The Greatest Sport on Earth and That Little Rugby Thing

Knowing what to say to people can be difficult. There are numerous situations in life that call for one to provide comfort, support, encouragement, humor and meet a plethora of other needs through spoken word. While I do believe people put much effort into saying the "right thing", they at times fail miserably. In fact, I know there has been many a time when I have wanted so badly to say the "right thing" and instead have produced the exact opposite. Bearing this in mind, it can provide great humor to observe others scrambling to say the "right thing" to you. When I was preparing to leave for Scotland I was asked a great number of questions. I was overwhelmed and amazed at the great outpouring of love, support and pure excitement on the part of friends, family and a time or two even strangers over my upcoming adventure. However, I was also the recipient of what I am sure were questions meant with only the kindest of intentions that went slightly astray.

Kind Hearted Individual: "Are you super terrified of going all the way across the ocean for a year?!"

Me: "Of course I am a little nervous but more excited than anything"

Kind Hearted Individual: "But what if you get over there and can't understand anyone and aren't able to communicate with another human-being for a year? What if you find the University to be 1,000 times harder than the University here and you find out that you really have no business getting your Masters? What if the food is so different you develop an intense allergy to all things British and can't eat? What if you can't breathe Scotland's air and you die on arrival..... I mean, really, you  must be terrified!!

Me: "Well, I certainly wasn't before..."

The other conversation that frequently occurred dealt with the possibility of overwhelming homesickness.

Kind Hearted Individual: There are going to be so many things that I am absolutely positive you will miss from the US!

Me: I am sure there will be a few things but a year really isn't that long.

Kind Hearted Individual: Really though won't you miss your friends, family, driving, the sales tax not being included before purchase, American TV... (This list would continue for quite awhile until I finally broke in with a response).

Me: Being away from my family and friends will be difficult but fortunately there is skype for that... Outside of that.. well... I will miss my dog. Oh and I will absolutely miss March Madness.

March Madness, a true American gem. I am by no means a sports fanatic. Sure, I understand what a first down is, can tell you how to figure a batting average and know the difference between a goal-keeper and a defender (the different outfits help). Growing up with my father and two brothers these were not skills instead they were survival tactics. Football, baseball, soccer, rugby, swimming, and all those other sports, well they are entertaining enough. But, there is one sport I love and that sport is college basketball. I know a great many people will disagree with the following statement but College Basketball is by far and away the absolute best type of basketball. Basketball is wildly misunderstood by the rest of the World.(Before I get letters of complaint, there is a developing of love for Basketball outside of the USA, Glasgow even has their own professional team!) Outside of America many consider basketball to be too high scoring, a game with little to no defense, completely uninteresting and unexciting. I believe this skewed perception is due to the overexposure of the NBA. Sure, the NBA is basketball but it's not College Basketball. There isn't the excitement, the championing of the underdog, the tradition, the intense passion of the student body and there isn't much defense. There is no basketball like College Basketball and there is no College Basketball team like the KU Jayhawks. As we draw closer and closer to March and the college basketball games become more and more intense I do miss being surrounding by a state full of college basketball fans. However, much like the missing of my family and friends there is a cure and that cure is skype. Saturday evening was a huge evening for my team of choice, it was the final border war, the war that has been raging since the Civil War between Kansas and Missouri is now waged a few times each year on the basketball court.

After a few failed attempts at streaming the game it was time to call upon the family for assistance. My loving parents positioned their webcam directly in front of their TV so that Richard and I were able to watch the entire game via skype. After an abysmal first half it appeared as though KU had absolutely no hope of pulling out a victory. But, in true KU fashion they came rallying back and the game was launched into overtime. While I may not claim to be much of a sports fan, Richard certainly is. And my love of College Basketball has been the source of much mockery and disgusted looks throughout the year. Despite this, I knew that a little bit of patience and of course the overwhelming greatness/magic of the Jayhawks would win this epic fight. It is safe to say that Richard no longer considers College Basketball the "worst sport ever." By the end of the game the self-proclaimed hater of all things dealing with "the so called sport of basketball" was cheering, pacing, biting nails, crossing fingers and had an impressive grasp on the rules of the game. With one convert to the game under my belt I am looking forward to March and the creation of brackets. I am positive that bracketology will sweep Glasgow by storm.

