Linlithgow

Last weekend we went to Linlithgow to see the jousting. (The post is so delayed because I've been up in bed with a fever of 99.6 since then. Everyone else got it for one day and I had it for half a week.) 

Linlithgow palace was built by James I. He had just returned from England with lots of new ideas about ruling; these included 'civilizing' the Scots by outlawing soccer and late-night drinking. He was then promptly killed by his nobles. This is a striking example of just how far humanity has progressed. 

Whose idea, by the way, was it to add this hideous thing onto the top of the castle? Why? Why, I ask?

It was the Historic Scotland Society doing the reenactments again. (Actually, this time it was more of a tournament than reenactments.) We arrived just too late for Maeve to do the foam swords again; however, she did get to march around with a severed head.

There was staff wrestling...

... 'belly boxing', where you try to knock the other person out of the square using only your stomach (tell me wearing chain mail is cheating),

primitive-style soccer (no rules, just get the ball between the posts), ...

St. Margaret

With our two visits to Dunfermline, we have now seen nearly everything there is to see connected to St. Margaret there. The points of interest are:

The former shrine of St. Margaret, where her relics were originally interred.

The church of St. Margaret, where her relics are now. Unfortunately the church is only open briefly for morning Mass during the week, so we didn't get to go in. The kindly old priest at the presbytery seemed pleasantly surprised that we wanted to come in, but he didn't have the keys to the church. Here, however, is a photo of the outside:

And here is Cardinal Patrick O'Brien with the relics:

Also in Dunfermline is the Cave of St. Margaret, where she would retire to pray while her husband Malcolm was busy killing Macbeth. Originally a nook in the side of a hill, this cave is now reached by a long, long tunnel sided with corrugated metal. Why? Because the owner of the ravine containing the cave decided to fill it in and build a parking lot. When a protest with over 1,000 signatures was raised, they compromised on building the tunnel so that the cave was still accessible. It seems strange, but almost no one goes there: we were the first visitors in three days. No photography was permitted, but the internet will provide:

The cave also included replicas of St. Margaret's Gospel, and her Black Rood. 

And, of course, while in Dumferline we re-visited the 'smallest building in Scotland'. The smallest registered building in Scotland is situated in the park; Mommy pointed it out on our last visit. Brigid promptly decided that the ice cream stand next to the tiny telephone booth was the 'smallest,' &c; since we've gotten ice cream there both times, she is a great fan of it. (The real smallest building has since been inscribed with 'THIS IS A DOCTOR WHO TARDIS', which gives you a good idea of the appearance.)

--Sophia

Dumfries

Maeve, Daddy and I took an overnight trip to Dumfries. Brigid and Mommy stayed at home; we didn't want to risk more illness for Brigid on the long bus rides, and Mommy frankly just needed a break.  

We left early in the morning, and it was just about noon by the time we got to Dumfries. All we had in the way of luggage was food and some clean clothes in a backpack, so we didn't bother stopping by the hotel; we headed straight for Dumfries museum. Founded in 1836, it was converted from an old windmill. The windmill, as a windmill, had never been profitable, because right next to it there was a dam on the river and a big watermill. It was going to be demolished, but instead the town voted to preserve it and convert it into an observatory. They installed a telescope and camera obscura, and performed some renovations. Then lots of locals started donating items to the observatory, and it became first an informal and then an official museum.

We were the only ones there that Friday afternoon, so we got a private tour of the camera obscura. The guide took us up a long spiral staircase to a tiny round room at the top of the old mill. The main features were  white, concave table and several ropes hanging down like bellropes from a small aperture overhead. The guide found Maeve a small stool and turned out the lights.

By pulling one of the ropes, the guide moved the mirror to project the light through a 1.5 magnification lens. She told us that this lens was, in fact, the very 19th century lens originally installed. As the mirror overhead slowly rotated, an image projected on the white surface of the table with surprising clarity. It showed the museum gate, and really, the image was better than anything you get on Google Maps. One kept wanting to hit the 'zoom' button.

We then got a virtual tour of the town, as the guide used the ropes to turn the periscope-like viewer and show us all the important features. She also described what they would have looked like when the camera obscura was first built. They included a house where Robert Burns lived, an old church, a hospital, and the 'new' and 'old' bridges -- the 'new' bridge being about 100 years old, and the 'old' bridge having served as a pedestrian bridge for the same period of time.

