Post Script

I’m at work now. I came in yesterday for a half day after the chiropractor. This was a good thing because nothing had changed & I was ready to leave after a few hours. I needed to work my way back.

Got home yesterday to find himself in a cranky mood as the internet/cable/phone had been out all day and after 35 minutes on the phone with them and telling them about the very ill old lady who lived there so we couldn’t be without phone (leaving out the part that she wasn’t actually there and wouldn’t be for 2 weeks... it’s like I’m on vacation still) got them to come out the same day instead of Wednesday. They showed & pronounced it’s the line & they’ll have to send someone today to replace that.

Then, this morning, Himself’s car wouldn’t start. Dead. Very cranky. Not a pleasant ride to work with him. Ahhhhhhh. The real world. Cable’s got nothing on my life! Maybe I'll skip the book & go straight to television...

Home again, home again

So, we’re actually home. The Grosvenor in London was the ONLY place we stayed that didn’t have free wi-fi so nothing got posted from there & the Skylounge at Heathrow is not Delta’s lounge, it’s shared by all eight of their partner airlines so my platinum card wouldn’t get me in. Nothing got posted from there. Consequently, there will be several posts going up during the course of today. I don’t want to put it all up as one as it would be VERY long.

As I said, we’re home. Landed at a bit after one yesterday and were home by three. I’d done three loads of laundry by seven and at eight, we ordered a pizza & were in bed by nine Having got up at five, left the hotel at six it was then two AM for our bodies! 

So, We went to a lovely place a few blocks from the hotel at half eight Saturday night & had a wonderful last meal. Himself had curry & I had a rib eye. The food was excellent & the service was good. It was pub-like but was a bakery/tea room that also served dinner & had a full bar. Popular with the locals because a party of six came in & asked for a specific table. Then a group from the French Embassy (guessing here but it was just down the road) and knew the staff by name. As it was a bakery, we felt obliged to have dessert & port. 

Back to Grosvenor. Bed by ten.

As I said above, up at five, downstairs at six. No breakfast. A mix-up about the time. Walked 10 blocks to the Hyde Park Corner underground station which turned out to be closed for the weekend due to maintenance. We could have taken a cab to an open station but, by the time I’d hailed a cab & got us & our luggage into it, my sub-conscious couldn’t bear the thought of getting out & shlepping down long flights of stairs to the underground and my mouth just said “Heathrow”. So, instead of my brilliant plan to get us to the airport for ten pounds, it was five times that. Oh well. I wasn’t sure which station would be the next one open anyway so...

Got to Heathrow, eventually got the bags checked, couldn’t get into the lounge, had to have breakfast at Starbucks, got to the gate and onto the plane which took off on time. 

It was a rough-ish flight as we skirted the edges of Irene but uneventful. I watched ‘Water for Elephants’ and ‘Of Gods & Men’ as well as reading most of ‘Sarah’s Key.’ It wasn’t a cheerful flight but Himself & I had our row of three to ourselves so we were less uncomfortable and the wine with lunch was acceptable. Immigration was, as always, crowded, hot, loud & less than pleasant but we got through and were hardly acknowledged by customs. 

Unpacking, laundry, three weeks of mail (that will take a day or two,) bills. The joys of coming home. 

Himself has fed me and now I must bathe, dress & head to the chiropractor for an adjustment (my head has turned less & less for the last ten days) and then to work and see if I still have a job. Hmmmmm... not sure what I want that answer to be...

I hope you’ve enjoyed, or at least found this informative. It’s been interesting and entertaining keeping a blog so perhaps for the one of you who’s always asking when the book is coming out, I’ll start doing this more often under a different heading. We’ll see. 

Anyway, the vacation’s over & life awaits so....

Later.   

And back to London

Up at six, bathed, breakfasted & out of the house by half seven. At E’burgh Airport at half eight. Pulled out of a line of lots of people to the counter to check in at nine as the flight was at quarter to ten and we’d never have made it through the line by then with only two people working the counter. Security was a breeze. At the gate just in time for boarding. Uneventful flight. Easy Jet will nickel & dime you to death selling you every thing, including charging two pounds fifty for a cup of hot water & a Starbucks Via packet (Starbucks single serve packets of instant) but, they also, along with cologne, perfume, and just about anything else you can think of, sell coach & train tickets in-flight so we got them. At 30% less than advertised on line. 

Landed. Shuttle to train platform. Train from Luton Parkway to St Pancras/King’s Cross. Underground from St. P. on the Victoria Line to Oxford Circus (packed,) change for the Central Line to Marble Arch. Walk a few blocks along Park Lane at Hyde Park and we’re at The Grosvenor House. Himself said “this room’s alright but the bed is horrible” yet he’s soundly sleeping on it as we type!

