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My birthday desperation came to an end. No balloon animal cufflinks for my husband, oh no! Instead he suggested I repeat an old birthday custom; I would pick somewhere, arrange everything, not tell him anything about it except what to pack. Then, when we were ready to go, I'd just punch the postcode into the satnav and away we would drive. I chose Pitlochry.
Pitlochry is one of those parts of the highlands loved by Queen Victoria. It's near Blair Atholl, Dunkeld, Aberfeldy, Killiecrankie. We were staying in a place which had all the hallmarks of a proper highland hotel; antler chandeliers, stag wallpaper, tartan curtains and no corner bereft of a stuffed animal or two. Getting there required driving past R's place of work. I tried to tell him we were having a sleepover in his office but he assures me he was never convinced by this.
A rainbow came down right next to the road we travelled, so clearly we were close to treasure! It warmed my heart, which is just as well, cos by the time we were safely ensconced in the 17th century inn with its welcoming pints and hard working log burner, snow was pelting down through the twilight. When we woke, the mountains were dusted in pretty warning.
We walked, found the delicate waterfall called rather prosaically 'the black spout', then wandered through the town spending an awful lot of money until it was time for our Blair Atholl distillery tour. We were introduced to great whiskies and pleasant company until it was time to go back and stuff our faces again. I am still digesting.
As ever my problem with Scotland is that I am not quite opening the door in the wall. I am always just passing by and I will always be back soon and then I will -
But being dragged away is what I do. There will come a time to find the magic that's beckoning, maybe visit Schiehallion and other fairy domains. But with poetic sense, which is the only sense that works true re Faerie, there's always that caveat that one day the sojourner does not return.
As it is, I learned a few interesting bits of folkore, and may record them later.
But for now, it's enough that he had a wonderful birthday. I see him smile and I smile too.
Pitlochry is one of those parts of the highlands loved by Queen Victoria. It's near Blair Atholl, Dunkeld, Aberfeldy, Killiecrankie. We were staying in a place which had all the hallmarks of a proper highland hotel; antler chandeliers, stag wallpaper, tartan curtains and no corner bereft of a stuffed animal or two. Getting there required driving past R's place of work. I tried to tell him we were having a sleepover in his office but he assures me he was never convinced by this.
A rainbow came down right next to the road we travelled, so clearly we were close to treasure! It warmed my heart, which is just as well, cos by the time we were safely ensconced in the 17th century inn with its welcoming pints and hard working log burner, snow was pelting down through the twilight. When we woke, the mountains were dusted in pretty warning.
We walked, found the delicate waterfall called rather prosaically 'the black spout', then wandered through the town spending an awful lot of money until it was time for our Blair Atholl distillery tour. We were introduced to great whiskies and pleasant company until it was time to go back and stuff our faces again. I am still digesting.
As ever my problem with Scotland is that I am not quite opening the door in the wall. I am always just passing by and I will always be back soon and then I will -
But being dragged away is what I do. There will come a time to find the magic that's beckoning, maybe visit Schiehallion and other fairy domains. But with poetic sense, which is the only sense that works true re Faerie, there's always that caveat that one day the sojourner does not return.
As it is, I learned a few interesting bits of folkore, and may record them later.
But for now, it's enough that he had a wonderful birthday. I see him smile and I smile too.
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