Finally the guide let us play some tricks with the camera obscura. She put an M-shaped piece of white cardboard on the table, and everything projected onto it nicely, with results much like one of those trick mirrors. She put the table out of focus by lowering it (there was a counterweight arrangement so the table could raise and lower to focus on nearer or further objects), and gave Maeve a flyswatter-like object, with white cardboard replacing the swatter. By raising or lowering this like a magnifying glass, you could get a focused image on it above the table. These all worked because the image would project on anything of light color--the table, cardboard, or, as I noticed, my gray pants.

Maeve was thrilled, also, when our guide put the table out of focus again and let her focus it. She was shy at first, then reached out and focused it quite capably. The guide was very impressed, told Maeve how well-behaved she had been, and added, "Your mom and dad must be very proud of you." (Pretty sure she meant ME. Sigh ... )

Once the camera obscura demonstration was over, we wandered through the rest of the museum. Most of it was fairly dull town history information, although Maeve was thrilled by a giant papier-mache  dragon which hung in the main hall for unclear reasons. The basement, labeled 'Sacred Stones,' was a collection of artifacts ranging from Gaelic to Roman. My favorite was this, apparently the only existing evidence for the goddess Harimella.

After the museum, we settled down near the town fountain for a nice lunch. Built to commemorate the bringing of water to Dumfries, the fountain is gaudy in a wonderfully seven-year-old-pleasing way.

We also went by the Dumfries used bookstore; Maeve got some more Secret Seven books. Back to the fountain for more reading; I'm reading the Game of Kings series by Dorothy Dunnett. 

We got pizza for dinner and stayed overnight at a hotel. They gave us a 'family room,' with a full-sized bed for Daddy, a couch-bed for me and a cot for Maeve. We played Hearts and Sergeant Major until bedtime. (I won Sergeant Major, but I keep forgetting about the ten of diamonds in Hearts. Plus Maeve refuses to sort her hand, so she thinks she's out of a suit one trick and then plays it on the next trick.)

In the morning, we took a bus to Caerlaverock Castle. First stop was the full-sized replica of Warwolf, the giant trebuchet which destroyed Caerlaverock.

You can just see Maeve up against the trebuchet for scale. Partially cut off on the right are the giant winches used for winding up Warwolf.

Next we went down to the (very kid-friendly) information center, where Maeve had lots of fun reading about the battle, creating her own coat of arms with stencils, and dressing up as a lady of the period.

Finally we headed over the moat to the castle itself. Complete with gatehouse, towers, moat, and (for the time) very luxurious living apartments, Caerlaverock castle is in a fair state of preservation; a number of decorative plaques above windows are still intact. 

Then we wandered over to the original castle site and had lunch. Maeve was delighted to find a thistle in bloom.

Finally, with an hour or so left before the bus, we went over to the playground. Below see photograph of me making a fool of myself on a sort of miniature 'ropes course' they had; I was trying to beat Maeve's time.

Then back home on the long bus to the train station. More cards on the train, and then the big hill home. Brigid, characteristically, sulked and refused to talk to us until Daddy offered to play cards with her. Maeve and I were just glad to get home.

--Sophia

William Wallace

Wednesday saw our long-delayed trip to see the William Wallace monument. Things got off to a rocky start--Brigid was sick on the bus, necessitating lots of paper towels and a new shirt for her at the gift shop. And then of course she didn't want to wear the new shirt, so we had a fifteen-minute tantrum. 

Eventually, however, we did get our act together and climb up the hill to the monument. Like the Washington monument, it's a tower; not so tall as the Washington monument, but definitely more fun. After all, was Washington 6'6" with a broadsword? I think not.

After the usual bread-cheese-fruit meal, we watched a 'reenactment.' Like many of the Scottish reenactments, it consisted solely of an actor in period costume coming out, telling the story in brief, waving around a battleaxe, and yelling "Freedom!" Brigid panicked when the man charged us with the axe, and Maeve left shortly afterwards when he started talking about "ripping the unprotected underbellies of the horses." I, however, enjoyed the whole thing. (Actually, Brigid enjoyed it too, but she kept a careful eye on the axe.)

