Day 26: Balmoral & Braemer

We were served breakfast bang on the dot (8:15am, as requested) downstairs by our hostess’ harried husband who was attempting to serve people who evidently had turned up before their order time. He explained patiently to an American couple how to properly smoke salmon and outlined how Grantown-on-Spey came to be to four idiotic Australians (sometimes I despise my countrymen) who seemed to be more interested in pestering him with questions than letting him do his job.

Grantown was ordered to be built by Sir James Grant, a local lord who, after “clearing” his tenants, wanted a place for them to live, rather than lose them overseas. We had just missed the 250th anniversary of this - our English host seemed quite enamoured with this Sir James and his practices (he was also against deforestation in the 18th century!).

While I ate my porridge (“nasty stuff” our host said - I held up Nutella and assured him “I came prepared!”), the Aussies then got the year of the First Fleet’s arrival hopelessly wrong. We left at 9am because A) I wanted to avoid crowds at the castles, B) I wanted to get there before the Aussies who were also planning to go and C) I was desperate to get to Edinburgh at a reasonable time, made slightly difficult by the spare tyre.

I was cautious on the B roads and single lanes. Some idiot bus driver ignored a sign that showed a sharply rising and falling bridge. It was tiny so the bus could not cross it - but we did, dodging the pedestrians it disgorged. Oh how I hate passing places that look dodgy to a spare tyre.

Balmoral Castle awaited. We walked over the river to the ticket office where we boarded a trailer pulled by a Land Rover which took us up to the castle. We had a pleasant walk past the stables (these held vehicles important to the British royal family, including one which was tall enough inside for the Queen to exit standing up) then through the gardens which were bursting with produce and flowers due to be cut for the royal family on the weekend.

Flowers and food fit for a queen.

The castle would be closed the next day so that the Queen could enjoy her summer holiday there. Yesterday Antiques Roadshow filmed at Balmoral. Staff members were still fussing about how they had looked on television. Apparently the grounds had been crowded - we timed our visit perfectly.

The castle was folly-like, built as a summer escape. The only large room was the ballroom. It held a dinky car used by the Queen then Prince Charles in childhood. It was sweet, watching a reel of child!Charles playing with his sister.

Balmoral Castle

The ground staff were friendly. Ride On Mower Guy even helped a woman get a better shot of the castle. We walked around the part of the castle where Queen Victoria would have stayed then had pancakes at the cafe before being driven back to the gate. A nice little place. It has freaky natural water though. The “brown water” feeding Balmoral comes through peat so it looks like dark urine, even after you flush the toilet!!

I wonder if Queen Victoria ever had pancakes here?

We left just as the crowds were arriving then drove 9 miles to Braemer Castle, which had a slightly more impressive past. It was a fortified 17th century hunting lodge turned anti-Jacobite garrison turned family home. It began as a tower so the guy who owned it wouldn’t get nabbed by jealous neighbours!

A wall encircles the tower. The stairs inside were wider than I expected, but it was never meant to be a stronghold. The family left some years ago so the community runs and restores it now. There was a very friendly woman in the gift shop who I discussed the weirdly negative reviews on Trip Advisor with.

I especially liked the 18th century soldier graffiti in the mess/dining room. Touching it sent an exciting shock from my fingers up my arm. There was a tartan on display in another room; it was given to the lady of the castle by Bonnie Prince Charlie in return for her help. Very interesting castle.

We headed back to Edinburgh at the excruciating speed of 50mph which pissed off a whole bunch of people (trucks and caravans included!) on the dual carriageways. Damn spare tyre of doom. I got honked at by one truck. But we made it back!

We dropped off car, explained the spare tyre to a guy and then got very lost with heavy suitcases on our way to out hotel. Tears and sweat were shed until I, the introvert, asked a nearby smoker where to go. It worked!

Then we had a lunch/dinner at 4:30 at the Hard Rock Cafe. I figured I’d be okay having two meals in one - haha nope. My lack of gallbladder causes some interesting side effects, but I am very glad to be without that dastardly organ.

Later I put on an episode of Star Trek Enterprise which was on TV but my fiancé hadn’t seen season 4 - shock, horror!!

Day 25: Loch Ness

The day started well. We left beneath a very well-behaved sky, putting behind us Skye and its terribly slow caravans and roadworks. We grumbled about idiots going at slow speeds and refusing to pass slower vehicles, causing queues. We complained about still more slow idiots who held up traffic without pulling into a bay. Little did we know we would be one of those idiots by the end of the day.

We parked back at Eilean Donan Castle for a bathroom stop. I was alarmed at how long it was taking to get to Loch Ness. By the time we pushed off from the castle, I was thinking we should avoid Fort George because I was tiring and wanted to get off the road.

I cruised at 60mph. The road narrowed. A caravan came at me. I moved to the side - looked like a slight ditch there maybe - then boom-psshh! Crap!

My fiancé confirmed my hypothesis by saying he thought we’d blown the front left tyre. I found a safe place to pull into on the second attempt, then re-parked to ensure my fiancé had enough room to change the tyre without hanging out onto the road. I had heard horror stories about people being hit by cars while doing this. While I freaked (I had been very calm until I had nothing to do!), my fiancé set to work, jacking up the car and getting out the shitty “space saver” spare tyre which looked awfully thin. A sticker said we could only go 50mph on this!

I managed to help at one point by showing my fiancé how to loosen the nuts - I never knew being forced to do this one task at a Year 12 camp would come in handy! Then I stepped back, conceding to greater knowledge and experience. I rang the car hire company who put me onto a call out. Talking to the call out people was faking annoying. The guy needed to know exactly we had stopped. I was on the A887 but where? Near the A87 intersection? But where?

