My family had a good laugh at my misspellings from yesterday…Neapolitan’s Waterloo (too much ice cream?) should have been Napoleon— ok, ok, I was typing without my glasses on (which makes a good excuse for all past and future errors)
Today’s Scottish story comes from the end of the day, when, after golf, we met up with a wedding in our hotel. Lots of kilts in the groom’s tartan, lots of very tall men ducking under doorways, and lots and lots of pints. One posed for me late in the evening because I sat out in the lounge doing my best to sketch the hearth in just the place so as not to intrude, but to have a view of any overflow, and to hear the music, of course!
By sitting where I was, I think I got to know most of the wedding party. The very, very tall woman even wished me goodnight when I got up to leave. The bride blew me kisses when I congratulated her. But when one of the groomsmen said the groom was an idiot, I thought a fight might break out and decided it was time for bed. The pipe and guitar band was traditional, fun, and raucous. Of course, the music continued well after midnight, and we didn’t miss a note even from our very secluded digs. In the morning, I asked when the party had ended. The hostess looked at her watch, then with a wink said, “Just now, I think!”
Golf today was at a very northern eastern Inverallochy. I’d read about this course in one of my many books, The Hidden Gems in Scotland. It turns out that it was 18 holes, then 9, then 18 again. After the war, the club decided to expand the course again and so (ironically) took up a collection for the necessary $400 to buy back the land from the Catholic Church. The two 9s are very different. 5 fairly flat holes, followed by 9 middle holes that are completely interesting, up and down, and with ocean views.
Johnny clearly had the best game, but John and I each had some good holes and reasons to cheer. Then, just as I mentioned the weather, it started to rain hard for one hole. We donned what rain gear we brought, but we were completely dry by the time we got nearly to the car, when the big one hit and we were all soaked again!
After a lovely lunch at Cruden Bay (such gorgeous ocean views and lots of golf to look down on from the high Clubhouse), we decided to go off to the Convict prison— for a tour. Not the jolliest of tours, but the best part was when a woman and children were leaving, and I said, jokingly, “Have a good time?”
“Oh yes,” she said. I grew up in the shadows of this place and remember the riots. It was nice to finally see inside. So there it is. The riots were a thing.
Tomorrow, even further north, if the weather will let us!