For a fantastic article on Saturday's game and a little more history of the "Border Wars" here is an article from the Kansas City Star: http://www.kansascity.com/2012/02/25/3452571/the-border-war-we-wont-see-a-rivalry.html

To continue the sport themed weekend, Sunday required a trip to Edinburgh to attend a particular "Rugby Thing." In all actuality, I knew this rugby match was important and part of the Six Nations Tournament but insisted upon calling it "that little rugby thing" for a month for one particular reason. The exact same reason is behind why each and every year when the men in my family gather around the television to watch the "World Series" I insist upon arguing that it shouldn't be called the World Series because the World does not participate. And this "reason" would be the great reaction of men who care desperately about these "little sporting things." The Six Nations Tournament, shockingly enough, consists of six nations. These nations include Scotland, Wales, England, Ireland, France and Italy. The tournament takes place over a period where each of the six national teams plays all other teams participating in the tournament with home field advantage occurring on alternating years. Scotland's year for home field advantage meant that they would be playing at Murrayfield against the French team. To properly prepare for this spectacle I received my first ever rugby shirt. The journey to Edinburgh was a bit of a mission. The Glasgow train station was absolutely packed with fans eager to make their way to the rugby match.

One of the aspects of sport that I truly love is the fans. Being deposited at Haymarket train station meant about a mile walk to the stadium. This walk meant we were accompanied by a great number of Scottish and French fans. If ever there is a place to see national stereotypes played upon rugby matches may most certainly be that place. There were kilts of all color and fashion, men dressed as braveheart, Nessie hats, tartan scarves, bagpipes, saltires flying in all directions and the singing of Loch Lommond repeatedly throughout the day. Have no fear, the French stereotypes were also in full force. French men and women sported red, white and blue, berets, chicken costumes (their mascot.. cockerels to be exact), while drinking wine and smoking cigarettes. While waiting in line for a drink I was bumped into by a French man who quickly exclaimed "Pardon! Excuse-Moi Mademoiselle!" To which Richard shook his head stating "Is it just me or do you feel like we are back and Paris." And, in fact the French were so well represented that it did feel like we were back in Paris or at least a bizarre French/Scottish hybrid Paris.

As per usual, the sporting master had arranged us impressive seats and the match was impressive for a number of reasons. One, I actually understood enough to follow the position of the ball and understood the scoring of the game, vast improvements from the last rugby match. Two, the fans provided a never-ending parade of excitement. Three, overall the match was really exciting and Scotland and France changed the lead numerous times (Scotland ended up losing, unfortunately!). Four, there was a band, fireworks and the singing of national anthems. Finally, there was a French Streaker.

 These pictures are before the match started. By the time the match began the stands were completely full!

 Behind the rugby players are the "Red Hot Chili Pipers." They were the opening band... and yes they really were called The Red Hot Chili Pipers, I can't make this stuff up.

 This was one of the many French chickens. This particular chicken was sitting in front of us, I was a really big fan.

 The chicken and the Scottish Bagpipers.

"The Little Rugby Thing" ended up being a really nice time. Upon leaving the stadium I thanked Richard for dragging me along but had to admit to being slightly disappointed that I still didn't see any blood. (Come on! There is enough American in me to believe that Rugby is the most violent sport ever and basically consists entirely of fist brawls and blood). To this little comment I received an in-depth description of the first play of the match in which blood was apparently spewing from one of the player's heads... how did I manage to miss that? After this description I received a slightly worried questioning as to why I was so intrigued at the prospect of seeing blood. I just wanted all my stereotypical viewpoints to come true!



Feeding my Zebra basil and my Jaguar oregano.

As one can imagine I spend an inordinate amount of time discussing my accent. Well, defending it more than discussing it. First, people are shocked that I don't have a Southern accent. Once again, Kansas is not in the South... rather, the Midwest. Yes, "mid-west" makes absolutely no sense considering Kansas is right, smack in the middle of the states... but, still it's the mid-west. When first landing on this small island I was appalled when people would mention my "accent."  Midwesterners have the flattest of all United States' accents. News anchors, celebrities and politicians are taught to speak like my people! In fact, soldiers from the Mid-West were used as code talkers during the wars because they were deemed most understandable. In my mind, I didn't have an accent. Of course, I sounded much different than the Scots but I figured my accent was truly nothing to be excited about. How wildly incorrect this innocent thought has panned out to be.