My fiancé had to rejack, having used the wrong spot. I firmly told him not to rest his foot under the car. Yikes! Finally he got the spare on - oh dear, his hands were filthy! As we cautiously drove on, he rang to cancel our call out then asked what to do. Our car hire company suggested we find one of their tyre places but we had no idea when we’d find one. Because we were returning it the next day at Edinburgh, they seemed alright with us just dropping it off as is. We had paid for full insurance.

After driving like a slow idiot and not being able to overtake caravans, I got us to Urquhart Castle on Loch Ness (my fiancé wondered just how many of the people we got annoyed with earlier had been on spare tyres). I somehow nabbed the last parking spot. Crazily busy! It wasn’t like this in spring!

People. People everywhere.

Cafe stop for a late lunch - badly needed. I was still shaking from adrenalin as we went outside and I could barely focus, even though the weather was much better than during my spring visit in 2013. It took a late phone call to Australia, finally achieved while I stood on the Grant Tower, to calm me down. My dad reassured me that people could drive on spares for weeks. An extra day would be okay. I finally, finally relaxed.

Grant Tower

The castle was crawling with tourists. So frustrating! Summer is not a good time to explore Scottish landmarks. Getting up and down the Grant Tower in this day and age, with queues and screaming children, was surely harder for us than the armed men who stormed it multiple times. Damn!

You know you want more photos of ruins. Admit it.

I loved explaining the ruins and telling my fiancé about the stupidity of the castle owners. They had such an impressive gatehouse, but a shit narrow wall on the water gate side - and this gate was not so strong and used more often! We discovered that the bagpipe music pervading the area came not from speakers but from an actual player. Lovely.

*hums loudly*

I left, feeling calmer, though I did not acquire the desired coasters to match the one I have at home. Sadface. I continued to drive at 50mph as dictated by the shitty tyre, annoying the hell out of everyone on the roads. The car insisted tyre pressure was off (ya think!?) and the bigger blown out tyre took too much room in the boot. Grrr!

We arrived unscathed in Grantown-on-Spey which looked peculiarly neat - I later discovered it was a planned Georgian town. That explained the vaguely English look! Our hostess at the B&B was very helpful and chatty. She booked a place for dinner for us.

We were amused by the waitresses at the restaurant - there wasn’t much to do before the rush so they were very chatty. Some were newbies and just learning. One discussed Cecil the Lion with game hunters. Others made fun of the hostess at our B&B (!!? that is just not on!). But the food was good.

Hopefully tomorrow’s trip to Edinburgh goes well on that blasted tyre…

Day 24: Skye

Firstly, and most importantly, we woke to this magnificent view.

Skye is such a try-hard.

After breakfast (my fiancé ordered kippers which he regretted - so many bones to pick out!), we set off for Claigan, determined to find the souterrain once and for all. The one lane road was quieter and mostly there were locals turning up to park, though there were some people in vans and caravans who had obviously ignored or misinterpreted the sign that said “O OVERNIGHT PARKING”. The N was absent.

Following the instruction of a map we had seen online, we followed a track past two gates, many properties, lots of sheep and thousands of pieces of shit! We found remnants of Neolithic activity - stones and lumps and bumps, etc. But the actual position of the souterrain - behind a fence!

Disheartened and uncertain about the unusual law in Scotland that allows you free reign on private property, we turned back. Later my research would conclude that it might have been feasible to continue but under the Scottish Outdoor Access Code you can’t damage things like fences and we could have done that trying to get over it. Still, my fiancé decided it as a win as we had actually found the souterrain, according to the Internet.

We dashed off to Dun Beag Broch. I consider brochs to be the stage between Neolithic stone houses and medieval castles. I managed to park in the wrong spot - but so did the family we ended up climbing up to the broch with.

It rose impressively on a hill, dominating all of us. The sheep didn’t seem so bothered. The climb wasn’t too bad, though the grass was studded with stones that were scatted as though they had spewed from the broch like ash from a volcano. Had they fallen over time or had they been smashed down?

Whoa.

We fought rough wind which made me feel like TV presenter Neil Oliver with my hair blowing all over my face while my fiancé tried to take a photo.

A sign claimed the broch had only been abandoned in the 18th century - that’s almost 2000 years of continual habitation! I noticed what appeared to be the ruins of a 19th century cottage nearby, made of bastardised stone.

I enjoyed this broch. It was slightly different in format to Carn Liath on the A9. We could climb small stairs and even walk around a passage (sadly the wall only came up to below our knees) between the double walls. There was a “guardhouse” as at Carn Liath but the entrance faced inside instead of to the side. Dun Beag Broch is an impressive structure, even in ruins with its carpet of grass.

Dun Beag Broch won't be winning any interior design awards.

This broch had a much more commanding view than at Dunvegan Castle - makes you wonder if Leod’s ancestors lived in this broch before upgrading, keeping it as an outpost! This is the best place for a broch.

I could live here.

We left the others there, pleased with this find at least. Back in Dunvegan, we ate at a cake shop. I enjoyed the jasmine tea but my liver protested over the triple chocolate muffin. Thank God I no longer have a gallbladder! We then ducked into a tiny cottage which was signposted as the Great Angus MacAskill Museum.

It held a life-sized replica of the man himself who was nearly 8 feet tall and performed great feats of strength. Angus MacAskill had emigrated to the US after the highland clearances and did well for himself. A distantly related clansman runs the museum. Apparently Angus was a true giant, not one afflicted by gigantism. Interesting but not sure it’s worth the 2 pound entry fee!

Our day was done. We relaxed the whole afternoon away before a nice dinner at the bistro. I had a surprisingly good chilli con carne. Back to the B&B for photo editing.

Now watching BBC iPlayer while writing this exact sentence.

Goodnight.

