Tomorrow, Wednesday January 25th is cause for celebration here in Scotland. It's the poet, Robert Burns', birthday. And with his birthday will come plenty of Burns' suppers, shared pints and poem writing. If Burns' birthday gets you in the mood for a little poem writing please share, who knows you may be lucky enough to have your poem featured on this blog! (So, I realize it's not as exciting as winning an actual poetry contest where you are published in an actual publication but do it for Robert Burns).
To rouse my inner poetry muse I decided to take in some Scottish sights over the weekend. The week itself having been filled with adjusting back to the American Studies course and continued reunions with everyone here in Glasgow. I have always been a fan of horse racing, it's exciting, unpredictable and has a whole lot of buildup for a few moments-- much like Christmas. While I have been able to attend a few horse races back in the States I had never attended a dog race. I had heard that there was a dog racing track in Rutherglen, a town just on the outskirts of Glasgow. However, the dog races had become one of those elusive activities that I feared would always be talked about but never attended. After, perusing the track's website and discovering a coupon for entry, three pounds towards a bet, a racing forum and a Scottish pie and chips all for only £10!!! It was officially time for the races!
The website warned that the track had a dress code and that dress code was smart casual. Never wanting to be underdressed my racing companion and I put on jeans and nice, somewhat dressy, shirts. Worried that the jeans might be too casual for "smart casual" we made our way to the racetrack. Fighting through sheets of rain we uncovered the cafe where we were to take in our chips and Scottish pie. Taking our seats in brightly colored booths we bathed in the local scene as we waited on our food. Looking around it was quickly made obvious that the "smart casual" as laid out on the website was not taken overly seriously considering we were the only people not in track pants. Our food was delivered in less than five minutes and that certainly should have been a clue as to the quality of the Scottish pie. This particular Scottish pie was the most horrorific pie to ever cross either of our lips. While eating/choking down our food we poured over the racing forum to lay out which bets were to be placed and which dogs would fill those bets.
I have a theory, names are very, very important. If your name is John Fitzgerald Kennedy you will probably grow up to be President and if your name is Houndingdownthetrack you should probably win a dog race or two. Names are a clear indicator of one's life path. And, it is for this reason that when placing bets names are the most clear indicators of winners. After a brief argument as to whom would get to claim "Whistling Kettle" (I won because apparently "Spud my Boy" is a better name) it was time to place our bets and take our seats. The first few races went by without any wins. While these races brought no wins it did present the opportunity to form a relationship with the man in the betting window. As the races passed this man behind the glass continued to find us more and more hilarious and my bets became more and more elaborate. I made it my goal to place every bet possible throughout the night's races--a win, a forecast (1st and 2nd), a reverse forecast, a trio (1,2,3) and a trio all ways--I completed this goal. After a ridiculously long dry spell Richard was the first to claim victory... with Spud my Boy (Seriously!).
I have another theory-There are certain occasions in which adults should get to act like children. These occasions include greeting someone at an airport and when winning a dog race. When I finally, and I mean finally, won a race I was beyond excited. I can guarantee that every person in that stadium knew that the dog that won was the dog I had chosen. The races continued as did our bad luck. If you have any doubt in our luck note the following fact, during one race our bets ecompassed every single dog in the race except dog number one, guess which dog won the race?
Before attending the races we had a made a small wager of our own. Whomever won the most races (number of races not money netted) would be crowned the winner of the evening. The last race of the evening was upon us and we had both selected one winner. Somehow still full of hope we placed our bets and took our seats for the final race. The dogs bursted from the gate beginning their journey around the track. The dogs rounded the corner, and miracle of all miracles, Richard and I's picks were in the lead. In fact, they were neck and neck! With a sudden burst of energy my legend of a dog pressed ahead to victory claiming the prize for not only himself but for me as well. I felt as though I should slide into the winner's circle sharing it with the best dog in the World (besides Tucker of course). As I was relishing in my victory I was told that my dog cheated. What?! How is that even possible. "It's true as they came around the bend I saw your dog say something mean to my dog and then stick out his paw to trip my poor innocent, would be winner dog".. Apparently, you are also allowed to act like a child when your dog loses a race.
Still relishing in the victory of the dog races the rest of the weekend seemed to fly by. Sundays are always perfect for a small little adventure especially one of historic nature. Visiting a castle seemed the best way to pass Sunday afternoon. The train was scheduled to leave Central Station at 9:34, arriving at the station at 9:30 meant a quick dash through the train station, a run down a few sets of escalators, a rushed purchasing of tickets and the missing of one train by 30 seconds. Fortunately, the next train was scheduled to arrive in a little under half an hour. The train disembarked in a small town a little over a mile from the castle. I really enjoyed winding through the roads of the town on the way to the castle.
This particular town, oddly enough, reminded me of many American suburbs.There were walking paths lining the roads and neighborhood clusters were situated just off the road. The houses were slightly larger than many of the houses I have seen in other Scottish towns. The town also housed extremely literal street names. The train station was on station road, the church on church road and the castle on castle road.. this of course made navigating the town quite simple. After having visited many castles throughout this last year there are a few things one comes to associate and expect when visiting a castle. Usually there is some sort of incline to summit,however, Bothwell castle did not have any type of incline. Instead, the castle was surrounded by a dog park (Only in Scotland can dogs frolic in the shadow of a castle!). The fact that the castle was on a flat plane was so surprising that while purchasing tickets this matter was discussed with the guide. Apparently, when the castle was built it was actually on a slight incline that no longer exists.
As previously mentioned, there are times that I wish certain circumstances excited me as much as they did when I was a child. On our way home from the castle there were two little boys going into Glasgow with their mom and dad, they were outrageously excited to be riding on a train. Mostly because they had been told that they would get to go through the BIGGEST TUNNEL EVER! When we did drive through the BIGGEST TUNNEL EVER.. one of the boys who probably was about five yelled loudly "MUM THIS REALLY IS THE BIGGEST TUNNEL EVER.. IT'S THE BIGGEST TUNNEL I'VE EVER SEEN IN MY WHOLE ENTIRE LIFE!" Five years is a lot of time to be going through tunnels, so obviously this tunnel was huge! But, these boys made me think of all the funny things I have heard children say on public transportation over the last fews months, below are a few of the very best.
1. A little boy is sitting with his grandmother on the subway when suddenly he turns to her and goes "Hey! Who's driving this thing?!" ---good question little boy, good question.
2. Again on the subway a little girl is talking about riding the subway and she proclaims "Oh yeah, I love this thing! It has magic doors!"
3. Finally, back to the two little boys on the train the ticket taker decided to print the boys their very own ticket. The boys got so excited and bounce up and down in their seats loudly stating that the ticket is the best thing they have ever had.... let's just say not everyone on the train was that excited to get their very own train ticket!