My accent, more specifically my pronunciation of words, has been at the center of many a party discussion, has been the butt of quite a few jokes and believe it or not has even received a few compliments. A flat warming party Friday meant that after a few drinks complete strangers felt comfortable enough to question American pronunciation. Generally, parties at one point or another force me to become the voice of America. Being the only American in the room I find myself defending particular customs or practices from the United States that I A.) know nothing about or B.) find the custom/practice just as ridiculous and bizarre as the non-Americans (Valet Parking is the most recent example I can think of). This party mockery led me to examine the words that Americans say differently than other English speakers. There are quite a few so I have narrowed the list to the most interesting. I will try to phonetically translate these differences but both myself and my History of the English Language professor can attest to the fact that phonetic translations are not exactly my strong point.

1. Oregano--- American Pronunciation: Oh-Ray-Ga-No Worldly Pronunciation: Or-A-Gaa-No
2. Basil-- American Pronunciation: Bay-Sil  Worldly Pronunciation: BAA-Sil (The pronunciation of "A" is one of the greatest differences in American and British accents.. Americans generally pronounce the letter "A" as "Eh" whereas the Brits pronounce "A" as "Ahh." Although, the Scots accent is a bit different and their pronunciation of "A" leans more towards the American pronunciation than the English).
3. Leisure-- American Pronunciation: Lee-Sure Worldly Pronunciation: Lait (think of the French word for milk)-Shur
4. Zebra- American Pronunciation: Zee-Bra Worldly Pronunciation: Zeb-Bra.. Like the "A" sound the "Z" sound is completely different. In fact, it's not even called "Z" it's a "Zed"
5. Schedule-- American Pronunciation: Sked-Well Worldly Pronunciation: Sched-Ell
6, Arkansas v. Kansas--- I have heard that American pronunciation and it's inaccuracies can be summed up in the differences of pronouncing Arkansas and Kansas. Kansas is pronounced "Can-Ziss" whereas Arkansas is pronounced "Ark-Can-Saw"... it makes no sense, just go with it.


And finally the latest edition to this list, the word that caused me much mockery at a party and certain individuals have carried the mocking throughout the week........
7. Jaguar--- American Pronunciation: Jag-Wire Worldly Pronunciation: Jag-uAR


After a serendipitous occurrence my classmate Joe, his girlfriend Jacqueline, Richard and I all had tickets to the same play on the same evening. Therefore, it was decided by Joe and I that we should go on a double date of sorts to dinner and the play. However, half of my half of the date worried about the validity of this social gathering and the term "double date." To which I renamed it a social gathering in which we converse with another committed couple, which was deemed more appropriate. Shockingly enough, the dictionary uses almost this exact definition to define double date... Double Date: "A social engagement in which two couples go together, as in They went on a double date with her brother and his girlfriend" To save my fingers extra grief I will use "double date" only because the dictionary itself validates this term. The writing of this paragraph was interrupted by yet another debate about the word "date" apparently it's an American term.

After a nice dinner we made our way to the play "All New People." The play was written, directed and starred Zach Braff (That guy from Scrubs). Joe, a Zach Braff aficionado, filled us less knowledgeable play-goers in about the play over dinner. Zach Braff has always wanted to write and perform a play in London. He wrote "All New People" which was first performed a few times in the US. He did not star in the US productions as he wanted to be an audience member and tweak particular parts of the play. The play is showing in three cities in the UK, including London, and the writer will be performing in all UK performances. While, I really had no previous opinion of Zach Braff I will admit that it was pretty exciting to see a "famous person" perform. While I will admit to being excited I certainly was not as excited as many of the Braffinities seated around me. The play opened, as do most, with the curtain slowly pulling apart to reveal the stag. Standing on a chair was Zach Braff and the audience burst into applause and shouts of excitement. I enjoyed the play and while slightly over the top, found it funny.. but, I am fairly certain that many of the audience members would have been perfectly happy if Braff just stood on the stage for an hour and a half.

This week I made another trip to Edinburgh and another trip to the National Gallery for my class in art history. I am always amazed that two cities so close together can be so different. I love Glasgow for many reasons (many of these reasons are actually people) but can never dispute the fact that Edinburgh is gorgeous. The first time I came to Scotland I only travelled to Edinburgh. After, having travelled to Edinburgh a few times since that initial visit and having lived in Glasgow, I believe every traveller to Scotland needs to visit both cities. Edinburgh for it's beauty and history and Glasgow for it's people and a more authentic Scottish feel.