Day 23: Skye

We awoke with the alarm, then had a lovely breakfast (here I finally had a salty start to my day, care of Marmite). We sat by the window closest to the loch, admiring the view. The clouds were so low in front of the mountains that it looked as though they were moored there, invisible anchor lines thrown down into the loch. Our host, after feeding us, gave us advice and a map showing us how to find nearby walks. After days in the car, my feet were rearing to go.

We began the Two Churches Walk which started at an ruined chapel on an ancient religious site. I roamed the graves before my fiancé found a way out. He headed for the Duirinish stone; I followed. Squishy shoe-stealing ground (the beginnings of bogs, I suspect) prevented us from getting close. Not a huge loss - it was only erected in 2000. Sensibly, they placed a time capsule at the base so no one will be confused when collective memory fails.

We rejoined the muddy track that was littered with glossy black slugs, both alive and smushed. The track turned into dense, prickly vegetation before we were regurgitated on the side of the road near out destination.

The site of Dunvegan Castle has been lived on for 800 years. It is the seat of power for the MacLeods! We ambled through the gardens towards it. At first I denounced it as indefensible and 18th century in date, as the crappy bridge and entrance screamed “folly”. Hmm, but it was on a rock which would have been able to use the loch waters as a moat…

A nearby sign revealed that the bridge and entrance I despised had been added by some clan chief or another. The castle had once been accessible by boat only. The keep boasted a longer history. Intrigued, we stepped inside, cameras dutifully put away.

If it looks like a folly and quacks like a folly...it might not be!

The living areas had a distinctly 18th century flavour - they were also painted a hideous soft pink. While placards told us this or that room was medieval, they were dressed from a newer century. A pleasant sitting room was revealed by a guide to be a former Great Hall but was reduced by 10 feet so it would be more comfortable for a clan chief and his family. We were promised that the stonework was beneath the timbers under out feet. This was in the original medieval keep that replaced an earlier fort. The windows showed just how wide the walls actually were, built in the castle’s defensive past.

Then it began. You’d turn a corner and find a room so much more ancient in appearance than the one before it. The dungeon remained, a tiny pokey room with a floor cell. Creepy. We admired the Great MacLeod Sword, made in the 16th century, and we read the family tree - Leod was at the top, of course.

Outside in the back courtyard, we saw the seagate, originally the only entrance. The guide was pointing out to a group how the new additions and the old stonework were rendered so that it all matched. No wonder I had thought the whole thing was a folly!

Sinful chocolate was to be found in the gift shop. Omnom.

We walked back to the B&B and passed the post office which had five Royal Mail vans squeezed outside it. It must be a depot! We had lunch at the oldest bakery in Skye (150+ years old) where we both had burgers. I was not enthused until I received the tasty meal (but I put too much hot English mustard inside - my nose was unpleasantly jolted!). My fiancé was enthused, but only until he received a bun - with unmelted butter! How he hates that!

We drove to Claigan to walk to the coral beach. It was windy, but hot and cold by turns as we were walking a fair distance. Despite seeing evidence of Neolithic habitation (including a suspiciously burial mound-shaped thing we posed on for photos) I could not find the Claigan souterrain (a later Google search would reveal its location - may go back tomorrow).

A view worth questing for.

Claigan is beautiful and practically Atlantic. Crazy parking though - everyone just goes where they want, despite the marked areas. A douchey caravan parked in a passing place, so badly he overhung onto the… “road” is a generous word.

It was single lane traffic back to Dunvegan Castle - what a nightmare. Such a busy road. Good amount of passing places though.

I had headache so my fiancé got me takeaway dinner and snacks!

Day 22: Eilean Donan & Skye

The morning began with rain - and an amusing display downstairs in the breakfast room. Other guests at breakfast discussed marathons from the previous day and requested piles of food while talking about all the weight they were losing. Our grandmotherly host kept appearing to take orders of hot food from the guests, then would always finish with, “All good? Yes.”

She was a very pleasant woman who seemed keen to chat even as we were heading out the door. The rain eased as we hit the arterial road, though we found ourselves fighting terrible drivers who have apparently never learned to take the bends at reasonable speeds. They would speed up on straights so I could not overtake them easily. Annoying!!

We stopped briefly for a hot chocolate and a gander at the gorgeous scenery which was beginning to become a bit old hat - no wonder locals take it for granted!

After an hour or so, we finally reached Eilean Donan Castle which stood on an island (accessible by footbridge), defiant against the overcast sky. It was packed. I had to squeeze my car into overflowing overflow parking and copped a squat on the least muddy ground I could find. The longer walk to the castle was worth it - what a view!

The most photographed castle in the UK...gets another photo taken of it.

It would be hard to sneak across the bridge to the castle, though the bridge was a 20th century addition. As we walked over, we saw that the restored walls were smooth - so try to get on a boat and climb that! The 13th century version of the castle had been bigger - but over the centuries a smaller garrison shrunk it then it fell to ruin before becoming some dude’s home. The MacRae clan have their reunion here.

Have fun climbing those walls.

The more modern interior bits formed a fun maze but I enjoyed looking down at the old well more. The castle was filled with tiny passages and tiny stairs - perfect for a Jacobean stronghold. Not so much fun for crowds of tourists! Happy to escape across the bridge.

We crossed over into Skye. The scenery somehow became even more wonderful, rising over the water. We veered off towards the Clan Donald Skye Visitor Centre because we had time to burn before our 4pm check in over at Dunvegan.

There was a restaurant at the visitor centre which yielded local venison lasagne that just tasted like normal lasagne. I am becoming a huge fan of elderflower drinks. They are floral, but not overpoweringly so. We meandered up to the ticket office and noted that there was mention of castle ruins. The gardens offered pleasant strolls and if I lived near the centre, I’d walk there every day.

