Subject: Scotland part 4 of 10 Date: Tue, 30 May 95 11:47:57 -0700 Turned out that I'd gone to sleep around 9:30, and we didn't have to wake until 7:30 or so in order to shower and get down to breakfast between 8am and 9am. Ten hours of sleep did wonders for me. John took his shower first, we'd learned from the other time. I slept while the water ran and dreamed of rain. I woke up again when John got out of the shower, and went in myself. The glass booth was just big enough to stand in, but the water controls were really neat in that you could do like four levels of 'warmth' in the range of water, and then adjust within those ranges. And the shower head was really kinda restrictive, but also detachable from the wall, so I could direct the stream anywhere 'cause the walls of the booth made it so that I could pretty much spray anywhere and still not splash water outside. One really nice touch was that the soap was lemon scented. I really liked that. After doing all the cleaning I needed to do it was very, very nice to just stand there in the hot spray of water and relax for a bit and think about what was coming for the day. We were going to go just a bit further South to another Land Rover parts store and then to a Museum of Military Vehicles. Then back up north to Edinburgh for the night, through the Twill area, which would be an excellent place to stop to look at the English woolens mills. My main focus really was going to be on the Scottish wool industry; but it wouldn't hurt to see what the English had done or were doing. We were the only people at our B&B, so were served breakfast by ourselves in the diningroom. We then went on a quick walk to see, closeup, a brilliant vest I'd seen, which turned out to be far less well made than I'd hoped. The crafts store wasn't open, yet, and from what I could see, it probably wouldn't offer the information that I needed, anyway. There was no spinning or weaving equipment and absolutely no lace in evidence. The bakery was open, however, so John bought us a sandwich for lunch, and I bought a scone and a custard tart. John's store was only 15 miles out from York. He spent a good hour there while I typed at this and ate my custard tart. Afterwards the proprietor of the place took the two of us for a tour of the place. He showed us all the cool trucks that were out in the yards, and then took us inside to show them their centaur, one of seven ever made. They'd managed to buy two of the seven, one of them in near mint condition with only 37 miles on it, the other had come in two halves and as spares, so they were still putting it together. The Centaurs were nearly solid steel, weighing 2 TONS, with tank like treads for the entire back half of the truck and the normal cab and front wheels of a truck. They were awesomely solid. They also had a Pink Panther in the garage, half covered with canvas it still had all the gun turrets and mounts and the like all over it. The sand ladders were still strapped to the sides as were all kinds of periphenalia all around it. It was painted a darker pink than I'd originally thought they'd been painted, 'cause I'd been thinking a lighter pink would blend into the sands better; but it was this nearly rose pink. If I *had* to get a pink car I would get a Pink Panther, the rest of the beast was so solidly deadly, it didn't mind being pink, I think. It was fun looking at all the details and seeing all the things that it carried. Those were the two vehicles we'd kinda hoped to see at the museum, and having been able to see them this up close and personal, we decided to skip the museum and head north. But since we had some time, we decided to head north along the shore. As we went out, we were went through Scarborough, a small town on the sea with a huge spring fair coming up for the Bank's Holiday, which, this year, again corresponds with our Memorial Day weekend. As we entered town John said, "I should have ordered a rollbar for the 90 from him." There were pay phones in town, so we stopped to let him call and order the rollbar. No such luck... as the phone was busy. We rolled on. We reached the outskirts of Edinburgh around 6:30 and tried to call ahead to find more direct directions than 'head for New Haven', cause all our maps were of a scale that didn't show neighborhoods. We stopped at a Superstore kind of thing, like Fred Meyers in the Northwest that has a grocery, and lots of tiny specialty shops as well, and the customer service lady gave us directions on how to get there, that included The Peacock Inn and Harry Rasdenn's, which was the same restaurant that Jenny had mentioned was nearby, so we knew we were headed in the right place. I managed to get us a little bit lost, thinking that the Star Bank was a bank instead of a bank. A bank in terms of money instead of a bank of earth. Jenny's directions were kind of poetic, starting with just finding the area, finding a landmark and then turning our back to it and it was really neat cool finding that all her directions, as poetic as they were, were also quite correct. We turned a little early, having little faith that we'd find 'the Star Bank' but in our wanders while lost, we found a street that had close to the same name as their street, so we wandered about a little more and found the correct street, finally... and arrived around 7pm. John says that the thing he loves most about going to a new place is always being lost and never quite knowing where we're going. I have to say that, sometimes, it's one of the things that I like the least. One nice thing, though, is that, with John, we nearly always end up in the right place in the end. Robert was the one who greeted us at the door, Steve's son. He's a slender lad, energetic and bright as bright can be, and coolly and marvelously social. We got to meet Jenny in the kitchen and then Robert got to show us his room, which was the one we were staying in. Tara was practicing some woodwind instrument that was hauntingly beautiful as we came up the stairs. Robert then helped John and Steve bring all our Stuff up to his room while I tried to arrange a visit with Malcolm as his only free evening was Monday evening. Then off to dinner with the Glover's at Harry Ransden's, which was rebuilt from an old fish market that was by the old ship's harbor. it was also within walking distance of the Glover's so the six of us walked down while just talking about all kinds of random things. Jenny explained that Harry's is a very English place, that serves very simple food, fish and chips and a variety