Ten Things You Will Find in Edinburgh but Not in Glasgow:

1. The Union Jack- Yes, I am sure if you look hard enough you will find plenty in Glasgow. However, it is much more common to see the Saltire (Scotland's flag). Glasgow's buildings usually fly the Saltire where Edinburgh's buildings generally fly both.
2. A Castle
3. Ten Thousand Tourist Shops
4. The One O'clock Gun Shot
5. Hundreds of Tour Buses
6. More foreign accents than Scottish accents
7. Small, cobble stoned, winding roads leading to a castle
8. A Nessie Hat, a High-Land Cow Hat, thousands of kilts (again, things that are probably in Glasgow just hidden).
9. Exercisers consistently walking up and down the staircase leading to the castle
10. Bagpipers on every corner.


And, now I must go about my scheduled daily activities which include leisurely feeding my zebra, from Kansas, basil and my jaguar, from Arkansas, oregano.--Aren't language differences fun?

Thoroughly Modern Kate, Act I

One of the main purposes of this blog was to force myself to take pictures while in Scotland. As many of you may well be aware I am pretty terrible at taking pictures. I think this unwillingness to constantly be snapping away comes from my first trip abroad. While in London, I was fortunate enough to see the Changing of the Guard. While the event was impressive, entertaining and quintessentially English I was shocked and appalled by the amount of pictures being taken. People were taking so many pictures that they themselves were completely missing out on the spectacle. It was in that moment that I became a slightly selfish tourist. I decided that while taking a picture or two was of course necessary and beneficial, it was much better to simply enjoy the travel moment for it's worth, to actually remember without having documented evidence. While this idea was all great and good, my memory was slightly less effective than originally thought and I realized that pictures are important. Perhaps not important enough to take so many pictures of the Changing of the Guard that you could make a stop-action film, but important. It was for this reason (and many others) that the blog was devised. This plan, like many plans, has had a bit of adverse effect. Now, I rely a little too much on photos. This week I took absolutely no photos and was terrified about doing the blog. But, I finally realized that while no pictures were taken a lot happened this week that can be shared.

Monday was Richard's birthday. The day that I could finally reveal some super secret surprises that I had been planning. While I absolutely love surprises, I am not always skilled at keeping them a secret. For this reason, Richard had somewhat of a clue as to what his birthday gift would be. However, he wasn't entirely sure and it was for this reason that for an entire month I was pestered with someone trying to ruin his own birthday by figuring out the gift. I heard such lines as "I never keep secrets from you, I tell you EVERYTHING!" "If you are going to make me go somewhere on St. Patrick's Day can you at least make sure I get a Guinness" "So, I hate to tell you this but I can't do anything on St. Patrick's Day because the guys from class have decided we should go on a fishing trip together"  and my personal favorite "Our relationship has become a bed of lies." On Monday, Richard finally was told that we are in fact going to Dublin for St. Patrick's Day. He will get a Guinness and we will not be getting facials as he was told we would be for the last month. But, because he handled that surprise so well I decided to have another little surprise, a birthday dinner. The dinner ended up being a total surprise and it was a lot of fun to celebrate with friends.


Tuesday, I took my first Scottish field trip! My 1920's and 1930's class was going together to see a play, a musical to be exact. Because my program is so small and we are very close knit the play became an entire evening of festivities. First, we had our actual class seminar. Following the seminar we decided to kill time before having dinner by having drinks. After having a drink or two we made our way to a pub, around the corner from the theatre, for dinner. While discussing the evening's upcoming performance over supper a particular member of my class stated that this would be his first ever musical. While I would love to say that my response was nothing but polite, I am afraid that it consisted of a slight gasp, gaping of the mouth and a shocked "You've never been to a musical?!" Reactions like this are my greatest fear, being an arts major you unfortunately stumble upon conversations like the following all the time.
"Oh well I am positive you have read Charles Dovseknti"
"Ummm.. hmmmm. Well actually I have never heard of him"
"WHAT?! You have never read Dovesknti, where did you get your English literature degree?!"
This third degree burning continues on while you begin to doubt every part of your English liteature background. (And, for those of you that believe you've heard of Charles Dovesknti, you haven't, I made him up).
The moral of this story is that I don't want to be one of those over-educated arts students who makes the rest of the World feel like uneducated swine. Besides I have quite a long way to go before I can be considered even close to "over-educated." Back to the story. I believe that this statement took me by such great surprise because of my secret love of musicals. It's embarrassing but I know a lot about musicals. To be totally honest, I am not even sure where this knowledge came from. Yes, I did watch lots as a kid.. I was rewarded with Calamity Jane for finally kicking the sucking thumb habit, but I can't remember the last time I watched a musical. Yet, I know a bizarre amount about these singing, dancing, sappy story features. While I may have given him a hard time at the beginning, it was really fun to go to a musical with a first timer. Especially, a musical that is as ridiculous as "Thouroughly Modern Millie." It was during "half-time" that the class began to discuss the play.