The castle looked suspiciously like a folly; it paled beside Inveraray. I guessed it to be 18th-19th century. I was right. This castle was 1790 onwards, laughably indefensible but times were changing then, stabilising. It fell to fire and ruin.

Pfft. You call that a castle?

We moved towards the museum, encountering a herb garden where I caught a whiff - no, a plume of fragrant thyme! We found the old laundry and explored those ruins before venturing on.

The museum talked about the ancient history of the isles, which featured Picts, Vikings and the prolific McDonalds. A newly constructed stone circle stood in the museum. That will confuse archaeologists one day!

Outside in the gardens a lone peacock lurked nervously. A sign at the entrance had angrily told people to keep their dogs on leashes as one peacock had perished and the remaining one was often harassed. Well, he posed for photos then chased us, sometimes at a fair clip, all the way back to the entrance. Buses full of tourists were turning up so it was time to leave.

Poor peacock :(

More slowpokes on the road. More GPS shenanigans (it took us down a single-lane road for no reason - this road had so many passing points and so much space either side they might as well make it two lanes!). We passed Dun Beag Broch - going too fast to stop, whoops - and finally made our way into Dunvegan.

Our B&B looked quaint, standing across the road from its parking. It had a telescope in the entrance. We were a few minutes early, but this was nothing to our long suffering hostess who’d had people turn up hours early or late, past her bedtime. We bonded over people being unable to read webpages and who were poor timekeepers.

We were shown to our room which had a lockable sliding door but this is in a corridor behind another door (this one was unlocked) that says “emergency exit and room 5”. It’s like having our own extra (if chillier) room. Half the ceiling slopes down but it gives the room a cosy feel. The small window lets us keep an eye on the car and the lovely loch. Damn those stairs are a killer with suitcases. The candles lining the hallways give a soothing effect. This is the perfect honeymoon spot.

Our hostess booked us into a restaurant which is hard to get into. We went there after I bought thistle and heather teas. So far I have tried thistle which is mixed into a black breakfast tea - an unusual taste. The restaurant was small, intimate, and the most romantic place I’ve eaten at. I enjoyed sitting beneath those fairy lights, tapping my toe to Scottish reels from the speakers (“no singing, no dancing, no swearing” a sign warned - oh well) and smiling over at the man I love, fielding his attempt at footsies and holding his hands.

We were offered homemade bread - cheesy wholemeal. My pheasant breast was divine. All in all, an awesome place.

Can’t wait to continue our relaxing time in Skye tomorrow, although apparently rain is dune.

Day 21: Inveraray, Dunstaffnage & Inverlochy

We left Glasgow after 10am, headed for Inveraray. As soon as we hit lochs, it became difficult to keep my eyes on the road as the scenery was so beautiful, savage, welcoming, rough and lovely. The sun dotted through heavy clouds; it shed light in such a way that it seemed the hills and mountains were only just then lazily rising from their Sunday lie-in.

Loch Lomond was so inviting - and it wasn’t raining - so we stopped there. All the pay machines were on the fritz so I nervously went with my fiancé to what was signposted as “the beach”. Dirt lined the edges of the loch, as did ambling tourists and grumpy ducks. We then rejoined the road which was very windy as it had to go around many lochs.

How could you not stop for that view!?

Inveraray Castle appeared beneath a weary sky that threatened rain. It had ample parking. We noted the windows set low in the dry moat. It seemed an illogical place for windows. We discovered that this castle was never defensive, even though it was built near the time of the Battle of Culloden. The moat is decorative and houses the tea room.

We spent a brief time in the gardens but they were bland and uninteresting, perhaps because Scottish flora is either deep green or dark brown. Still, I got a good shot of the original entrance. At the newer entrance, the entry was quite small and modest - you could walk into the original larger entry now situated at the rear of the castle.

Entrance-ception.

The first room I entered proudly bore production stills from a Christmas episode of Downton Abbey, the one in which Matthew dies. That explained why it looked a little familiar! An 18th century home, it is still inhabited by a duke who is also the chief of the Campbell clan. The Campbells must be very canny to have survived Scotland’s tumultuous history - and on top! My fiancé claims Campbell ancestry and he is quite clever.

Yes, that is a creepy mannequin in the background. 

The armoury was amazing. Each wall was filled with muskets and blades, some 500 years old! The towers would be useless in defence - you had to go up the main stairs to get to each level of them. There was good food was in the tea room. I had local salmon with cream cheese on a bagel! Bought hilariously small whiskey bottles in the gift shop.

We departed. Specks of rain on the windshield worried me, but the skies seemed to hold off as we headed into Oban in search of Dunstaffnage Castle. The signs promised we were getting near but we first had to get through a maze of parking lots belonging to some sort of scientific installation. But then we found our destination and walked along the loch towards it. Dunstaffnage is an impressive 13th-18th century castle - most definitely used for defence.

Come at me, bro.

It sat upon a giant rock that looked as though it had been thrown there by a giant. Though mostly in ruins, thanks to a 19th century fire, its wall could block anyone mistaken for thinking that the lack of moat made Dunstaffnage an easy target. We climbed stairs up to the gatehouse, where a drawbridge would have been pulled up. The castle guards the water and boats could find safe harbour there.

The towers were in ruins and the ground was grassy, enough to make you forget that you were on a rock above the ground - especially with such walls around you. There was a well in the courtyard. Tiny narrow stars led you through the levels of the guardhouse.

Bit of paint...bit of carpet...it'll be great!

The rain grew insistent so we popped into the gift shop before finding shelter in the car. Onward we went to the “old” Inverlochy Castle (the newer one is a mansion-turned-hotel). The ruins were on Loch River, near Fort William. What remained of Inverlochy Castle was a walled outline including the ruined towers. A sign boasted a visit from Queen Victoria though she apparently complained that there was not much to see - but many castles are like this! As we entered, we passed a deep ditch - a former moat. Inverlochy Castle worked in tandem with Urquhart Castle at Loch Ness to guard the waters.

