Will update/back date soon.

Right now, I just need to get this out of my system:

Everything I'm feeling right now, the being pulled by tides I thought I'd slipped, stretched ane torn along old fracture lines, all of it can be summed up in easy chords in this song.



Caledonia
by Dougie Maclean


I don't know if you can see,
The changes that have come over me.
In these last few days I've been afraid,
That I might drift away.
I've been telling stories, singing songs,
That make me think about where I come from.
That's the reason why I seem
So far away today.

(Chorus)
Let me tell you that I love you,
That I think about you all the time.
Caledonia, you're calling me,
Now I'm going home.
But if I shall become a stranger,
Know that it would make me more than sad,
Caledonia's been everything I've ever had.

Now I have moved and kept on moving,
Proved the points that I needed proving,
Lost the friends that I needed losing,
Found others on the way.
I have kissed the lads and left them crying,
Stolen dreams, yes there's no denying,
I have travelled hard sometimes with conscience flying,
Somewhere in the wind.

(Chorus)

Now I'm sitting here before the fire,
The empty room, a forest choir,
The flames have cooled. don't get any higher,
They've withered now they've gone.
But I'm steady thinking my way is clear,
And I know what I will do tomorrow,
When hands have shaken, the kisses flowed,
Then I will disappear.

(Chorus)



Now please, let's not be melodramatic. However, it's late at night, you'll have to forgive my musical penchants. And honestly, I'll explain it all later. For now, just reread the pretty song and flex your fingers to the repetitive chords.

Kelvingrove

Oh, what a fantastic place. The Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum-- everything about it is wonderful. The exterior of the building, the lavishness of it, the ornate quality of the place from paneled ceiling to marbled floors. And then there's all the stuff in it! Simply fantastic... le sigh.

Here are some of the highlights:

The aforementioned exterior of the building.


Just inside the front doors.


Giant Irish Deer... Yes, I like skeletons of dead things,

and this dead thing is nearly a full 8 feet tall, which makes it inherently nifty.

If there is a dinosaur in the place, I will find it and photograph it.

It's this neat party trick that I do.

Much like the Hunterian, this place is almost a cabinet of wonder.

Yes, that is indeed a bomber plane and an elephant. Also a giraffe.

It's fine, that's why we love places like this.

Yeah, it's John Locke. Yay, philosophy!


A Highland Funeral by one of the Glasgow Boys, James Guthrie.


Yay, car! Second version of a car built by James Anderson,

which was wildly popular with the Bertie Wooster set.

This little baby could reach speeds of up to 100 mph-- pretty zippy in 1924!

Dashboard of revolutionary zippiness.


The spotted kiwi, left in the picture, lays the egg which is to the right in the picture,

being the largest egg to body mass ratio in the animal kingdom.

Damn. Poor kiwi.

Grouse, meet the Famous Grouse.


A Haggis-- totally what every haggis I've ever seen looks like, no joke.

I love you, Scotland.

Curators have a sense of humor here.

And the peoples rejoiced.

Supposedly the key to Mary, Queen of Scots' cell in Loch Leven Castle.

You know that scene from Bedknobs and Broomsticks?

To me, the one on the far left is saying, "Hey, yeah, just hanging out with my rifle..."

The one in the middle something like "Who's called shotgun now, bitches!"

The one on the right is ignoring the other two.

Soay Sheep (Ovis aires) from St. Kilda.

I'd really like to visit St. Kilda one day...

Field mouse of St. Kilda, which are supersized compared to their mainland cousins.

It's sitting next to the bones of a cat which, after everyone evacuated from the island,

were left but then later shot. Go, mice.

The oldest spinning wheel from St. Kilda... le sigh. :)

Motherless, by Geogre Lawson.

Supposedly the wife and mother of these two has just died,

and there is an undeniably haunting quality to it.

Detail of Motherless.

Large silver thing...

Awesome detail of large silver thing.

Modesty by Giosue Argenti.

Victor Hugo by Rodin, 1883.

Masscre of Glan Coe, by James Hamilton.

The 1692 masscre of Glencoe was so shocking that it has become legendary.

THough the murders were carried out by an army at royal request,

the Campbell clan is still blamed today for this atrocity against the Macdonalds.

