I-what-am-I" department. I say that a little tongue-in-cheek, and a little shamefacedly truthfully. I was reminded at the beginning of the year that when we ask 'Who am I' we are asking the wrong question. And there was evidence enough of that in my own life. We are to ask "Whose am I" and then it all begins to make sense. Problem is, that I know whose I am....I just don't feel peace about anything in particular.
Anyway, as this is a blog and not an online therapy session, I will share my conclusion. And that is...we are who we are. I am who I am. And happiness will not come by trying to change myself, but by learning to accept myself. Urgh. I hate the way that that sounds like something from a self-improvement book. But there you go. Who we were at home, is who we are on the road. Disappointing maybe, but a really interesting thing to learn.
If you are still with me by now....well done...I shall reward your patience with blogging about the trip, instead of my inner tumults.
We are now in the Okney Islands, staying in Stromness in one of the most lovely, homely hostels so far. We left Bonnar Bridge this morning where we had enjoyed the hopitality of Catriona's aunty, Morag, for the last two nights. Whilst there we visited Shin Falls, where we had the privelege of watching Salmon leaping up the falls. Amazing. The fish are programmed, at a certain time of the year to go up the river, from whence they came, to the breeding grounds. This in no mean feat, as you get a real appreciation of when you watch them try, and fail, to clear the water falls. Apparently the poor wee fellows are so exhausted by the time they make it to their destination, that they have only energy left to do the deed....then they die. I guess that might be a nice way to go....don't really know...can't speak on behalf of fish...
We had lunch there as a birthday treat for myself, and enjoyed looking at the Falls of Shin Shop, which is owned by Al Fahed, aka Harrod's fame. He has now sold Harrods, but continues to own this little shop in the middle of seemingly nowhere.
Our time in Cullen ended well. Lilli was taught to play chess by Ollie, the 12 year old son of the Hostel owners. He was a sweety, whose name was actually Owen, spelt the Welsh way, which is Alwyn. Very interesting, as Dad's middle name is Alwyn and he has never liked it - but perhaps if it had been pronounced 'Owen' he may have been fonder of it.
Before leaving Cullen, Eliza found a rock on the beach, covered with sparkling crustaceans of gold. We assured her and the other two, that it was highly unlikely that it would be gold, but we couldn't forsake it, just in case. Problem is, where does one find a geologist, or anyone, for that matter, who could tell us whether we had just found a rock which could pay for our holiday? Ta da! Bonner Bridge. Morag's son who was at home on our arrival is a Geologist! Good job Sandi! I only wish that you could have told us it was real gold, rather than fool's gold.
So - back to today. We drove to John O Groats, if for no other reason than it is a great name for a place, and is the furthermost town of mainland UK. We then drove west for a few miles, until reaching the port for the car ferry, which we caught across to the Orkneys.
From arrival we drove through Kirkwall, to Stromness, stopping on the way, for a gander at the Italian Chapel. This was a typical Nissan Hut, which was part of an Italian Prisoner of War camp during world war II. The Italian prisoners felt the need for somewhere to worship and they took this humble hut and made it into something beautiful. Now, all that is left of the rest of the camp is some stones in the grass, in a fenced off paddock, but the hut is beautifully preserved as the locals promised the prisoners it would be. In fact a team of artists came over from Italy some time ago to retouch the paintwork and keep it in tip top shape, as it has come to be an important place to the Italian people, as well as to the Orkadians. There is a masterfully carved face of Jesus in stone above the entrance, made by an Italian from one of the other camps (there were three separate camps on the Orkneys) whilst from within the camp near Saint Mary's, where the church was built, Dominichio Chiochetti took charge of the painting, and another man (who I apologise for not being able to name) took care of all of the wrought iron work. The end result is humbly beautiful. For the photo that was taken of the chapel on its completion, they hung a cardboard bell in the iron steeple, making all look complete and neat as a pin. In time that was replaced by a real one, from a ship in the area.
