I have managed to land in the middle of a weather catastrophe in Northern England.
I have met two exceptional people who made that catastrophe dramatically easier.
I have made a decision about the next few months of my life and it is thrilling and daunting.
What a world.
I hit my head on a cupboard door and at first it hurt and I felt funny, but now I feel giddy. I don’t know what this means, but it does seem significant.
Also, over the last few months I’ve been working my way through Middlemarch (George Eliot) and enjoying the slow reading process. It’s weird for me, because usually I’m a plow-through, addict type reader, but this might be a sign of maturation or decreased attention span. Hard to say really. Though I never used to be able to write things in my head before and now I can do haiku if I’m running without music, so I prefer to think of these developments as maturation.
New topic: the post below this one includes photos taken during a 12-hour drive that GT and I embarked upon last Monday in hopes of hitting all major Scottish tourist centers on the mainland in a single day. While I’m not sure that we were entirely successful, we did see a lot. Places where we stopped and walked included:
the Falkirk Wheel (weirdest non-invention piece of construction on the planet — it’s just a big non-useable lock to model a historic lock that actually didn’t exist between canals in that area — it was complete in 2002 — who knows what anyone was thinking),
Stirling Castle (cool, but we didn’t pay the 13 pounds to go in, so I don’t know much about that),
Loch Lomond & the Trossachs (fantastic — see pictures of the swan in the previous post),
a B&B somewhere between Loch Lomond and Loch Ness (we didn’t make it to Loch Ness because we would probably have died somewhere along the winding roads of the Scottish highlands — totally not a plus).
During the course of this trip I discovered that I can talk a lot and pretty much without major pauses over a twelve-hour period. I also realized that I am going to miss GT so much that it’s a little hard to contemplate without triggering the telltale throat knot. It’s ok though. He let me take a lot of pictures and this has been a good year. I’m lucky.
Another picture, to illustrate the essence of the ramble:
Scotland, as is
Or two:
In Leven… definitely something
Or three:
GT treated me
Ok, last one:
the kiss
on the road again
yellow
The Falkirk Wheel
Stirling Castle
garden graves
the tree
Loch Lomond swan
not so bashful
A. When going for a walk on the beach, consider wearing protective eyewear.
B. Try to travel so much that you forget what your bed feels like — maybe so much that you don’t really have a “my bed.”
C. Learn at least one weird bird call.
D. Write thank you notes.
E. When confronted with an opportunity to do something strange/interesting/unusual in public, do it.
The Falkirk Wheel, aka Something Super Weird the Scots Did in Public
I can only do travel as adventure.
Today, intending to catch a train from St Andrews to Edinburgh at 1:46, I arrived at Leuchars in the Bobby Mobile and unloaded my overpacking for the weekend. I needed my phone right away because picking up your train ticket requires a confirmation code but of course, I couldn’t find it. I was sure I’d brought it with me and I was ten minutes early, so I dropped everything in the parking lot and searched all the various pockets frantically. Then I stopped a passing car and asked the driver to call my phone and I sat on the ground clutching my bags and hoping to feel a vibration, but alas, everything was still.
At this point, I considered crying, but it really seemed like a useless proposition and so I ran across the tracks (up the stairs, bags bouncing, down the stairs, rail in hand) and continued to be generally frantic. I explained the situation to the ticket man, who was nice enough to inform me that I could catch the next train at 2:29, but I would get into Edinburgh at 3:27, which is notable because my train to London would be leaving that station three minutes later, at 3:30. I was already disheartened and so when he explained that I could get the train to London at 4:30, if I paid him forty pounds, I decided to do that. He also explained that if I happened to catch the 3:30, I might get a refund. So I thought to myself, I’m going to do that, and I smiled a lot before running out of the ticket office, back over the tracks (you guessed it, bags bouncing) and up to three cab drivers who were standing together leisurely.
Me: Excuse me, would one of you do me a really strange favor.
Scottish taxi driver: Go on then.