Like in so many American written plays a young girl decides to travel to New York and make it big. This poor girl comes from some terrible, stuck-in-the-past-place in the Midwest. A place that has lent her little and made her very backwards, prude, uninteresting and in complete and total desperation to escape that life. That girl without fail always comes from Kansas. While my classmates were all excited and surprised that she was from Kansas, I had seen it coming. As previously mentioned anytime you have a young woman desperate to escape the middle US, that girl comes from Kansas. It was for this reason that my classmates were convinced I should produce the musical "Thouroughly Modern Kate" regarding my time in Glasgow. If that happens, I am making them all background dancers in an act of revenge. It was entertaining, however, to hear the actors struggle a bit with Kansas pronounciation. Millie was from "Sa-Leena" Kansas rather than "Salina."

I am always reminded of my American-ness at the most unexpected times. Generally, this time happens when I loudly say leisure with a thick American accent. Not that my accent isn't obvious.. but that is the word that always gives me away! I was once again reminded of my American-ness Saturday evening. Wanting to check another place off the Glasgow list, I went to see a movie at the Grosvenor Cinema. Having never been inside this particular theatre, I was pleasantly surprised by the small size of the screen and theatre. The cinema had a very relaxed and homey feel. This provoked me into stating "This is so nice, it's like being in someone's home theatre." This statement received a slight rolling of the eyes and a "Wow. Sometimes you are so American" return. Well, yes I am American and apparently home theatres aren't as common in the rest of the World as they are in American. I spent the rest of the night trying to argue that just because I have been in someone's home theatre doesn't mean my family personally owns one (although that would make my dad's wildest dreams come true). Home theatres can now safely secure a place under garbage disposals on the list of things not so common outside of the US.

Glasgow has a great number of fun places to explore on the weekends. This weekend it was finally time to explore a small bookstore that I had heard a great deal about, Voltaire & Rousseau. The bookstore is located in a little back allyway and is known for having piles upon piles of inexpensive books. That description is certainly accurate, there are massive piles of books everywhere in the store. In fact, pulling any book off the shelf, or from a pile on the floor, is a bit like playing a game of Jenga.. it's best to have a spotter. The narrow walkways are completely surrounded by books of all description. Walking through the store you can hear sporadic crashings and the tumbling of books to the floor. The store is very inexpensive and has a lot to offer but is wildly overwhelming. I loved rummaging through all the books and got a few great baragins but have to admit that I am more deeply in love with the organized beauty that is Waterstone's (though you  may not expect this from looking at my room.). I am always impressed at all the different places to explore within Glasgow, I am certain I will not run out of new places to uncover any time soon.

If you were able to make it through my ramblings and thousands of tangents, I applaud you. I promise to have pictures to share next week!

Four Days as a Scottish Land Owner

It would appear that I already broke my new term promise of blogging each and every Tuesday by skipping last week. Oops. Last weekend was filled with birthday parties and going away get-togethers. However, while these events were loads of fun and it was so wonderful to spend time with close friends, there wasn't much to report on the blog. It was for this reason a trip to Edinburgh was arranged. If you haven't noticed, the blog is an excellent excuse for trips. In fact, having a blog is the perfect equation for making people take you on trips. After sulking about my lack of blog worthy ancedotes and travel pictures I was taken to Edinburgh. The brief day trip consisted of a wander around two museums and a quick lunch at the "World Famous Frankenstein" Pub. (Frankenstein has got to be the most misinterpreted/misunderstood literary character of all time. Of course eating next to bubbling vats of orange liquid and gazing at pictures of creepy monsters is still fun). After a lovely trip to Edinburgh it was time to sink my teeth back into lectures and course readings meaningTuesday came and went blogless. The organizer of the Edinburgh trip was none too pleased with the absent blog post. In fact, I was tortured by the following lines all week: "I took you ALL THE WAY to Edinburgh and you produced nothing!" "Think of how disappointed your Grandmother will be!" "I took pictures on my phone for you!"