Tomorrow we are off to visit Skara Brae. Some of the oldest settlements of man, in all of Western Europe, are here, in the Orkney Islands. I can't wait to wander around them and see for myself, how people lived, before we started to record history. For all you Jean M. Auel fans out there - I reckon this will be how Ayla lived...soooooo interesting.
Tell you more when I know more.

Swimming At The Beach, In Scotland

I felt that the above should be the title of this post, as it is highly likely that it doesn't happen very often. I should also add, in a vein of honesty, that at no point did real, full body immersion, swimming take place. However, there was wading, and sitting in the waves, and by the time we came home there was sand in all of the customary cracks and crevices of the children, hence, I claim the right to refer to it as 'swimming'. The wind was gusty, but it was warm. Mild may be more accurate - but the temperature over all was very warm and so we made the most of it while we could. This was made all the easier by the location of our new Hostel, which is right beside the harbour! A harbour that has sand, of all the novelties!!
We are in Cullen Harbour Hostel, in Cullen. Ever heard of Cullen Skink? Well that is from here. Last night we were in a guest house / hotel in Carnoustie. We had to separate into two rooms, which was fine, and breakfast was included, so we lingered over that for an hour, and at ten am I was not my usual hungry self. It meant that a lunch of carrot sticks and apples was all that was needed by us all. (and so as to dispel any air of puritanical achievement, there were crisps, shortbread and french fancies all enjoyed at later times in the day.) After our noodle dinner, we went for a stroll and found a truly excellent playground on the foreshore. I think that Shane and I laughed and enjoyed ourselves as much as the kids! Seriously cool, and took some convincing this morning that the rain and the drive ahead made it not a possible spot to re-visit.
We followed the coast up to Aberdeen and then headed inland, via Huntly, to get to Cullen. Huntly Castle was somewhere that my friend and I had stopped and looked at 13 years ago when we went on our four day fly-around-Scotland trip (no, we didn't really fly - we drove) Do you remember that, Sandi? I loved it at the time, and enjoyed it just as much today as the sun shone down in warmth, making the green hills, tall trees and rushing stream even more enchanting than I recalled. It is a great castle to visit, as there are more internal walls intact on the inside, than one often finds at such an old place. It was first built up in the 12th Century by the Lord of Fife. Later it was inhabited by the Gordon family for ever so long, until the mid 17th Century when cruel treatment and political unrest saw them leave the place forever. Walking around and reading the info available, one gets a pretty good idea of how such a place may have looked.
Another bonus was the discovery that our English Heritage Card, will be honored at all Historical Scotland sites.
After writing the last blog, it occurred to me that I can not do real justice to the people that we are seeing and the kindnesses that they are showing us. Each person has their own story in my life, and I can't possibly recount them all - nor do I know that they would actually want me to... so if you are mentioned here....please do NOT feel glossed over....the personal exchanges that pass between us all are the most special moments of all; scenery comes second.
G'bye the noo.

I blinked, a week went by…

Last Friday we had a picnic lunch in a park with Lee-anne, before waving her off to Essex for the weekend. In the afternoon we took a drive to ______ Pass, North East of Ambleside, where we fulfilled our promise to the kids, that we would climb a mountain. We parked by a roadside ‘Free House’, in the carpark where many people stop to take walks up into the hills. We chose the side of the road where the hill did not look as high – our very reasonable logic being that we had a three year old in our midst, and the clouds that the cold winds were bringing along, were very grey and threatening. I stuffed my parka pockets with a bottle of water and some afternoon tea, and off we went. We fully expected to get drenched, but were very pleased…..like, VERY pleased, that we didn’t. We did get wicked winds making us unsteady on our feet at the top of the summit, but that was more exhilarating than alarming, and the view was brilliant. We sheltered under an overhanging rock to eat our fare, and even managed a few moments of silence, to listen to the noise of the wind, whipping the grasses together, and to think of home and all those we love. On arriving back at the car we all felt thoroughly alive, and the warm stillness inside the car was felt as a great luxury. Life can be so simple and so wonderful…. Makes me wonder why we haven’t climbed more mountains, taken in more views, and sat in silence in the country more often?