Me: I think I’ve dropped my phone somewhere in my car and if I’m wrong I have to drive back to St Andrews. But would you call me so that I can go listen for it in my car?
Scottish taxi driver: Alright then.
Me: Thank you do much. (gushing)
Scottish taxi driver: What’s your number then?
I give him my number and ask him to give me just a minute. He looks skeptical but willing and I sprint across the parking lot, drop my things in the car and wave at him to start calling. He does, and I hear a faint vibrating, which nearly inspires me to tears of joy. After that he had to call me six more times before I discovered my phone sitting happily under the passenger seat, as pleased as could be with this little trick it had pulled.
I gathered my things and went back again, chatting with the man who sells food on the platform. He to,d me I was beautiful, which was weird, but it’s possible he just wanted me to buy coffee with my egg and cheese sandwich.
Having determined quickly that I was not the only one making the London connection, I managed to find a seat in the first car next to a man with slightly yellowed eyes, dyed black hair and really awful breath. Surprisingly, I didn’t notice the breath until after I’d offered him a piece of gum and I’m glad because I probably would’ve been too embarrassed to offer had I noticed and e offering prompted a deeply hilarious conversation that I enjoyed thoroughly despite having some difficulty following it precisely.
He began by telling me that he used to work at Canary Wharf in London, which he explained was wonderful because just outside there was a Mark’s & Spencer. Full stop. He also said he worked in a skyscraper and that he could see Buckingham Palace and it was all really incredible.
About New York he said: it’s not London, but it’s a grand city. Just grand. I visited some museums, you know. Museums aren’t really my thing, and I don’t care much for modern art but the MOMA, wow, the MOMA is really an awesome museum.
When he used the word awesome, it was like you could hear the root. He was actually meaning awe inspiring.
About DC he said: I was there because my eldest daughter was presenting a paper and I did t expect to like it much, but up close it’s just incredible. The buildings – the space – everything is so big. And you see it on the tele, but it’s not the same until you’re there.
About a place called Durham in Edinburgh he said: I used to walk from up by the Durham castle and cathedral and you can look down on your left there and see these hills. They’re called the red hills because when the English and Scottish armies fought there, the English were up here (he gestured with his hand) and the Scottish army was fighting uphill and so they’re called the red hills for all the blood.
About the Grace Kelly museum he visited he said: It’s not really my thing, you know, ladies’ dresses and shoes and all that, but I was absolutely amazed. I really yank Grace Kelly is your version of Princess Di. Just in terms of size and hair and all that. And for seven quid – couldn’t pass it up! I almost went again, would you believe?
About his daughter who may be the youngest person ever to graduate with a law degree from Cambridge he said: Cost me 20,000 pounds, but it was worth it. Oh yeah, she’s worked for three of the five biggest firms in London. And she doesn’t tell me much – you know lawyers don’t talk much about cases – but I know she met that woman off The Apprentice because she told me once that this woman is actually really attractive in person. (chuckles). My daughter said she was ‘poorly advised.’
Later, he pointed out the road bridge to Edinburgh and an oil tanker on the water. He said he works in Aberdeen now, but that trying to make the London connection never worked for him – he said they wouldn’t open the doors even if you made it. This made me nervous, but I tried not to become excessively concerned.
He got off the stop before mine, gathered his things and wished me well. What a man.
Then I joined what appeared to be a rugby team standing at the front door of the train and challenged them to a race to platform 2, which had just been announced as the platform for the train to London. As soon as the door opened, we were off to the races. Literally. We sprinted to the automatic ticket gates, exited and rounded a corner to the left only to discover that platform 2 was, in fact, empty. Someone checked a tv monitor and it turned out we were meant to go to platform 8, which required a number of up and down flights of stairs and a lot more running.
So that was fun.
But then I made it, and that was really fun.
And now I am sitting in my assigned seat in the quiet coach, writing this account for you mostly because the man on the first train needed to be quoted.
I am a happy Lime!