After checking in (yes, they had a room available when we arrived three hours before check in) & freshening up we headed around the corner to a pub for lunch. Turned out to be the same as the one where we dined in South Kensington one night which, turns out, is a chain with about thirty pubs in London. They’ve bought & taken over pubs that were run down & in trouble, given them a good refurbishing and have a pretty good product even though one hates to see the end of the individually owned, family run ‘Local.’

After a trip back to our room to get what someone, who shall remain nameless, swore was an English Heritage Foreign Visitors Pass, which,turned out to be a brochure about them with the receipt from Housesteads Roman Fort (Hadrian’s Wall... last week) stapled to it, we went to Apsley House, the ancestral home of the Dukes Wellington. It’s pretty much still the way it was when expanded in the early 19th century with a fabulous collection of dishes, silver, swords, and art, most of which was given to the first Duke after he defeated Napoleon at Waterloo. 

The seventh Duke, who inherited upon the death of his nephew, consulting with his son who agreed that they couldn’t afford to keep up the house, let alone restore it (it had been badly damaged when a bomb hit the building next door,) gave the house and most of the collections & furnishings in the public & state rooms, to the Government with provision of a small apartment for the family in the house, after WWII. The current (eighth) Duke still resides there with his family occupying about three rooms at ground level, four in the lower level, and five on the top floor (that would be the third in the US but is the second here.) Not a bad ‘small apartment‘ that The Government takes care of as they own the building. And of course, he has the right to use the state rooms for special occasions, like Christmas dinner, the kids wedding receptions, that sort of thing.  

After, we left just in time to get caught in a terrible rain. we arrived back at Grosvenor almost drenched. Himself is, as I said earlier, napping while I do this and soon we’ll  bathe & dress for dinner, which I think will be here in the Hotel as it looks like the rain may be settling in for the evening. Up early (5:00AM) to get to Heathrow and head home. 

I’ll report on dinner from the airport lounge. 

Last day in Scotland

So, Friday arrived. Finally, a typical Scottish Day. Grey, cold, pissing with rain, and, a fairly steady wind. We lounged about the house with coffee while I packed Himself’s & my bags in prep for the flight/coach/train down to London in the morning and about half eleven, having bathed & dressed, we set off into town for the last time. We went in by a different route as we were on the search for the house where Himself lived for several years as a wee one... 1313 Inverleith Terrace. We found the terrace eventually but not 1313. When we put that into the Garmin it consistently changed the house number to 35 which was as high as they went on the road. Himself did, in the end, admit that after 49 years he might have misremembered the address but was sure that it wasn’t #13 which was just as well because it was under renovations and covered with scaffolding and screening so that we couldn’t have got a photo of him on the steps (to hang next to the one of him on the steps as a three/four year old) anyway. 

We then proceeded round/through town to the car park nearest the Playhouse where we’d end our day and headed into the city center where we went to a pub called Jekyll & Hyde for a performance of ‘Rachel’s Cafe,’ a one person show based on the experiences of Rachel/Eric, a transgendered person who really runs the cafe in Bloomington, IN. The concept was very good, the venue & set close to perfect, the acting could have been just a bit better. The Actor was pretty good as Rachel but failed to fully become Eric at the end of the day. Dennis and I had hoped for something that might move us to tears but it was just sweet. Perhaps Rachel’s had it that easy. We gave it three stars.

After the show, it was raining again/still and we headed Quickly to the Royal Scottish Museum for The Queen exhibit. Four rooms done as the 50’s, 60’s, 70’s/80’s, 90’s/2000’s/2010’s and began with the photo taken of the new Queen as she stepped off the plane in London when she returned from Kenya after news of her father’s death going on to her most recent official portrait for her Diamond Jubilee next year. It was well done and we all enjoyed it.

When we came out the museum, the rain having almost stopped, we wandered over to the Royal Mile in front of the Castle and strolled down the length stopping here and there to browse. I’m afraid it’s really a lot like Duval Street these days full of tee-shirt/souvenir/cashmere and kilt shops. And pubs. OK. So there are no kilt or cashmere shops on Duval Street but you know what I mean.

We got to the bottom and turned toward the car park where we made a stop to swap our trainers for dress shoes and our windbreakers for sport coats then headed to Julliano’s a bit early for our reservation at six which was a good thing. We had a relaxed meal with desserts and just got to the playhouse in time for a drink before curtain. The performance was fabulous. A world premier and an old classic, the names of both I’ve forgotten and don’t have handy but will edit in later for the purists who must know.   

The crowd was better inE’burgh than in London. No one in shorts & flip flops, a few people in jeans & tee’s but most were well dressed or dressed up. Lots of men in skirts. Formal. With the ruffles, bow ties, cutaway coats, and hats too. Ranging from about 12 years to 80. Whole families of ‘em.

Home. Nightcap. Bed.

