Some Elsewheres
Apr. 29th, 2019 03:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smokingbootI enjoyed Edinburgh, then I enjoyed North Berwich and Dunbar,and then I enjoyed Stirling, a rather more castle-y castle than that of Auld Reekie. Obliged to my 5th Great Grandmother for bestowing me means with which to maintain my decency. No sooner had I walked under the portcullis than a button pinged off my jeans almost sending my trousers down south, when fortunately the nearby gift shop presented us with brooch options. There were many clans represented but it would have felt impolite using a clan name without claim... Fortunately the MacPherson version had one of the strongest pins, embellished with a fierce looking moggy and the motto 'Touch not the cat bot a glove.' Thus armed, I managed to wander round without terrifying other visitors or skewering myself.
Lots of very interesting stuff about Scottish Royal History, which tends to make English Royal History look staid. I've never been enchanted by Mary Queen of Scots, and look wryly on attempts to make her any kind of heroine, never mind some reconstructed 21st century Woman of Freedom and Power. Romantics have always loved her because of her disastrous dalliances and her considered beauty for the time (though her mother was the real fox) but to choose a husband so badly does not speak of an exceptional mind nor of a real understanding of one's realm. And poor Rizzio! To have one's dearest servant call out for aid and not be able to deliver it! Once the glamour of the blood royal was stripped and her powerlessness revealed,she should have returned to France if she could. In that moment, she was Queen no longer beyond the name, nor ever would be again. Having said that, she was very probably a rape victim as well as endlessly betrayed by her nobles who seem to have been a thorough blight upon her, each other, their clans and their country.
Yes, we enjoyed Stirling immensely. But nothing could compare to Loch Fyne, a place which my husband chose for peace, quiet and beauty, not knowing that this really was the old stomping ground of the clan from whom I claim easiest descent. I was in MacLachlan territory; more important, it was stunningly beautiful, with the loch at the end of our garden, and the company of a fine dog, 30 chickens, a most satisfied cockerel and 4 worried looking ducks. The castles were nearby, the solitude was perfect, the restaurant fab if a little odd (I think I will dedicate a separate post to it) and my only regret was not continuing westward, to Tignabruich where my father's ashes were scattered, to Bute and Arran and beyond.
Then there was a dinner with mates down in Woolwich, marked by James Bond themed cocktails including the famous Vesper: (3 ounces Gordons gin,1 ounce vodka, 1/2 ounce dry vermouth (Lillet) Garnish: lemon peel) As cocktails go it was very elegant, but you had to treat it with respect. Once it was yours, you were stuck with it for the night. Or maybe I'm just a lightweight.
Then there was the boogie in Brum, started by some food at Nocturnal Animals. NA just wasn't all that...I mean, OK-ish food, but thoroughly overpriced. Plus the place had nightmare acoustics. Pity, cool name. Still, the bash afterwards (does anyone go to discos anymore?) was excellent, a place of christening for my 4 inch heels. Even now my toes have concertina folds.
Tomorrow there is Edinburgh again, I fly back the next day, then very soon it's New York. It's all happening and it's all grand, but I really need some sleep.
Lots of very interesting stuff about Scottish Royal History, which tends to make English Royal History look staid. I've never been enchanted by Mary Queen of Scots, and look wryly on attempts to make her any kind of heroine, never mind some reconstructed 21st century Woman of Freedom and Power. Romantics have always loved her because of her disastrous dalliances and her considered beauty for the time (though her mother was the real fox) but to choose a husband so badly does not speak of an exceptional mind nor of a real understanding of one's realm. And poor Rizzio! To have one's dearest servant call out for aid and not be able to deliver it! Once the glamour of the blood royal was stripped and her powerlessness revealed,she should have returned to France if she could. In that moment, she was Queen no longer beyond the name, nor ever would be again. Having said that, she was very probably a rape victim as well as endlessly betrayed by her nobles who seem to have been a thorough blight upon her, each other, their clans and their country.
Yes, we enjoyed Stirling immensely. But nothing could compare to Loch Fyne, a place which my husband chose for peace, quiet and beauty, not knowing that this really was the old stomping ground of the clan from whom I claim easiest descent. I was in MacLachlan territory; more important, it was stunningly beautiful, with the loch at the end of our garden, and the company of a fine dog, 30 chickens, a most satisfied cockerel and 4 worried looking ducks. The castles were nearby, the solitude was perfect, the restaurant fab if a little odd (I think I will dedicate a separate post to it) and my only regret was not continuing westward, to Tignabruich where my father's ashes were scattered, to Bute and Arran and beyond.
Then there was a dinner with mates down in Woolwich, marked by James Bond themed cocktails including the famous Vesper: (3 ounces Gordons gin,1 ounce vodka, 1/2 ounce dry vermouth (Lillet) Garnish: lemon peel) As cocktails go it was very elegant, but you had to treat it with respect. Once it was yours, you were stuck with it for the night. Or maybe I'm just a lightweight.
Then there was the boogie in Brum, started by some food at Nocturnal Animals. NA just wasn't all that...I mean, OK-ish food, but thoroughly overpriced. Plus the place had nightmare acoustics. Pity, cool name. Still, the bash afterwards (does anyone go to discos anymore?) was excellent, a place of christening for my 4 inch heels. Even now my toes have concertina folds.
Tomorrow there is Edinburgh again, I fly back the next day, then very soon it's New York. It's all happening and it's all grand, but I really need some sleep.
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no subject
Date: 2019-04-29 03:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-05-01 12:04 pm (UTC)I think I once posted an oil portrait of his mummified head.
The head itself has since disappeared.
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Date: 2019-05-03 07:02 am (UTC)Bothwell's a strange one, what with the accusations of his assault on Mary of Scots, etc. To me, he always seemed like a chancer who just ran out of luck and friends, but even so, his end was by all accounts horrible. Whatever he was, his captors made themselves far worse.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-03 02:27 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-05-05 10:45 am (UTC)Thank you - I think :-)
Having said that he was no looker in real life... Maybe this isn't such a downgrade.
no subject
Date: 2019-05-05 01:50 pm (UTC)