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.

Gratuitous tongue twister

Tongue twister of the day:

The Firth of Forth is further north.

Say that three times fast.

--Sophia

Our trip today was to Loch Leven, an extremely historic castle situated on a picturesque island off the coast of Scotland. Built about 1300, this castle saw such distinguished historic personages as Robert the Bruce, William Wallace, and Mary Queen of Scots.

Personally, I was mainly intrigued by the fact that William Wallace once conquered Loch Leven; but then, I've always been militarily minded. The girls were torn between being Mary Queen of Scots languishing in captivity, and rescuing her. 

The castle is in a fairly good state of preservation; although the outer defenses are long gone, you can still walk right up into the personal apartments of Mary Queen of Scots, and look out the window from which she doubtlessly once gazed upon the relentless waves...

Having had plenty of fun climbing up and down narrow, railing-less staircases and giggling over slop troughs, the girls chose as their primary occupation: pursuing partridges. For unclear historical reasons, the island is populated with large, lovely pheasants.

Pheasants?

The only explanation I have been able to come up with was the following:

According to my sources, Mary Queen of Scots was very fond of falconry on this island, and often visited (voluntarily) before her confinement in the castle. Hawking, perhaps, for pheasants? Perhaps (one dreams) for the ancestors of these very pheasants?

All right, probably not.

Pics coming soon.

Sophia

Pics from my Confirmation. The priest with me in the first picture is the amazing Canon Halloran, who gives very...intense...homilies in an equally intense Scottish brogue. 

Special thanks to Mrs. Cogdell (a.k.a., to Maeve, 'Mommy Amy'), my sponsor in absentia.

Yesterday we visited Stirling Castle, home to King James V of Scotland, among other illustrious monarchs. The main feature of the day was a series of (semi-) historical reenactments. These seemed to be arranged so that one girly reenactment (The Queen gets a new dress! Grooming of the sixteenth century!) and one interesting reenactment (Arms and Armor; Crime and Punishment) are going on at the same time. Guess which ones we attended.

The first show, in the Great Hall, introduced the cast of characters: King James V; his young wife Mary of Guise; two of his advisors; and several soldiers. It tended more towards vaudeville than reenactment, and sitting in the front row turned out to be a bit of a mistake. I'm guessing the actors thought I was somewhat older than fourteen.

The second show moved outside to Queen Mary's Garden; in this one, two of the soldiers demonstrated period weapons. They used real muskets, minus only the bullets, then moved on to pikes, swords and handaxes. It finished with a faux-combat with axes and shields. It wasn't great as these things go--it was fairly obvious that the actors were aiming for the shields--but as an unexpected touch of realism, one of the actors missed and hit the other in the face, cutting his lip quite badly. Fun fun fun. They let us ask questions afterwards; I asked if their weapons were full weight, and they said that they were. I was thoroughly impressed, and very pleased when they let me handle their sword and axe. Then one of them got into a very graphic description of the uses of a pike, and poor Maeve ran off crying. So we went to get lunch.

After a bag of 'crisps', as they call them here, we moved on to War and Diplomacy. This show also tended towards the vaudeville side, but it also involved a weapons demonstration, so all were quite satisfied. (Except for Maeve of course. When they started going into the uses of the pike again, "Through the eye into the brain. Through the mouth up into the brain. Through the stomach and twist in the guts..." she was near tears again.) 

Last of all was the only really historical show, featuring King James in his last hours angsting about his lack of a son, followed by his widow telling about her young daughter, Mary Queen of Scots-to-be. 

 "I don't know if the nobles will follow a girl. Some will, and some won't."

"We will, Ma'am! And you? [to the audience] Do you want Mary?"

"YES!"

"Will you follow Mary?"

"YES!"

And those of us Americans who fought a revolutionary war to be free from England were left going "Um--no, actually."

Finally we got to visit the military museum, featuring broadswords which had seen war and real Scottish dirks. Yours truly was very pleased.

--Sophia

Let's talk about food

[Sharon posting]

Because when you're taking three picky little (or not so little) eaters to a foreign country, vegetarian eaters at that, what you think about is, What on earth can we feed them? And how much is this going to cost?

I need not have feared. Scottish bread and dairy products are as rich, flavorful, rich, cheap, and rich as I'd remembered them from childhood. In fact, Brigid, poor thing, spent our first twelve hours here throwing up from a combination of stress, sleep deprivation, jet lag (she was indifferent to our insistence that you really have to try to get a nap during the brief nighttime on the plane over the Atlantic), and then a bowl of the Scottish milk that Josh innocently gave her without looking at the fat content on the label. At least they homogenize it now; thirty years ago you had to mix in that thick layer of cream on the top before you could drink it.

Sophia discovered our first morning that a single scone (no relation at all to the semi-edible things they call "scones" in the U.S.) filled her up for the morning. The cheese can only be eaten in thin, meltingly delicious slices, and is less than half the price of the Texas cheddar. The European Union has translated into 15p each for buttery Portuguese pears and dark and juicy Spanish oranges. A big sack of Scottish carrots--odd-looking, being short and uniformly thick, and much less woody than American carrots--goes for a pound.

Biscuits occupy a whole aisle in the grocery store. The girls are delighted to discover McVitie's chocolate digestives, Cadbury's jaffas, cream sandwiches... tea has replaced snacktime in style around here. What with having to walk everywhere (it's a quarter mile just to get to the bus stop, and the bus usually leaves you with plenty of walking to do yet, and Josh runs the two miles to his office and back), you can eat about what you want with no guilt.

And for those of us not fettered by cruel vegetarianism, ponder the humble Scotch pie--potato and beef in a pastry crust--fresh-baked daily for 25p per. Mmmmm.

I wonder how many of them I can fit into my suitcase. Next to the McVities.

Baby interlude.

For your amusement...

Photo Daddy took of Brigid

Photo Brigid took of Daddy

Yes, Brigid has figured out how to work the camera. She took about a dozen pictures before we could get it away from her. Now we'll have to hide that from her too..

Sophia

This Friday we took the bus downtown to St. Andrews castle. On a hill with a spectacular view of the North Sea, the castle is mostly in ruins due to seawater erosion. Surprisingly, the viewing was quite a bit of a free-for-all; once we paid our admission, they sent us over to the castle with no tour guide and very little explanation. Signs were minimal, and there were no railings keeping you back; you can go right up to everything. (There was a grating over the mouth of the bottle dungeon.) Maeve even got to climb up onto the wall.

The most interesting part was underground. The signs informed us that during a siege of the castle, the attackers decided to dig a mine under the outer wall. The defenders could see the entrance of the mine and hear the digging, and guided by only that, started a countermine. After three false starts, they finally managed to intercept the mine. The castle eventually was lost, but the tunnels remain, and we got to go down into them! 

The tunnel was about forty yards long and four feet in diameter, with minimal modification (the floor was worn down somewhat from tourists, there was electric lighting, and a ladder at one point); it was also extremely damp and slippery. Maeve was terrified to go down the ladder, but she was persuaded, and voted the mine "the best part, except for the dungeon."

Afterwards we went down to the beach. There was of course no swimming in the water of the cold North Sea, but the little ones enjoyed collecting seaglass. The beach was also littered with gigantic, sunset-colored barnacles. (You can't imagine how hard it was to persuade Maeve to limit herself to three.)

Today, if we have time, we'll be heading to downtown St. Andrews again to explore the ruined cathedral. Stay tuned.

--Sophia

The view of the North Sea

Maeve and Mommy explore the mine

Maeve climbs the castle

The castle well