 

Then we located our B&B - we were given a very purple room! I liked it. But when we left to find dinner…disaster. We drove to Spean but even at 6pm we were turned away from a restaurant as they were solidly booked. We watched others turned away. Every other eatery in Spean was shut on Sundays!?

We went to a lovely pub in Fort William for dinner. I enjoyed my usual Malibu with Diet Coke.

Much happier turn of events. =D

Day 20: Glasgow

We farewelled Edinburgh, regretting our departure when it started to rain on us and our luggage while we waited outside for a taxi to convey us to Waverley Station. We suffered through a queue at the car hire place, then had many trying attempts at starting the satnav and then we braved the tiny roads of Edinburgh - people seem to think they can park in narrow streets that barely fit the two-way traffic.

Somehow, after throwing a U-turn near the Scottish Parliament, we managed to escape Edinburgh and its cobbled streets. Once I was hitting 70mph on a motorway, I relaxed and enjoyed the rental car, so like my car at home. The diesel tank means the acceleration kicks in rather abruptly, though.

Bothwell Castle’s ruins greeted us beneath a threatening sky. We approached the castle, passing unfinished fortifications from centuries ago. Even ruined, the castle was impressively large, if empty inside. The donjon was closed for restoration so we received a discount.

Both-very-well.

It was easier for us to storm the red stone castle than the English during the Independence Wars - they had to use belfreys. Fireplaces and stone benches could still be seen in the walls. The basement and cellars survive and most of the castle is gone, though you can walk into the Great Hall that conveniently has its own latrine - handy for guests too incapacitated to find their way out and across to the latrine tower! As we stood here, imagining minstrels on the wall that would have held the gallery, it started to rain, increasing in speed and volume.

Bit of a gloomy Great Hall these days.

We sheltered in the gift shop as Scotland’s rain slapped the little hut. I bought terribly good cookies and a guidebook. After waiting, we decided “screw it” and ran for the car. Then we acquired lunch from the nearby area. I later read that some guy used the stones from the castle to build a new one in the 17th century, only for it to be outlasted by the ruins, thanks to coal mining subsidence.

We drove to Glasgow and went round and round, failing to find the hotel car park and finally opting for a public car park with reasonable prices. It was a short walk away. After ditching our bags, we headed for Glasgow Cathedral. The sky spat on us but not often, but I still chose to opt for the small camera.

Glasgow’s buildings are lighter than Edinburgh’s, like in London. Edinburgh is volcanic and dark. We passed George Square which seethed with children involved in games and activities, smiling in delight while their parents watched them, pleased to be able to step back.

An attempt at being artistic.

Bagpipes greeted us at Glasgow Cathedral, as did a sign declaring a wedding. Fortunately, the happy couple weren’t tying up the historical location but were tying the knot in a nearby building. We entered the cathedral and a 2 pound donation gave me the confidence to whip out the camera - but oddly it whirred, refusing to focus. This happened a lot and I suspected paranormal shenanigans - perhaps from Saint Mungo, whose tomb was to be found under the main part of the cathedral.

This is a beautiful, old cathedral with so many separate sections you could run several services at once. I saw many tourists in the pews on the main level, though one man seemed lost in contemplation, oblivious to the intrusion.

We wandered outside over some graves, seeking the Necropolis, when a man struck his head out the door and shouted down some directions to us. I suspect he was being less helpful and more annoyed that we were trampling over stone markers. But he did stop us from hitting a dead end. Haha.

Church Lane follows a bridge over a road. It delivered us to the large green hill with its layers of headstones, monuments and mausoleums. The Glasgow Necropolis is a nice, peaceful place and also very large - the top had a good view of the cathedral. There was plenty of space for more graves further down, closer to the road. I saw small trees/large plants growing out from the bases of headstones, toppling the stones to the ground.

Hamunaptra...I mean, Glasgow Necropolis

It started to rain a little more so we left that lovely place. However, the rain stopped as we made our way to Merchant City, its origins in the 18th century when merchants started building there. Roads were closed, giving a festival of some sort free reign. Crowds crawled their way down market stalls wasting money on food and gifts. I myself lost several pounds on sweet things.

While Edinburgh is awesome, and Stirling has an impressive spread of buildings, Glasgow is alive with people.

Brief respite in hotel, then out for a great Indian restaurant. It was atill bright and busy in Merchant City!! Barely got a table. While we were out, we saw a statue of the Duke of Wellington wearing a traffic cone, which I thought was amusing. It turns out the council wastes 10 000 pounds a year removing traffic cones from the poor dude.

"My hat is fabulous. Stop laughing!"

“Home” again in our tiny hotel room. I’m watching history docos on BBC iPlayer.


PS: argh did I really eat all those rum balls

Day 19: Edinburgh

We did not arise from our slumber until 9am, when the phone alarm went off. I was annoyed by how late we woke, but I felt well rested. After breakfast we somehow managed to trot out into cool Edinburgh. The sky was overcast, but the forecast promised we would be fine until the afternoon.

We began our trek through the Grassmarket area, the castle looming overhead and positioning itself as the master of Old Town. It is always fun to figure out which level we need to be on and which bridge we need to get to the other side of the city.

There were some tourists about but we seemed to escape most of them as we walked down to Calton Hill - and then up it! Calton Hill seemed so small in the dull morning light - when last I had been there for the Beltane Fire Festival, darkness had erased all boundaries. It was also confusing to see the true placement of the structures and monuments - they seemed to have been strewn dizzily around during Beltane, but now the area seemed less surreal and vaguely boring.

