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….
Monday, September 20, 2010
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…
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…
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
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...
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...
Monday, September 13, 2010
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!!
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….
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….
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
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.
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.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
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...
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...
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