The monument itself had four levels, reached by a narrow spiral staircase. The first level had signs telling the story of William Wallace; it also had his broadsword in a glass case!  The second level was a 'Hall of Heroes', with statues of 'Rabbie' Burns, Adam Smith, Robert the Bruce, and many others. The third level told about the building of the monument. The top level was open-air, with low railings and benches; you could see the countryside for miles around, including the site of the Battle of Stirling Bridge.

Afterwards, we went for a walk in the woodlands surrounding the monument. They were incredibly beautiful--mossy logs, ferns, lichens, flowers. It was really the image that 'the forest primeval' calls up. 

When we got here, and Brigid saw her first bluebells, she started calling all flowers "color + 'bells'." So for months now, she's been holding out for the existence of "purplebells." Her theory was confirmed by all the foxgloves in full bloom in the forest.

And what really made my day: no one threw up on the bus ride home. Hooray!

Highland Games

Yesterday, we went to the Strathmore Highland games! Featuring:

1) Scottish dancing. This was actually a competition, and the girls (and a few boys) were very intense about it. Some of them were younger than Maeve, and exceedingly cute. 

2) Caber throwing. This uses a great big stick like a telephone pole; the athlete throws it so it flips over, and tries to get it to land as close as possible to straight forward, 12:00. We were only there for the junior caber throwing, which came to an abrupt end when the caber broke!

3) A marching bagpipe band. Note the tiny girl drummer in the second picture. She was drumming very competently, complete with twirling the drumsticks, and looking very pleased with herself.

4) Bicycle races. Traditional Scottish cycling, no doubt. Before the race, the cyclists came up to random people and asked them to give a "push" to the bicycle. The second photo is of the two leaders in the final stretch.

5) Hurling the hammer. (All the spinning this involved revealed that, contrary to rumor, Scots all wear bicycle shorts under their kilts.)

6) Tug-of-war. Both Maeve and Brigid decided this was the best part. We had seats right next to it, so we had a great view. All the men would roar as they pulled; poor Brigid was quite terrified.

7) Bagpipe competitions. These provided background music throughout the games.

8) Irish dancing. This was mostly older dancers, and the jumping was quite athletic. Hope my fencing coach doesn't see this, or he'll raise his expectations...

9) Races! These were open to spectators, by age group. Maeve was eager to be in the 5 to 7, and someone talked me into 11 to 14. Maeve is third from the left in the first picture, and the red blur on the far left on the second. I'm on the right in the third. They were giving out Cadbury's bars for prizes--I came in third out of 3, so I got one. Yeah!

The games were at Glamis castle (as in, 'Thane of Glamis. Thane of Cawdor. King hereafter...') Below is a photo.

All had a great time, and it was wonderful to hear Brigid telling Daddy about it the next day.

The king sat in...

...Dunfermline town.

To complete our tour of the places mentioned in Sir Patrick Spens ('Norroway' and Aberdour were the others), we went to Dunfermline.

It was a long and twisty bus ride, leading to some dispute between Maeve and Brigid about who sat next to whom. Daddy was much coveted, having just returned from Norway, and Mommy let Maeve lie with her head in her lap. I, therefore, got to sit by myself and look at the scenery.

When we arrived, we set out for the Tourist Information Center. On the way, we passed the Dunfermline Cannon. This 18th century relic has a rather odd history. Gifted to the town by a foundry looking to set up a branch in Dunfermline (it didn't get to), it was used on a railing on a dark corner, moved during World War II because people kept tripping over it during blackouts, and finally set up in an odd corner with a plaque. One has to wonder why they didn't just get rid of the thing.

The lady at the information center was very helpful, and terribly concerned that we'd be too cold in the park. (The weather was a beautiful 70 degrees and breezy.) We went down there and ate lunch, then took the girls to the playground. They were thrilled to discover a seesaw and merry-go-round, never having seen such things before. Maeve and I experimented with lever principles; i.e., she sat way out on one end of the seesaw and I sat almost at the center on the other. 

We managed to pry the girls off the playground after much prevaricating, then stopped for vanilla ice cream with flakes on our way out. Then we went to the two-in-one abbey and palace (both of course in ruins.) Apparently the abbey guest house had been converted into a palace for Queen Anne. Maeve decided that she would be crowned Queen of Maeveland, and marched through the ruins in a royal procession.