I was also annoyed with the number of tourists walking about and lingering at places of interest, ruining my photos. Two were hogging the National Monument of Scotland; these women posed between the columns for a good long while, making their long suffering friend circle the monument to take photos from different angles. Their antics infuriated this photographer - ah, but the views of the gorgeous Salisbury Crags were worth it.

Edinburgh: possibly the most picturesque city in the world

We found a shortcut down to Holyrood Palace. The building is grand, but it is literally overshadowed by the immense volcanic creation rising above it. Well, it was not shadowed when we arrived. My fiancé had not been there before so we eschewed audio guides and I filled the role instead. I pointed out the paintings with slashes whenever I saw them, explaining how they had been mangled then restored.

One particular small painting in Mary, Queen of Scots’ bedchamber looked like it had been literally hacked. The floors in this oldest section were easy to spot - or hear, rather. The snap, crackle, creak stalked us all the way around that side of the palace. I saw something I had not noticed last time - the place that marked where the body of David Rizzo had been dragged after he was murdered centuries ago.

Perhaps it was the suggestion of a corpse or wishful thinking, but it seemed to me that the wooden flooring here were a deeper brown than any other part of the floor. It even had a red tinge. Then again, the colour of wood varied greatly throughout the palace…

We exited to take in the ruins of Holyrood Abbey which sadly were less brilliant beneath clouds than the blue skies of two years ago - and they were filled with summer tourists. The gardens were lovely. I managed to buy another card holder from the gift shop, though not the same as my beloved one which is currently falling apart.

A statue passes the time in the gardens.

After using the bathrooms, we stood beneath the crags, planning our ascent. Thankfully, my must-see destination (the ruins of St Anthony’s Chapel) was easily visible and much lower. It was still an uphill climb, though we abandoned the more adventurous route which was fenced off. Rocks warred with the gravel and dirt that cut a path through green, green grass.

There wasn’t much left of the chapel - it mustn’t have been big to start with. Though once repaired in the early 15th century, it is certainly beyond repair now. It was sheltered beneath a wall of rock though my fiancé said it would be easy to attack from there. I thought it was a good place for a chapel - close to God, but not too close. A beautiful spot with a more modern loch beneath it.

You too can fit the castle, the chapel ruins and Calton Hill in just one photo!

We followed a stretch of grass that had been walked on too many times to grow enough of anything else. This led us up to the top of the crags where we decided that too much effort was required to reach Arthur’s Seat (the tiny pinpricks up there made it look crowded!). We did not go too far, but enough to see the castle (usually so large, but now so miniature and distant - had we really walked so far?).

We retreated back down, picking our way over rocks and dirt, to Holyrood Palace. We waltzed up the Royal Mile, buying souvenirs, and then disaster struck. On a side road towards our hotel - MAISON DE MOGGY. This was a shop where you could go in and pay to pat cats! Beautiful kitties were separated from me by glass.

“Please, please!” I cried but my fiancé reminded me that we needed lunch.

Once our bags deposited, we enjoyed a meal at the Hard Rock Cafe using a shortcut through the Princes Street Gardens. The food there is better than the ones in Sydney and New York!! Home again. Dinner in. Thank goodness.

Tomorrow - Glasgow!

Day 18: Edinburgh

A taxi was called for us as we exited the hotel. The driver, a white-haired gent, zipped in and out of the bus lane, squeezing past everyone else and merging back into the other lanes when he felt like it. Despite his frantic driving, it took us longer than I expected to reach Kings Cross Station.

While we waited for our platform to be announced, we alternated between eyeing the boards (we had to get to our first class carriage first so we could fit our luggage in) and smiling at the queue of fans trying to get their shot with the special Platform 9 3/4 wall. It was conveniently positioned beside a Harry Potter shop that had its own queue! Happily, the change machine wasn’t working near the 30p toilets so they waved us through for free.

Platform 1, the board suddenly said. We raced over, but the crowd was coming! Carriage M - Carriage M - it seemed so far away. We flung ourselves in after our heavy bags - I pulled my right calf muscle in the process - and success! Both giant suitcases stowed in the luggage racks.

Middle-aged middle class women complained that there was no room for their little hand luggage bags. Sniffing at their misfortune, they instead managed to fit them perfectly into the shelves running over our heads. Bloody menaces, glad we beat them!

We had a comfy two-seater opposite two others, a table between us. Celebrating that the tickets on our companions’ seats announced we’d be alone until York, we relaxed (after a brief freak out over misplacing our tickets) with the free wifi and friendly service.

Sandwiches, snacks, tea, coffee - constantly at our command. I chatted to my mum and brother in Australia on Facebook, whiling away the time. I enjoyed seeing the water and castle ruins at Berwick-upon-Tweed. I also squinted to vaguely see the Holy Island. When I saw the Salisbury Crags rise in the distance, I knew we were near.

Edinburgh greeted us with a constant dusting of rain and chills. Was this summer? There was only one lift per platform - the staff member assisting a woman in a wheelchair bemoaned this. There were huge clusters of people with luggage stampeding in slow motion into the cramped space as it appeared. The staff member also despaired that no one using the lift had any presence of mind to hit the “up” button until she called into the lift for them to do it.

A taxi ended our journey as we began it. 5 pounds got us to our one-bedroom apartment with a kitchen and washer/dryer. Each apartment here has its own router and all have the same password so my MacBook jumped onto the apartment I stayed in 2 years ago! I quickly rectified that.

We got groceries from Sainsbury’s then hit a second-hand bookshop before heading down to that expensive cashmere shop just before closing time. I adorned myself in a purple jumper, a purple scarf (with Swarovski crystals!) and purple gloves. The saleswoman very easily sussed out my purple obsession. She seemed surprised at how quickly I chose my purchases.

