Haste ye back

We recently returned from a fantastic holiday around Scotland. Like its neighbour in subjugation, Ireland, the country is beautiful and its people are charming. I highly recommend a Scottish voyage for those who have not made one yet!

Roggles arrived in Oxford on the heels of my last exam. Visits to the Turf Tavern and the Trout Inn were obligatory. The imbibing that began there continued on the lengthy but picturesque train journey from the west midlands through Birmingham, Lancashire and on to Edinburgh. The new phrase "total beer mode" was introduced and enjoyed by all, including the stranger sitting next to us. In Edinburgh the drinking (and eating) continued, although we did find time to explore the maze of ancient streets and ascending alleyways. We treated ourselves to a grand view of the city by hiking up the Salisbury Crags and onward to Arthur's Seat. That Arthur must have been fond of high winds - it was hard to stand straight up there.

A Blustery Gned and Roggles

In Edinburgh the local Scots warned us that driving our rental car to St Andrews (where we intended to enjoy a day of the British Open) was utter folly. "It will be an almighty GRIDLOCK, lads and lassie! I swear on my father's kilt, ye do' nae want to try it!!" We scoffed at this warning, as well as similar radio reports heard throughout the Kingdom of Fife, and we were right to do so. The traffic getting into St Andrews on Friday was very tame - no worse than the parking lot of the Broadway IGA/Liquor Store on a Friday night. Clearly these Scots have never encountered the eternal snaking of cars that one sees leading to the BC Ferries on a Thanksgiving weekend, at a Dave Matthews concert in the Gorge, or (worst of all) passing by Abbotsford during the accursed airshow from hell!

We picked a great day to watch the Open. The sun was shining, Tiger was lighting up the course, and Jack Nicklaus was playing his (alleged) final professional round. We wandered the Old Course and saw all the stars: Woods, Singh, Els, Mickelson, Weir, Norman, and so on. Unfortunately we did not see Jack's final walk down the 18th, since (a) the crowds were gigantic, and (b) we were off buying icecream and drinks (total beer mode?). I would post photos from the event but we, being respectful and law-abiding types, adhered to the prohibition on bringing any kind of camera on to the course. Other losers were neither respectful to the golfers nor law-abiding. Bad karma will revisit you, be warned.

In the days after St Andrews we travelled into northeastern areas around the Cairngorm Mountains. We happened upon a highland games festival in Tomintoul (complete with a challenging caber toss and delicious venison burgers), toured the Glenfiddich distillery and an ancient castle in Dufftown, ate some questionable haggis, then carried on to Inverness and the shores of Loch Ness. Roggles had to depart for Glasgow to discuss movie soundtrack plans with Belle & Sebastian, while Ms Muppet and I turned north to visit the Isle of Skye. I must say that this is where the Scotland of romantic legend comes alive. What an amazing place - we explored clan castles, wandered fishing villages, and took in a local ceilidh. Those Scots know how to sing! Reluctant to leave the epic beauty of Skye behind, we ventured south to Loch Lomond, Stirling Castle, and the fields where Rob Roy and William Wallace once trod.

The history... the beauty... what a wonderful country. We shall have to return someday, going further afield to see the Outer Hebrides and the Shetland Islands. You should go too!

Exiting the Tomintoul Highland Games

By the way, we returned to rather happy news in Oxford. The exam results came out and I was pleased to discover that I was "adjudged worthy of a Distinction by the BCL Examiners". In other words, I attained the illustrious "first class". Cool.