A last day in the Highlands

So we woke up this morning, bathed, dressed & staggered down to breakfast. Actually, there was no staggering because I’d had a great night’s sleep & our thoughtful landlord & lady had an electric kettle, tea, nescafe, wrapped cheese, biscuits & chocolates in the rooms so I’d had tea & a biscuit already. Breakfast was great. Except possibly for the life-sized Elvis in the corner glaring at us. There was a foursome of Americans at the next table who seemed as put off by him as I and Christopher found out from them later that they were from New Hampshire but because Himself doesn’t play the game properly, he didn’t ask where in NH.

After, we gathered our things, paid the bill and headed out into the cold morning, it was 48 F (welcome to summer in the highlands!) we headed first to Fort George. Our landlord had told us, upon hearing that it was our first stop, that it was a new fort (built from about 1739 - 67) but worth the visit. He then said that it had been build after a major battle in the area between the Protestant English & the Jacobite Scots to prevent further insurrections but that there was a clan who’d turned & fought with the Brits and so if we had to ask directions or anything, be sure it wasn’t a Campbell we were asking because you can’t trust them at all. He was serious.

Fort George is still an active military base but is open to the public because, being 250 years old, is of some historic value. The men stationed there were on 3 weeks leave (prior to being shipped out) so the place was practically empty. It was fascinating. 

Spent a couple of hours there and then headed for Lock Ness, the monster, and, Urquhart Castle. It’s of course, a ruin. But, there was a great Cafe (in which we got a 10% discount with our Scottish Heritage passes,) a good film presentation (packing 1000 years of history  into 8 minutes. The perfect length for any presentation. The ruins were interesting but I think we’ve all reached our maximum capacity for broken walls and scenic overlooks.

We headed home to Peebles.

We did stop at a number of scenic overlooks. 

We took about 100 photos in 4 hours.

Dennis said, as our camera battery died, ‘when our camera dies, we don’t have to stop any more.’ Himself reminded him that we had 2 i-phones & an i-pad with which to take pictures. We turned a 4 hour drive into 11. Lots of photos.

Had dinner at home and are about to retire. Tomorrow, pack, into town about noon, a bit of sight seeing, a play, a photo/painting exhibit of the 60 years of Betty Windsor’s reign, dinner and The Scottish Ballet. Saturday, Himself & I fly to London then home on Sunday. I’m depressed at the thought of leaving.

Later. 

And one more for today...

So we reached our B & B shortly after 5:00, checked in, did a bit of un-packing and had about an hour’s rest before dressing and heading out for dinner. We walked along the river front, checking out menus until we decided. Nico’s. A ‘French/Scottish brasserie.’ They were well trained... if they were trying to ignore us. One couple who’ been seated just after us, got up & left. We were discussing leaving when the waiter showed up and asked if we were ready to order. He seemed quite taken aback that we wanted to order drinks. When we finally got food, it was like a trip to heaven. We had venison carpaccio & smoked salmon for starters and I could have left happy then but that was followed by lamb chops, steak & ale pie, fish & chips and a lovely Pino Noir. For sweet there was banana creme brulee with baileys ice cream & tiramisue & port & muscat. It was orgasmic. Somewhere during dinner, we realized that we were the only gays in the village apparently but they’ll survive. Be Calm and Carry On! 

We staggered back along the river, past the fly fisherman, to the B & B and, having had a night cap as the sun disappeared about 20 minutes ago at about 9:55, are now getting settled in for the night. Breakfast is at 8:00 and we’re ‘wheels up’ by 9:30 and heading t Fort George. Then, we’ll do the lake and try to get in at least 1 more historic site on the drive back to Peebles.

Good night for now.  

Look out... here's some more!

So Stirling was not a ruin. Anymore. It has been re-roofed and restored very carefully, in large part back to it’s 16th/17th splendor. The wood carvings from ceilings & doors have been reproduced and the originals, or what’s left of them, are in air-tight display cases in the exhibit hall. It was a splendid place & another well done audio tour. 

Next up was Doune Castle. We did not know until we got there but it was the castle used for most of Monty Python’s Holy Grail and the audio guide was narrated by one of the cast from the film This made it even more wonderful for us. The audio guide kept saying things like, at the entrance gate, “if you’d like to know about the attempted siege of this castle using a ‘Trojan Rabbit’, press the green button now” and there would be excerpts from the film & bits about the making of the film. (Most of the extras at the wedding festivities were tourists whom they persuaded to stay for the day.)

Doune was also a ruin. By 1800, the roofs had fallen in as well as the floor of one set of bedrooms into the great hall. Over the last 200 years several wealthy, noble-born history buffs and, more recently, Scottish Heritage have worked to replace all the roofs, the minstrel gallery, and doors. They’ve also shorn up the outer walls are presently rebuilding a section of collapsed wall. I think that, even without the Monty Python bits, Doune was one of the best, most informative we’ve seen.

Pub lunch down the road & now we’re back on the road again, officially in the Highlands.

Stay tuned.