Little did she know, I had been there 2 years before, sure I could never even afford a scarf, let alone something else. My fiancé makes me feel like Cinderella. The saleswoman helped us figure out how to claim the tax back and sent us on our way before shutting up shop. I swung my shopping bag, beaming, and my fiancé enjoyed my happiness.

An Internet friend said I should think of my cashmere as an “international hug”. It certainly feels nice…!

Dinner was had. Internet still a bit shitty but is nationwide problem.

Damn I’ve missed you, Edinburgh.

Day 17: Devon

I began the day at 6am with Cocoa Pops then we navigated nearby roadworks (which stymied an ambulance driven by a harried-looking woman) to arrive at London Paddington Overground Station. The seats were less cold than I remembered but the toilets were still staffed by watchful eyes, ensuring you paid the 30p required for relieving yourself.

We boarded what we thought was carriage D in our train to Devon, where my Internet friend Jon was awaiting us (or would be, at 10am). We sat in the right seat numbers, surrounded by noisy passengers including business people who were showing their laptops to their colleagues sitting across the passageway. One man was bashing the keys of his compter in a loud and rhythmic fashion.

It took a long trip to find a free bathroom for me to realise our reserved seats were in the genuine D carriage - relatively empty, quiet and with better wifi speeds. Seats that should have been filled were left bare - it seemed others had fallen into the same trap. We moved immediately, enjoying the lower bathroom-to-passenger ratio.

It was a long trip, but a picturesque one. I made sure not to miss the gorgeous water alongside the track on the way to our stop. Luckily no storms rose to batter our train.

Once the train pulled into our station, the passenger at the door did not seem to know how to open it so I, having read the instructions, put the window down and opened it using the handle on the outside. Then we were loaded into Jon’s hatchback, heading for the cliff tip railway at Oddicombe Downs. The rail was restored from its early 20th century self and provided a quick way down the hill to the beach below. The car stopped before finishing its journey, inching the rest of the way home before we were allowed off.

How quaint.

Oddicombe Downs was full of people eating, sitting on rented beach chairs and shopping at a kitschy stall that supplied buckets and rakes. There was even a trampoline vendor. There was no sand, only smooth small rocks underfoot. Returned to the top of the cliff.

It's worth going down to Oddicombe Downs. :D

We were early enough for seats at a decent tea place, so imbibed there while we waited for the nearby fish and chips shop to open. Ah, God, it was good to have loose leaf tea again.

We killed time walking along the cliff and laughing at the misfortune of the owner who bought a house on the Internet that fell from a red cliff down to Oddicombe Downs. A few spots of rain got us. They kept coming. Then it was really raining as we sprinted across the road to the restaurant section of the fish and chips place.

Torquay is just so photogenic :)

We sheltered there, among a mishmash of old stones, ancient wooden beams, bright newer wood slats and plaster. Our placemats showed cartoonish scenes of the area, though the Oddicombe Downs scene seemed to insist that in summer people wore bikinis there - we had seen none earlier!

My fiancé made chip buddies (chips on bread). Very British! The rain eased by now.

Next to Paignton Pier, famous for hosting Monty Python. The seafront was closed to cars, the lawns taken up with many fun rides - and foreign students enjoying the sun and fun of a beachside town. We waltzed down the pier, eating 99s and dodging the frantic gamblers vying for toys and tickets in the long, packed arcade. Jon seemed amused by the netted trampoline which was on the end of the pier. Perhaps a daring kid with too much bounce could end up in the water!

Popular with Pythons, children, gamblers and ice cream addicts. ;)

It was a nice view. We continued our walk back on land, avoiding the sandy beach and squalling baby seagulls chasing their mothers for food. The babies had completely different markings than grown-up ones - and black beaks instead of orange! At least the dusty feet were the same.

After dodging the amusement rides to get back to the car, we were off to Totnes Castle which sounded exciting, despite being only ruins. We spotted it on the hill. Excitement grew. Then we hit slow traffic squeezing through a roundabout. Undeterred, Jon followed the signs to the historic town centre. The steep road narrowed alarmingly and was thankfully one way, but the walls still closed in. Jon missed the turn off and we were spewed out onto a main road full of fleshy bodies compared to our steel one.

Jon had hit his tyre on the edge of the narrow road so I was panicked, freaking out, trapped in Totnes. Jon left the scary place only to re-enter at the bottom of the hill, beginning to reascend. The narrow street expunged us into a public parking area and we decided it would be best to walk, rather than risk the car arriving at a castle without parking spaces, making us circle back again.

The parking lot was small and on a steep gradient, but Jon persevered despite their being no spots - then we stopped dead. Blocking our passage was a car that appeared to be reversing - but it wasn’t. It was devoid of a driver and looked as though it had rolled out of its spot, abandoned by a handbrake. Nearby, people idly chatted at their cars, apparently unfazed.

By now I was in hysterics and laughed so much my eyes grew damp. I readily agreed to Jon taking us somewhere else, too relieved to be escaping the Torture of Totnes to be disappointed. What a nightmare. But a funny one. Totnes became a running joke that afternoon. I said solemnly, “The first rule about Totnes is you don’t talk about Totnes.”

“The second rule about Totnes,” Jon added, “is you definitely don’t want to talk about it and you don’t go there either.”

Jon took us to Berry Pomeroy Castle, an old friend of mine. The narrow road was bordered by shrubbery and passing places. The parking lot was a squeeze…but a blue sky reigned, delivering unto me a much better backdrop for my photos than last time!

We meet again, Berry Pomery...