thereof and is also very well known for it's very old fashioned puddings. Robert liked the place enough to push for it rather steadily as we walked, 'cause we were also discussing going to the Peacock, which had more traditional and fancy fare. We ended up at Harry's and were treated to ginger beer and beer at the bar while waiting for a table. Finding a table for six took a little while. Robert took full advantage of the wait to play in the indoor play room that had the sea of plastic balls with a basketball hoop to throw them at. Jenny told us, then that Harry Ransden's was a chain restaurant, with branches all over the world, which was why it was 'world famous' and why both the waiting staff and food was so focused, it was supposed to bring a bit of England everywhere. The waitresses and waiters were dressed formally, in black with white aprons and shirts. They did a fairly good job, too, of taking care of us. The food was pretty plain, most folks getting the fish and chips, Robert getting sausages that were battered and fried, and I got a parsley fish cake that was a whole lot like East Coast crab cakes but with fish instead of crab. I really liked it, especially with the 'from fresh potato' chips. Yum. The real crown of the meal, though, was the old fashioned puddings for dessert, which were served with either cream or custard. John got the ginger pudding and I got the sticky toffee pudding and his was smothered in hot custard while I just had fresh cream on mine. Oh *wow*. Puddings are kinda like really dense American cakes... kinda like halfway between cheesecake and 'regular' cake... the texture's kinda like a super dense cake, and they're usually made with a batter that's put in something that gets boiled until the pudding's done, i.e. steamed. And the toffee one had toffee on the bottom of the pan, so when it was turned upright into the dish, the toffee ran all over it and into the bottom of the bowl and all through the cream. Yum. Really sweet, really sticky toffee it was. And the pudding itself was dense and rich and flavorful, with small currents and dark with spice. John's ginger pudding was nearly hot with the spice, and tangy enough for him to just love it. Jenny had a jam and suet pudding, which was a white pudding with jam at the bottom/top. Wow. Jenny said that nearly no one makes that kind of pudding anymore, and it was one of the things that made Harry Ransden's as distinctive as it was. I hadn't ever had anything like that before, and really enjoyed it, especially with a big mug of unsweetened tea. After that, the walk back to their apartment was really necessary, and through the cold, night air it woke me up pretty well, along with the caffeine in the tea. We made it back just fine and then left the Glovers at their home while John and I made it over to Malcolm's, which was with in a mile of the Glover's place. Jenny gave us her key, and wished us a pleasant good night after making absolutely sure that of the two of us, one of us wasn't going to drink if we were going to drive. Since I nearly never drink, it was easy for me to promise. It turned out that we drank tea. :) A lovely rose petal with black tea, clear and nearly sweet with the hint of rose. The directions that Malcolm gave us were perfect, mostly telling us where they were instead of 'how to get there' by my first asking the Glovers for a detailed street map of the city and then by following Malcolm's directions on how to find his place. I loved the way the apartments were numbered, too, with the numbers going *down* as you went up each flight of stairs. Apartments 5 and 6 were on the lowest floor, the next set were 3 and 4 and, finally, at the top were 1 and 2. Malcolm said that theirs was the only apartment on the block that was numbered that way. Malcolm is much as I remembered him, built big, with that soft voice, the biking leather pants, and long, dark hair and Carole was a beautiful and cheerful at 10pm as last time it was late when we met. We caught up for a bit and then asked them about what we should see this time around. They were the ones with the marvelous suggestions the last trip around, and this time they were just as helpful. I think a lot of just how much 'help' they were was simply from how much they love the land and history all about them. I think that part of the love for Scotland is reflected in just how passionate Malcolm can get about the political and legistic happenings around here. One of the local parking lots started wheel clamping cars that hadn't paid for their parking and one of the drivers decided to test if that action was legal in Scotland. They sued the parking lot for extortion and theft. Extortion 'cause they were getting money to appease the threat of taking the car, theft 'cause they were keeping the owner from legal use of their car. The parking lot company was found guilty of both. Now no one in Scotland can use wheel clamps on cars other than the police, and the police are more likely to just tow the car away than clamp it. We asked what *they* thought was good to see in Scotland. There were so many things, at first, but since they'd just had a trip to the Orkneys the fall before, it was easy for them to recommended the Orkney Islands and they started telling us all the history and sites that we could see there and lots of things about their trip. Everything from the pitch of the ship that brought them there to the standing stones, from the puppy that hid under the seat of the car 'cause it wanted to go into town with them to the internal beauty of the Italian chapel compared to the shabby exterior. Plus an interesting and very lively discussion of the merits of the whiskey distillery that was on the island. The distillery is the only one of two in Scotland that follow the full procedure for distilling and casking whiskey, but the discussion that followed was more about the merits of the whiskey itself. The other part of the fun is just watching Malcolm and Carole interact, 'cause it's *really* fun to listen to. We kept them up until midnight, sipping tea and talking and Carole had a whole pile of pamphlets and information about things we just had to see, and it was really cool to have that much to pick from. As usual, we're glad that they were near the beginning of the trip, to help with the latter end of it. We dragged in about 1am, and it turned out that Steve was still up working. We said a good night and went happily to sleep. ----- end of 4 of 10 ----- Copyright 1995 by Phyllis L. Rostykus. All rights reserved.