The abbey chapel is now a functioning Church of Scotland. Inside, we got to see the grave of Robert the Bruce; outside were the relics of Queen Margaret of Scotland. We were going to see St. Margaret's cave as well, but it was closed when we got there.

This time, Daddy got the fish and chips for dinner. I went home with the girls.

--Sophia

Addendum: Robert the Bruce's grave under the pulpit.

[Sharon blogging]

The following is an epic poem by Miss Maeve Dever, inspired by a confluence of repeatedly reading Rob Roy and Sir Patrick Spens,  and visiting a very large number of castles. Reproduced here verbatim.

The Robbers

Part I

The full moon is out tonight,

The full moon is out,

And I too am out tonight,

Out and about.

To the darkest farm-house

The farmer fast asleep,

To the quiet farm-house

Stelthily I creep.

For the gold and plunder

Far have I come,

So through the farm-house

Now do I roam.

I have found the treasure-chest

In the horse's barn,

Now I bring back

Jewels and gold again.

Back in the camp-site

Well have I done,

But on my next quest I will

Swim the ocean foam.

Part II

On the wind swept beach I stand,

On the beach I stand,

Looking out on the ocean blue,

Blue and green and grand.

Now, my dagger by my side,

My dagger sharp and strong,

I swim out on the ocean deep

Blue and green and grand.

To the war-ship's side I swim,

My dagger in my hand,

I bore one hole, and two, and three,

And now I turn around.

And now the ship's boat I am on,

Seizing the golden jug,

And I sink the ship's good boat,

And beat the water to foam.

And now across the land I run,

To the campsite safe,

In the forest trees wherin

All robber men are safe.

And I will hide the golden jug

In the treasure store,

And I will come back many a time

To hide my treasure there.

I know not if I'm going to have

Another guest this day

Or if it will be a year

Till I shall go away.

Part III

And now out side the castle I stand

With nothing in my hand,

And now around the castle I walk

Searching for a door.

And now the door at last I find,

And I enter it,

And I stand before the throne,

And look around a bit.

And when I see that no-one is here,

I take the septer jeweled,

And when I think of it I take

The golden crown as well.*

Part IIII**

And to the campsite I do not go,

But wait till the king comes in,

And state my case to him and show

The golden septer and crown.

The king agrees that I may rule,

The next day I am crowned,

And the first day that I rule,

I pas this law around.

That no robber they may hurt,

But bring them to the king,

To see if they may be set free,

And not to injure them.

And though my life is better than theirs,

I am a robber still,

For through the land I go to rob,

But I am ruler too.***

---------------

*These stanzas were apparently inspired by Edinburgh Castle, where Maeve much admired the "secret entrance" postern door in the back wall of the castle, and the crown jewels of Scotland together on display there with the Stone of Scone.

**She really does know her Roman numerals, but prefers the IIII on clockfaces to the standard IV.

***No comments from our Republican readers, please.

Incompetence

It is a drizzly, gray evening. (Or should I say 'grey'? We are in the UK, after all.) We have been cooped inside all day by the weather. No one wanted to go anywhere, so yours truly got sent to get dinner.

The plan was simple enough. Walk down the hill to the bus stop. Take the bus to the bus station. Walk to the pizza place. Order:

1)a 16" margherita pizza (oddly enough, they measure pizza in inches here too.)

2)a large haddock fish dinner

3)a medium side of chips.

And then take the bus back home. Easy? Of course. I had the bus pass, a map, a takeout menu and money in my purse. What could go wrong?

Walk down the hill: check. Not pleasant in the drizzle, but at least I managed to take the right turn at the roundabout.

Take the bus: not so easy. I didn't have a watch, and I hadn't checked the time when I left. After, buses arrive at the stop every fifteen minutes or so. Except, that is, from 3:00 to 5:00, when it's more like once an hour. And I had just missed one.

After about an hour of pacing, the bus finally arrived. I flashed my bus pass and got on, feeling like a professional. Bus to station: check.

At the station, I walked about a block to the right, decided that was wrong, walked back, walked a block to the left, realized that was absurd, and then remembered that it was straight ahead. I took the right turn at the intersection and made it to the pizza place. Check.

For once, the man at the pizza place didn't seem to have inordinate trouble with my accent, and I got the order right the first time. Ten minutes later, I was heading back for the bus stop, pizza, fish and chips in hand. Check.