Saturday was bump out, and a bigger task than usual, due to having actually unpacked suitcases for the first time, and over the course of the week, spreading out like so much ivy. We hit the road soon after ten am and kissed the Lakes District goodbye with our eyes. Wishing like blazes that you had a photographic memory to tuck it all away in, and hoping fervently that one day you may be able to return and stay for longer. Every town is full of ‘walking’ shops… and every laneway, road and park, is full of walkers, er, walking. One day, I would like to join them and just walk around the country side until I can’t just picture the area, but can smell it and feel it too.
Our plan was to visit Birdoswald Roman fort, followed by Chester Fort, both in Hadrian’s wall, on our way to Scotland. It is without doubt a fascinating place to visit, and the achievement of the three regiments of Roman Soldiers who built (the majority) of the wall in under three years, is remarkable. (for those who aren’t familiar with Hadrians wall, it covers the land from the east coast to the west coast of England, right at the tippy top, only a couple of districts away from what is now Scotland. It sort of marked the edge of the Roman Empire’s lands – which were phenomenally large. The wall had forts built into it every mile (I think) where soldiers were posted to maintain control and order. The wall was in use more or less until the Roman Empire collapsed, and then certain areas were still inhabited….like Birdoswald, right up until the early 1900s.)
I really can not tell if it was the grey skies and occasional showers that dampened the mood, or whether there was too much of the same here, or whether I simply had ants in my pants because I was desperate to get into Scotland. Whatever it was, by the time we had finished our visit and eaten our sandwiches in the carpark (it was a really nice car park) we were all happy to make our way onwards, leaving Chester Fort to another day -or not. The drive was rather longer than I had anticipated, so I was glad that we hadn’t lingered any longer on touristy things...(or maybe it was those ants in my pants again). We stopped and took an obligatory photo at the Scotland / England border, and my heart began to feel a little lighter.
After loving the Lakes District so wholeheartedly, I confess that I was worried I would find Scotland to be secondary in beauty. That maybe my mind had built it up to be more that it could possibly be. But it is not so. I am the first to admit though, that objectivity is not something I can claim to have. You see, I am in love. I don’t know why and I wonder at it constantly. Maybe it is simply because of its beauty and magnificence (which, if I am making an attempt at objectivity, I would have to say does not surpass the Lakes District). Maybe it is because of the past that it represents to me – memories of independence, freedom and adventure. Or maybe it is the new present, spending precious time with precious people, and sharing it all with my very own family. I don’t really know. All I can say is that as we drive along the roadways, the entire time there is a gnawing at my heart. Like something is being turned over and over that needs to be resolved, and it feels akin to yearning, but for, I know not what. When we are out of the vehicle surveying the scene, I am breathing deep with not just my nose, but my eyes and flesh as well. Why do I feel such belonging to a country that isn’t even my own? It makes me feel downright disloyal, and yet I love our Australia as much as the fiercest patriot. So you see, love-sick. Love-sick, with Scotland!
Samuel and Nathan (or Nethan, as Sam can not stop calling him – I think it is because to his ear, that is what Cat and Stu are saying) were dressed as a pirate and fireman respectively, within about two minutes of our arrival at Innerleithen. A back yard to play in was considered a form of bliss by the kids (and consequently the parents, also). We formed a plan of attack for the following day and set about getting five excited children to sleep, which was not highly successful, but eventually worked.
