visit the "Auld Country" .....

It was a dark and stormy night.... when we all finally arrived at my

family home, "Tigh Na Mas Mor", which roughly translated means House of

the Big Bums....well all those years of Scottish pastries do go

straight to the thighs! Mum was waiting to warm us up with huge,

steaming bowls of "stovies" and a few drams and helped us change out of

our wet clothes.

That night in the Great Hall we held a ceilidh, everyone got in the

party spirit and did a "turn" ....either singing or reciting, so it was

just as well that Dad liberally laced our glasses with Uisge Bha (and a

spot of Green Ginger for those who couldn't take it as God intended it)

which calmed our stage fright. All except Gin who drank Barr's Irn Bru

(made from girders) and so was stone cold sober when she got up to sing.

Luckily we were all pretty sozzled so she sounded darn good! Tina gave a

rousing rendition of "To a Haggis" which she'd learned specially for the

occasion ...."Fair fa your honest sonsy face, Great chieftain o' the

puddin' race .... and that's the last haggis I want to hear about this

entire weekend!!!" she stated unequivocally. Spoilsport!!

Thankfully MG arrived at this point and after changing out of his wet

things, it was now drizzling quite gently, he was presented with a

welcoming quaich of the "cratur". Thus fortified he threw himself whole-

heartedly into teaching us The Eightsome Reel and Broon's Reel and as we

were already reeling from the effects of the whisky we did pretty well

(it also explains the whole genesis of Scottish Country Dancing....too

much whisky!)

Theresa, Illeanna and Alarah kept eyeing the burly, kilted,

highlanders, Hamish, Angus and....Duncan McCleod with the intention, I

fear, of finding out what a Scotsman actually wears under the kilt.

Illeanna had to be restrained from continuously dropping things and

bending down to pick them up. Now, while I don't know how their

curiosity was satisfied, Theresa did wear a knowing smirk for the rest

of the weekend.

The following day we headed NW over Rannoch Moor where we saw several

examples of the most populous species in Scotland ....the sheep. The

Scots are a strange, altruistic and ovine fixated race ....not content

with clearing the Highlands of people to make room for the woolly

creatures we already have, we've now started to clone them ....there

must've been a wee bit space left, plenty room for a few more Falklands

War Brides!

On we went, the wind had changed direction and so the rain was now

coming down in sheets, so it looked quite ominous and desolate as we

threaded our way through Glencoe, home of the famous massacre*. I did

try to talk Sam into climbing Buchaille Etive Mhor (The Great Shepherd

of Etive) but she said she wasn't going o climb anything she couldn't

pronounce ( when she did try it sounded like a lot of throat clearing

and spitting....which was actually pretty accurate!)

This was where we talked MG into

donning "Hairy Highlander" garb and

posing by "The Three Sisters" of

Glencoe and with Bidean Nam Bian

behind him and a Class I Pictish

standing stone to his right I

snapped the attached picture 

.....even though he was grousing

that the pelts on his outfit

weighed about 50lbs....well,

 the rain, which was now just a

Vicki was curious about the symbols on the stones and wanted to know what

they meant. Until recently their meanings were lost in the mists of time but

the Scottish Urban Archaeological Team had a breakthrough and deciphered 

them and this one reads Par 4, 550 yards!!! This tends to give credence to 

the claim that golf is a lot older than we'd all thought and explains why 

there are so many Pictish Standing Stones clustered around St. Andrews, home

of The royal and Ancient golf course.

Chris who'd seen "Braveheart" one too many times, had painted her

face blue for the occasion and was looking for other blue faced

warriors. Alas, she saw only one rather large nosed, 5,000 year old

immortal looking like death on a horse who had no right being in this

story ....well HE'S really Welsh, you know!

We continued on through the fair Scottish weather (ok, so it was still

raining) to the village of Glencoe which is dominated by the "Pap of

Glencoe" a lovely conical peak....I dunno, there are a lot of mountains

in Scotland that are called the Pap of this or that....or the Muckle Pap

or the Meikle Pap (big and small respectively) and either the locals

were having a bit of fun with the English cartographers or you can tell

what Scotsmen are thinking about...apart from sheep that is! Pap

means....um ....to put it nicely ....Boob! Anyway, on the lower slopes

of "The Pap" is the Lochan Trail, a piece of woodlands set aside by a

19th century Laird as a gift to his "American Indian" wife to make her

feel at home. True!

We headed on past Ballachulish (and had Sam pronounce it just for a

laugh) then taking a rather circuitous route we headed towards Inverness for

the night. Passing Loch Ness and Urquhart Castle on the way, Tina

thought she saw the Loch Ness Monster but it was only my sister taking a

dip again! We'll have to do something about your eyesight Tina....or do

something about my sister swimming naked in the loch. Mind you she has

single-handedly kept the tourist industry going for years!

We gladly got in out of the pouring rain and dried our steaming toes

in front of the fire as we feasted on Pan Haggerty, Bannocks and Clootie

Dumpling before turning in for the night. "I think I'm growing mould,"

wailed Cheetah as she wrung out her socks and hung them on the

mantelpiece," I wouldn't be surprised if all Scots had webbed toes

....not from in-breeding ....from natural selection!" she continued,

eyeing my tootsies meaningfully.

Next day we headed south to Stirling, made famous in "Braveheart"

where we were met by our old friend Mel Gibson - himself of Scots

descent and now practically sainted in his familial homeland. It was

also here that Michael donned his kilt and posed with a certain

unassuming Scot's lass ....but as most of you have seen this photo I

won't include it here! Then Mel took us on a personal tour of the

Wallace monument and if the climb up the hill it's set upon didn't

nearly finish us then the 232 steps in single file up the tower did. MG

and MG both took in the amazing view while the rest of us lay on the

flagstones, wheezing and giddy with altitude.

Time was wearing on and so our weekend ended and we had to take our

leave of Scotland and the fine weather ( the rain was just about

off...nearly) but not before we had one final feast ....of haggis! Well,

you didn't really think you'd get away with it did you Tina?.

Unfortunately we never made it to Culloden, or Edinburgh Castle and we

never had time for high tea with scones and double cream and jam....even

though Mary kept begging us to stop at every tea shop. We didn't make it

to the far North, or the Black Isle, or St. Andrews where Sean Connery

was waiting to give us a few lessons...golf lessons, that is! .....or

Skye and The Kyle of Lochalsh or The Mull of Kintyre ...or Fingal's cave

or .....

I guess we'll have to go again one weekend .....so as they say in

Scotland "Haste ye back!"

In the meantime ....who's turn is it next!!!

Marnie

*For those who don't know, in 1692 the MacDonalds of Glencoe were

massacred in their beds by the Campbells ( under English directives)

whom the MacDonalds had welcomed in out of the snow and spent the

evening entertaining!. There's been a bit of a strain between the clans

ever since and woe betide any MacDonald who even thinks of drinking a

can of THAT soup!