Day 1: In which we are tired
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Now imagine that for 6.5 hours of the flight from Pearson to Glasgow. Parents who bring toddlers onto flights with nothing at all to do, then promptly ignore their wailing and screeching, should buy everyone on the plane several drinks. Parents who let their toddlers run up and down the aisle, while completely ignoring them should be put into stocks upon arrival at their destination. I would want to throw rotten vegetables at them.
At one point during the flight, the head attendant actually picked up the kid and returned him to his seat. I don't know what he said to the parents, but the running around ended. Sadly, the screeching every couple of minutes did not.
After a 6.5 hour flight, plus and extra 40 minutes on the plane because we were called back to the gate to pick up a late passenger (who knew they did that?) we arrived in Glasgow with absolutely 0 minutes of sleep. Fortunately, Glasgow is still an amazing airport that Pearson could take lessons from, so our luggage and driver were awaiting us once we got through customs.
Our driver, Thuar, whisked us across the rush hour of Glasgow (it was now 8:10 in the morning) and over to our hotel, the Courtyard Marriott West Edinburgh, with absolutely no trouble. As it was long before our rooms were to be ready, we ate breakfast and tried to put coffee into Dad as soon as possible. It was an epic crisis coffee-wise.
As Edinburgh is full of Swifties (Taylor is playing the next three nights) there is not a room left anywhere. It also means we weren't able to get into our rooms until nearly 2. Dad took a nap on the lobby couches. Sadly, there is not a picture of that.
Before our room entry, we had a coffee meet and greet with our Mainland Scotland tour guide, Morag, who presented us with an itinerary we found quite acceptable. There wasn't a rush. We would get to see what we wanted to see, and we wouldn't be late getting back to the hotel. One of the three aforementioned things turned out to be a lie. More to come on that.
After napping for five hours, which was not enough, we made our way down to dinner, and Dad had difficulty staying awake. This time, there is a picture of that.
Dinner was a quiet affair, and then it was back to our rooms and back to bed. We needed to be up at what some people would call a reasonable hour to meet Morag the next morning. By that time, we were not reasonable people. We were tired people.
Day 2: It all went uphill after that
At the terribly unreasonable hour of 7am, we were up and about, but so slow moving, we didn't make it down to breakfast until quarter after 8. Dad ate in a record amount of time, but did not get enough coffee. Still, somehow, within minutes of 9:30, we met Morag in front of our hotel.
Our trip down to the Borders was beautiful, and very full of sheep. Our first stop was Branxholme Castle. For those of you who were unaware, Mum is a very, very proud graduate of Branksome Hall School, which took its name from the castle. Mum would like it mentioned that in 1955 the Earl and Countess of Dalkeith came to Branksome Hall and presented a lintel identical to one at the castle. She was visiting Branxholme exactly 62 years since her graduation day. Did I mention she was a very, very proud graduate?
Our arrival did not seem like a good omen because it was spitting rain, and The Orangery at Branxholme, where we were to eat lunch, was closed, because the local village, Hawick (pronounced Hoick) was having its annual ride around the borders of the march. This is a thing they do in Scotland, apparently, so everything in Hawick was closed. Also, at first, we thought no one was at the castle.
Thinking Mum was going to be terribly disappointed, suddenly the owner drove up, then his wife answered the door a moment later. Everyone on staff, except for them, was attending the riding, but they were happy to let us in and have a look around. The first room they took us to was the literal Branxholme Hall, where Mum found a copy of the lintel from Branksome. The hall is still used for small weddings, and Burns night.
Yes, that bag is from the Branksome Hall School Alum shop, just in case you were still unaware she is a very, very proud graduate.
Mum wrote a novel in the guest book and assures me the next time we come to Scotland, we're staying in the B&B part of the castle. My arm will not need to be twisted to do this.
As we were about to leave, the earlier rain had tapered off to the lightest of drizzles, and Mum found the original lintel on the outside of the castle. Of course, her picture had to be taken, because, and I know this is a shock, she is a very, very proud graduate of Branksome Hall. (Also, she wants to be able to show the girls at the next reunion because she's the only one from her graduating class who has made it to the castle.)