The narrow steps in the towers were not slippery deathtraps, so unfortunately the screaming children outside were side. The gun slits make it easy to aim for them…

While my fiancé and I used the facilities, Jon was approached by the creepy ticket seller who’d had a sword hanging up behind him at the register. The man said sometimes the children made him wish he had a machine gun. Jon was perturbed by this. As we drove away, for the Argus Filch character (he resembled him in face and temperament) watched the children on the grass with narrowed eyes.

Next to Sainsbury’s for dinner for the train. We talked animatedly in the park there before heading over to “The Railway” pub at the station, drinking and chatting. Then it was time to depart from Platform 3.

I dozed on the way to London Paddington while my fiancé used his phone to become Facebook friends with Jon. There was an annoying couple playing pass-the-time games - the woman had a stupid voice and insulted her boyfriend a lot.

Remembered to message Jon when we were safely back at hotel.

Day 16: Dover

We began our day with cheap cereal in our room (hurray for the bar fridge that kept our milk cold) then walked/tubed to St Pancras International, bound for Dover Priory! We made our way to platform 12 when it was announced on the board. Comfy seats awaited us - and interesting passengers. One German backpacker hogged the train toilet for ages - he’d been getting changed while I danced outside!

Our train tore through tunnels and raced across the countryside - it was a fast train, zipping us down to Dover in just over an hour. I knew we were getting close when green fields were replaced by large white chalky boulders. The English Channel stretched away to our right.

The weather was annoying when we arrived - hot sun interspersed with chilly winds, neither a caress or a gust. We bravely ignored the taxi rank and left the ugly white station building, trekking over roads, up slopes and climbing surprisingly few steps before we found ourselves at Dover Castle.

It's not that far...

At the pedestrian ticket booth we were given blue wristbands before we continued our ascent to the castle, home (at least for today) to rampant school children, pre-schoolers, old folks filling the “land train”, German tourists and us.

We made a beeline for the Roman lighthouse (the oldest building in the grounds) and the Saxon church. Both sat in a defensive bowl of grass. The lighthouse bore the red bricks common to Roman buildings - I touched them, impressed that the the building still stood, deep within fortifications that have been fucked with multiple times in the past 1800-2000 years.

I hope the lighthouse and church are good friends or this could be awkward.

The church was rebuilt in medieval times, though once you stepped inside the 1000 AD Saxon stonework was visible, including a walled entrance and an archway. The church is still consecrated today.

I thought the views from here were great - I found better ones on top of the Great Tower.

The tower is large and impressive, protected by its walls, gates and towers (which effectively keep the sheep out; they wander around the moat, eating the grass on the steep earthworks). Inside the tower I found the stairs to be wider than in other castles of the day.

The Great Keep

There were so many rooms. The Great Hall and apartments were gaudily furnished and as we walked along the galley above the hall, my fiancé noted that it was a good place to kill a king from. That lack of security brought to you by the need of light! The passage was walled off later.

We finally staggered to the top of the keep. Wowsa. The sky and water were so blue. The docks were gorgeous. We could see France in the distance. The tower has a commanding view of Dover. To the west was a fort built on an opposing rise, just in case enemies got it into their heads to shell the castle from there. After all, when the castle was first built, a trebuchet would not have reached that distance. Sadly, we could not see the White Cliffs from there, but we both had already enjoyed them; me at age 24, my fiancé at 10.

Dat view.

Next we snubbed the WWII “secret” tunnels for the medieval ones. Two dead-ended (collapsed and sealed) but one was reused in the 18th century. Another area had canons overlooking the moat - and the sheep nibbling within it. The tunnels was quite steep in some areas, dark and damp too. Very glad to escape.

After in the eatery there, then descended into Dover for my fiancé’s curry with chips. Full of chocolate, I only had some chips.

We stumbled across the Roman Painted House on our way back to the station. Hidden near an alley and behind strewn cars, we found Roman ruins with better preserved plaster paintings than even in Lullingstone Villa. 2 pounds entry - what a steal! We circled the excavation. It was awesome - we could even go onto the basement level to get a feel for how tall the walls were.

The house once served as an inn for travellers from mainland Europe - Dover is still used for this so nothing much has changed! But why was the house so preserved, despite its age? In 270 AD, the Romans bowed to pressure and built a fort, mowing right through the house and leaving part of it buried beneath rubble. The thick, chunky wall cut right through it at an angle.

I wondered why this fort wasn’t on the hill, like the later castle, but my fiancé rightly pointed out that the siege tactics were different; no trebuchets to take advantage of height. The fort was instead built at the best site for landing. Dover’s defences have changed to suit the times.

We returned to the station after being told by a disembodied voice to be sure to mention the site to our family and friends. The 1:48 to London arrived and conveyed us back past water and chalky cliffs. Once at St Pancras, my fiancé bought jelly babies for his mother - she likes the floury ones!?

For dinner, we went to Southwark. I was so pleased to be back there, but the journey on the tube in peak hour almost drove me nuts. It was so crowded that we stopped at two stations without picking anyone up (Jubilee Line - which has that roller coaster feel). It was so hot in there it was like the heating had been turned up.

I finally arrived, feeling nostalgic - but the area was crowded with afterwork diners and drinkers. As we got to Clink Street, I saw with dismay that the cafe I had loved so much on my previous visit had been turned into something else. Luckily, our destination (the Gourmet Burger Kitchen) was still there, its entry door stashed against the wall.

We were seated between two couples - one pair looked like they were in the early stages and if they were not going to the bathroom they were checking their phones. Probably not going to get serious. We walked along the Thames leisurely, bound for Westminster Station. The sun struck our eyes and the crowds struck our shoulders, but it was lovely. Romantic, even when interspersed with buskers (one was even a gymnast!).

Dat other view.

“Did you ever think you’d be back here, this time with your fiancé?” my future husband asked me as we walked.

“No,” I answered with a smile, feeling lucky to be so loved.