I arrived at the bus stop just in time to catch my bus. I hopped aboard and--no bus pass. I searched my purse. Nothing. Apologized to the bus driver, set down the pizza, fished through the purse again. Nothing. Finally, I decided I couldn't hold him up any longer, and handed him a pound coin.

The bus driver stared at my coin like I'd just given him the Hope Diamond, and then asked "So...where to?"

Of course, I couldn't recall the name of my stop, and found myself stammering "The roundabout. You know...you know..Lawmill Gardens!"

Again, the driver paused, then asked, "So...one single half fare?"

I blurted something out in the affirmative, grabbed the food, and collapsed into a seat. I spent the rest of the drive unloading everything from my purse and searching it over and over. No bus pass.

When I got back, I collapsed on the couch and recited my incompetence. The girls climbed all over me and brought me stuffed animals. 

"I'm never doing that again!"

"What went so wrong?" Mommy was heating up the pizza.

"To start with, I lost the pass."

"You lost my bus pass?"

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! I searched my purse and it's just not there..."

"Did you check your pockets?"

I stuck my hands into my pants pockets, and sure enough, there was the bus pass. 

But--the pizza was great!

And that is the tale of my incompetence. You may now laugh.

edit

Pics have been added to the Falkirk Wheel post.

Half owre, half owre...

... to Aberdour,

'Tis fifty fathoms deep;

and there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens

Wi' the Scots lords at his feet!

Daddy being away in Norway, we went to Aberdour for a weekend trip. They were having some very neat historical reenactments, done by the Historic Saltire Society. We arrived very early, so we had plenty of time for a leisurely tea (snack. I'm getting fancy), and some wandering about the castle grounds.

About noon, they had a little introduction to the day's events. It was terribly wordy, involving lots of dialogue between the two main reenactors. (I hesitate to say 'actors'. The reenactments were very cool, and very accurate, but the actual acting part clearly wasn't their specialty.)

There was some more time to wander around before the first real event, so we checked out some of the exhibits. There seemed to be several family units, each with their own tent. The kids ran around in tunics and bare feet while the parents demonstrated medieval crafts. The weaving tent was distributing little mini-braiders, and Maeve had lots of fun making friendship bracelets.

The first event was at the "food tent", with a demonstration of the types of food a serf and a lord would have had in the fourteenth century. (Actually, the serf's food looked a lot like what we had just eaten: bread, cheese, fruit.) Brigid got bored halfway through, so we went for a walk through the castle gardens to the doocot (dove cote).

Next on the agenda was a demonstration of what a medieval lady would have worn. The others headed over,  but I stopped at the forge and watched them mold pewter belt buckles with period methods. It was extremely cool, and very amusing; it was the 'apprentice' doing it and he was incapable of getting the molds level.

The last exhibition was over at the armory. The lady who ran the armory had been very friendly earlier, had let Maeve and me handle all the equipment (Maeve got her braids tangled in the helmets), and sought us out afterwards to give us Robert the Bruce pins. The exhibition was so-so, mostly involving a lot of physical humor with an incompetent squire.

The jackpot of the day was the final battle. First they invited all the children to come 'enlist' in the Scottish army. They handed them foam swords and marched them around the field once, which I believe is a fairly accurate representation of the quality of both the weaponry and the training of the day. Then they brought out the actors--big, burly men with real swords and armor. Those were supposed to be the English army. They gave the kids the signal to charge, and of course they were all over the soldiers! Maeve had a great time whacking her prone enemies with the foam sword. After they sent the kids back, they had the real mock combat, but that wasn't nearly as fun.

It was deeply amusing to listen to them complaining about the heat on the beautiful 70-degree day. (We still get to shock people by saying "You know, it's getting near to 40 degrees [Celsius] back home.") We're enjoying this cool damp weather. Can't wait to get back in August...

--Sophia

We just got back from a day trip to Dundee. It was less than spectacular, being rather a combination of tourist-y shops and very little of any actual interest to see. We visited the art museum. They had a very nice Rossetti, "The Death of Beatrice."

Maeve liked Hornel's "The Blackbird Song."

Mommy's choice was Pettie's "Disbanded," which features on the cover of her edition of Waverley.

I would have to pick Holl's "Funeral of the First-born."