Everyone's a critic. To my grandmother and the five other people that read this blog I am so sorry to have disappointed you. Hopefully, these pictures ALL THE WAY from Edinburgh will begin our journey to reconciliation.

At the end of November I was fortunate enough to celebrate my birthday in Paris. As Richard's February birthday approached plans were made for a similiar birthday trip. The Netherlands, Finland and multiple places were discussed. However, in mid January inspiration struck Richard and his birthday planning. One evening over dinner I was told of a plan. I will say that this plan was preceeded by the line "You can say no". That line always instills a bit of fear. No fear was necessary as it was a superb plan. Rather than travel out of the country the birthday celebrant wanted to explore the land of Scotland a bit more. He wanted to do this by renting a car and a cottage for a total weekend escape. When hearing the cottage would have a fireplace I was convinced.

The car was scheduled to be picked up Thursday morning and we would make our way slowly to the cottage to check in late afternoon. The drive to the cottage was absolutely breath taking, the snow capped hills, ice covered water and the ever-present rich coloring of the countryside made for jaw dropping views. While not driving I tend to forget that while driving it is necessary to focus one's attention on the road. Pointing out sheep in the bottom of a ravine or an icy waterfall far from and to the left of the road isn't extremely helpful to someone driving. Fortunately, there were many places to pull to the side of the road so that both the driver and passenger could enjoy the views and take a photo or two.

After one of these photo stops tragedy struck in the most beautiful of places. According to Richard the tire on the car we were driving was extremely flat. Now, the story of the flat tire is really two tales. One from my point of the view (Clearly, the right and correct story) and one from Richard's point of view (which obviously makes valid points but is not entirely right and correct). The story of the tire can be summed up by saying it parallels our different spellings of the word "tire" (Tire for us Americans, Tyres for the South Africans/British). They both begin the same way: we had a car with four tires. As well as end the same way, we had a car with four tires. But, it is in the middle that you will find all the differences. While the story may be told very differently from the two travellers we can both agree upon the fact that there were no accidents, no tire changing, no fighting and the Gas stations of Scotland should invest in air pumps. By the way, did you know that in South Africa you can fill up your tires with air for free! Yes, yet another difference encountered. I, of course, was expecting to pay for air where my travelmate was absolutely horrified, truly horrified, that payment for air was necessary because well you can "breathe air, for free!"

As the sun sank lower and lower in the sky, the photo stops became fewer and fewer as we rushed to get to the cottage. While he may be the end of a few jokes and quite a bit of mocking on this blog, I have nothing but full faith and trust in Richard. And, it is for this reason that I had no qualms in letting him pick out the cottage and the cottage's location entirely on his own (it was his birthday afterall!). Nearing the location of the cottage my faith and trust were briefly tested. Coming off a one-track road we made our way up a very bumpy, wet, hole filled semblance of a road. The road was surrounded by sawed off tree trunks, mulch and dirt covered sheep. Needless to say, I was slightly worried. As we wound our way back deeper into this off-the-beaten track property all my worries were washed away upon first glimpse of the cottage we would be staying.

                                               Barr Na Criche Cottage in Argyll, Scotland

After dragging groceries and baggage into the cottage, running around a few times proclaiming how amazing the cottage was and wandering through the pastures, it was time to settle down and build a fire. Fire building is, however, a bit more challenging than either of us expected. Fortunately, Richard channeled his inner Bear Grylls and four hours later we had a fire up and running. As the days progressed so did the fire builder's prowess. By the last day, he was getting a fire in full blaze in under 20 minutes.

After an absolutely freezing night (figuring out the heating in the cottage presented itself as a challenge) we hit the road to take in the sites. The day was spent driving and stopping at small towns and scenic points. It was so much fun to slowly weave our way along the country roads without any real pressure of "must see" sights. The landscape again proved to be mind-blowingly gorgeous and it was a much needed escape from the city.

The weekend absolutely flew by and Sunday came far too quickly. To work up our appetites, we had to eat the "breakfast to end all breakfasts" to rid the kitchen of any leftover food, we took a walk through the pastures of the cottage's property. After our country walk it was time to pack up the car and head home to Glasgow. The cottage weekend was certainly a success and I am more than happy I didn't say "no" to the idea.