Leaving Branxholme, Mum declared it would be her highlight of her day, no matter what else we did for reasons that have been stated, repeatedly.
Our next stop was Hermitage Castle, which has a lot to do with the Elliotts, which is Mum's side of the family. We found out they didn't live there. No, the Elliotts were serious bastards, and spent all their time in the castle in the dungeon, usually for stealing someone's cattle. Literally every single person we met today was happy to tell us how horrible Mum's family is, and they told us with glee.
Yes, the second picture is of the hole to the dungeon. We weren't sure Mum should even come in the castle, not because of the slippery moss all over the stones on the floor, but because the place would likely come down around her, being an she was an Elliott walking through the front door.
Cattle-less, we then headed to the village of Newcastleton for a very late lunch. For some reason, our timing wound up completely thrown off, which I'm sure is a shock to no one.
The lovely owners of Branxholme suggested a cafe called The Olive Tree, which makes some extremely yummy food and epic drinks. Cue the picture.
That is a salted-caramel hot chocolate. For some reason, Dad did not want to share.
Off next to Ferniehirst Castle, where one part of the Kerr family lives. The other part lives in Floors Castle, and for a long, long time, those two parts didn't get along. Something about stubborn men and arguments. I'm sure this is a surprising revelation for those who know Kerr (or Carre, as we spell it) men.
We were supposed to see only the outside and the grounds, since they were preparing for guests the next day and we were fine with that. Dad got to pose at his ancestral castle, and enjoy the beautiful flowers.
For those of you who can't read what it says on the door, it reads, "Kerr Family Association: Borders Branch."
We were preparing to leave when a young man and his cute dog, Molly, arrived and asked us if we would like him to call his dad, who happens to be the groundskeeper, and see if he'll let us into the castle.
Yes. Yes we did. First, the groundskeeper let us into the family museum which included pictures, family trees, and tartans.
Next, he let us into the small chapel, accessible from the outside.
Suddenly, the groundskeeper asks me if Dad can handle the stairs to the kitchen entrance, or if he'd rather use a stairlift. One stairlift ride later, Dad was inside Ferniehirst Castle. We saw the family library, where the books are so old they shouldn't be touched without gloves, the main hall, and the main entrance to the castle. The whole time the groundskeeper is giving us the history of the family, the art, and even the portraits on the wall.
Talk about luck. We should've bought a lottery ticket. Two personal tours, and the rain held off completely for our last two visits? One unexpected cafe with top-of-the-line food? Mum getting books on Branxholme and Ferniehirst Castle, as well as one about the history of the Kerrs? Could we possibly top this tomorrow?
Our guide Morag was kind enough to say no matter how much planning she did, she would never have been able to plan something like this, so just enjoy it while it's happening.
On our (very late) way back to Edinburgh, we stopped briefly to see one of the four famous sacked Borders abbeys, Jedburgh. It was just a quick look-see which was fine with us because we were ready to head back (it was nearly two hours later than the itinerary plan).
Morag took the scenic route back to the hotel, for both scenic and practical reasons. Edinburgh, being awash in Swifties and people driving in to see Taylor and Travis because they had to get a room in a nearby town, the main routes would be clogged. The route took us through Dalkeith, and all I have to say about that is the Dalkeith estate is massive. We drove from end to end of the town, and came across one entrance to the estate driving in, and another while leaving. The town of Dalkeith is not small either.
Arriving back at the hotel at 7, we had a quick dinner, and then retired to write this blog.
Oh, one important thing to mention. Not only did Mum graduate on this day 62 years ago, but also had another major event 59 years ago: she met Dad. Their first words to each other? "How do you do?" And then they shook hands. They reenacted it so everyone could get an idea what it looked like.
A few last bits of important info:
Horses seen: 28 and a half.
Shetland ponies seen: 1 (Hence the half)
Sheep seen: 10000000
Dog: 1
Wow, what a busy and memorable day! Great blog.
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