When Brigid tired of art, we tried their used bookstores (unspectacular) before heading home. Now the two little ones are running around the yard, Brigid quite naked. No--wait--not naked--she's wearing boots. Never mind, then.

Edit: Here are some photos. 

The Falkirk Wheel and some of the boats

The Falkirk Wheel from inside the boat

The view from the air

The Devers in midair

[Maeve writing]

When we got to the Falkirk Wheel, we waited in line to get onto a boat. The boat sailed over to the Falkirk Wheel and went into it. When the wheel began to turn, the boat was lifted up in a tub of water. The tub was on wheels so that the boat didn't tip. It was a covered boat, with lots of seats in it. It was a little bit slow, so watching the boats was almost as fun. 

Afterwards, we had a picnic on the grass and played on a playground there. Then we had some ice cream before we left. We went back on buses and trains. 

The End

---

Sophia writing:

I promised Maeve I would type her post just like she said it, so you have it verbatim.  However, for some further clarification:

The Falkirk Wheel is, according to the tour guide, the "first and only" rotating boat lift. It replaces a total of 11 locks, takes 10 minutes to complete a full rotation, using the same amount of energy as boiling 5 electric teakettles. It seems to be used solely for tourism purposes, and if you reserve tickets, you can actually ride up in it. I have to agree with Maeve that watching the other boats go up from outside during the picnic was more fun: the boat was very small, very hot, and it was hard to see anything that was going on.

The other day, we took a walk down Lade Braes to the downtown toy store. There we purchased a bouncy ball, now greatly beloved of the girls, and an assemble-it-yourself toy model of the siege machine Warwolf. 

Warwolf, for the ignorant, is probably the largest trebuchet ever. Since it was used by King Edward "Longshanks" against the Scottish in the siege of Stirling Castle (which, yes, we have visited), we're justifying this as part of our Scottish history unit.

Maeve and I assembled it together. Now, this kit was a LOT nicer than most American do-it-yourself kits. (That is, apart from the innate superiority in that it was a SIEGE ENGINE.) It came with a set of plans on which to lay out the pieces to achieve proper angles, and the directions were very clear and explicit. The only annoying thing was that it included about a dozen dowels, all identical except for a few millimeters' difference in length, and I kept getting them mixed up. Which of course entailed prying them out, trying to dissolve the glue, removing washers from them, and then starting over.

The final result was, indeed, a very convincing trebuchet, and after some trial and error, Maeve has been able to get it to fire for several yards. (The engine itself is less than a foot long.) 

And now, of course, Guess Who is disassembling it. (Hint: It's not Maeve.)

--Sophia

Lade Braes

[Josh posting]

A quick tour of my path into work, which is mostly a jog along the Lade Braes, a footpath which leads into the center of town.

A view of Little Balone as I leave in the morning:

And our yard:

Balone House from the front, with Little Balone mostly hidden by the tree on the left:

The view on reaching the main road, out over the hills:

Looking down the hill along the main road:

The roundabout where the main road meets Bogward Road:

Our bus stop:

The entrance to the Lade Braes:

A playground shortly after entering the Lade Braes:

Up a slight hill:

Law Mill Pond, sometimes with ducks:

A stone bridge over the Kinness Burn:

The Kinness Burn running alongside the path:

Hallow Hill:

Through a glade:

Bench and flowers:

The Kinness Burn:

A tree along the path:

And another:

Small rapids in the Kinness Burn:

More flowers:

A fountain:

Another pond (I think it's part of the St. Andrews Botanic Gardens):

Part of another playground (what Brigid seems to call the "little saving for later playground):

Starting to enter town at this point:

Some Scottish gardening:

The pink on the ground here is blossoms dropped from the trees:

This section of the Lade Braes goes by a row of houses:

Another garden:

Now in the town center, looking along South Street:

A church on South Street:

Market Street, the main shopping district in St. Andrews:

The view from The Scores, the road that goes right along the ocean. Looking out on the North Sea:

Edgecliffe, the philosophy department building. Edgecliffe looks out over the North Sea:

There are two entrances to Edgecliffe, depending on your preferred brand of philosophy:

The main quad of St. Andrews:

Tower across the street from my office:

The Arche research center, where my office is:

Total distance: about 2.3 miles. 15:38 best time for the run in, so far.