Sunday bloomed into a fine specimen of a day, and we took a packed lunch up to the top of a hill, referred to as ‘the tower’, and all ate there. The sun cast its magic onto every blade of grass, every tree and the very view itself. We were warm, even hot at points and we couldn’t believe our luck. We kept telling the kids to enjoy the sunshine immensely as we may not get to see it again for the rest of our trip! I got stung by a bee on the thumb, and had midgies attempt to nibble us, and Sam had an attack of the stinging nettles, and yet nothing deterred the mood of the outing. Fantastic. Innerleithen was laid out below us, with the village of Walkerburn alongside. Getting the kids to keep going was sometimes a bit of a tire, …in fairness, I should be specific, because they were all great, except for Eliza who behaved as one struggling to cope…which is probably and adequate explanation really. She was outdone by the little legs on one year old Laila, who waddled along in trooper fashion, between bouts of being carried.
An old friend from the castle came by in the afternoon, Alison, bringing her two lovely kids, Ewan and Olivia. (more blondies, seriously, the kids all looked like cousins, not strangers from opposite ends of the earth) There was more happy playing in the back yard as new friends were made, and we old friends caught up. As the afternoon neared its end, we fulfilled a promise to the kids, and drove out of town, to a point where they could wade in the river. They all ended up building a damn across the width of the stream – and by all, I mean Stu and Shane as well, for what boy can resist an attempt at changing, or at least controlling, an element of nature? We went home to a succulent Roast Beef (by now, it is almost official that the Fulwoods are addicted to roast beef with gravy and Yorkshire puds), followed by Golden Syrup Dumplings (something that the Ormistons hadn’t tried, and which it therefore, seemed a necessity to provide them with). It barely needs saying, that Sunday, was a beautiful, golden memory kind of day, where you don’t need the benefit of hindsight to know that everything was perfect.
Monday saw us visit Peebles. Aaahh. The nostalgia. So familiar and yet so unknown at the the same time. We had morning tea with Agnes. A super sweet woman who is now in her retirement, who I knew from my days at the Castle. Her and Cat keep in touch and the timing just worked out well for me to tag along on a pre-planned visit. Lunch in the park by the Tweed. Separate ways for a while, and then Cat and I headed into Galashiels, whilst the blokes looked after the kids and helped build a new fence in the back yard. By the time we returned, the blokes had not only done the above, but also fed and bathed the kids, and we were in time to be shown to our seats, in the back yard, to watch the ‘circus’ which the kids had prepared for us. Circus is a pretty good description actually. There were clowns and games and even a programme for us to keep track of things with. It was about then that I asked Cat if the swarming things EVERYWHERE, like bits of ash floating in the air, were midgies. To which she replied yes. Man oh man. Freaky. They seriously are thick in the air, and so it pays to stay well covered.
Tuesday we left Innerleithen, to go to Broughton, where Cat’s mum and dad live. The afternoon was passed at Doug and Morags’ with the kids meeting three more children to play with, these ones with a bit of DNA in common. Seriously, it is really hard to name the relationship for the kids, I think they must be third cousins or something like that. It was really cool seeing D and M again, and meeting (and re-meeting) all of their children. We were lucky enough to stay for dinner and we left there having had a really lovely time, and having been made to feel really welcome.
Wednesday was Stobo day. We took the kids out to see where Mummy used to work, and on Teresa’s invitation, were able to share lunch with her… and then Yvonne joined us…which was a most excellent bonus, and we even had the pleasure of Mr Winyard’s company. There was much laughter and pleasure at the reunion. Neither woman looked any older, which I thought pretty impressive given the years that have slid by. We were given a tour of the new part of the castle, and of the Cashmere Suite, all of which you can probably find on line if you were to look up ‘Stobo Castle’. Teresa most generously invited us to hers if we needed somewhere to stay and again, we left the visit feeling really, really lucky. What a buzz it is catching up with great people from your past, and both parties deriving real joy from it.
Today we have departed from Hotel Fordyce, where the service is second to none, and the rooms such that you wonder if perhaps you should stop touring, and just stay… (which they have incidentally offered as an option) But no. The North of the country calls. Begging a visit. We are on our way. Drove through the kingdom of Fife today which I have been chomping at the bit to see. But enough. Enough. Your eyes are tired and so are my hands. Enough, and goodnight.