Detail. The girl's eyes are so compelling.

Detail.

Detail.

I found it!

The Auchendrane Portrait of Robert Burns.

Execution of mary, Queen of Scots by Robert Herdman.

Ann Pattison, Mrs. William Urquhart by Henry Raeburn.

She is what I picture when I think of Scottish beauty.

Detail of a painting by Seurat.

Detail of The Man in Armour by Rembrandt. This is totally the wallpaper on my little phone and a print of which is in my living room courtesy of the gift shop. *snifs* I love you, Rembrandt!

Yes, those are floating heads. Thanks, contemporary art.

So, these are just a sampling of the goodness and delight to be found at the Kelvingrove. I'd rate their cafe pretty well, too-- just avoid the caesar salad. They do, however, have a Fraoch lager called Heather Ale, which is delicious and delightful.

Go forth and view if you can! Glasgow wins again!

If you're in the neighborhood...

Danger Muffin and I just stumbled into the Drawing Room in Glasgow, across from the Kelvingrove which is lit beautifully in the nighttime hours, and had a ridiculously lovely dinner. She highly recommends the sticky toffee pudding. I recommend the chicken fillet with wild mushrooms. We both recommend the live music that sprung up next to our commandeered couch.

As I'm writing this, there a middle-aged man with a wicked guitar and a cabbie hat turned backwards on his head growling out a version of Lay Lady Lay while kids in skinny jeans and plaid shirts skitter in and out the door, moving between vices, outside for cigarettes and inside for half-price pints of fosters.

Earlier a pair of youngsters who look younger than I can ever remember being strummed out some inventive and original works, one on the guitar and the other on a wee, one octave argos-alumni keyboard. Pretty much adorable. I think one of their opening lines ran something like "Woke up with a headache, afraid to consult my phone." Hahahaha, oh dear. Just lovely.

I wish for all the world that I'd remembered to grab my trusty little camera out of my day purse and relocate it to the laptop bag. I guess you'll just have to take my word on this one, this place is worth the visit.

And the wireless which has enabled this posting is FREE! :)

Right, bullet time!

Okay, so I'm sorry, I'm a shit blogger and have been remiss in my updating. SO MUCH TO TYPE! Ergo, the wonder of spot editing!

• I'm living with a wonderful, delightful woman named Danger Muffin-- D-Muff for short-- and she's fantastic. She moved here from MI and, despite a failure to communicate for 6 years, has clicked back into my life like she never left it. We originally met through the MSF and have a mutual unhealthy relationship with Shakespeare and Arts Organizations in general. As it is, we're living at approximately the same speed. Which is the speed of light and sound. Together. Amplified.
• My student loans still haven't come through. This makes me a sad panda.
• I'm working too many different jobs. I can't keep them straight. And I haven't been in my office in ages. I'm sure I'm supposed to be doing something for the Ph.D., but for the life of me I don't know what. Good sign?
• I haven't heard from DS in ages. Again, sad panda.
• I've been cast in a production of Miller's Crucible at the University. And which character is little Miss Melville portray? The "death-haunted, embittered 45 year old woman" of course. Type casting? Please say no, I only look 35.
• My crossword addiction has hit record levels. The careers office is enabling me by saving all their old copies of the Herald and the Guardian. I still buy the Times on a daily basis and hit up the Washington Post online. Sick, sick puppy.
• I've rediscovered my love of white russians. They're delicious and way kinder to my tummy-lining. For a change up, I will order a vodka and cranberry, but only because I believe in the fight against UTI. I also drink gin and tonic because malaria is a bastard. Ergo, all my cocktails serve very strategic purposes.
• I think that Scotland is currently underutilizing my generous and nurturing side. I'll expound more on this at a later date if I get the time.
• Damn facebook. Yes, I use it and I love it and it's the only way people who know me in real time can reach me on a consistent basis, but it keeps telling me all sorts of disconcerting things. What things, you ask? Apparently everyone I used to know is either getting married or spawning. No joke. Entire photo albums of engagement rings, ultrasound pictures or tiny humans fresh out of their wrappers-- they're everywhere. I used to think my being perpetually between boyfriends wasn't that unusual, but apparently I'm a piraha. Still, better than being perpetually between husbands, right? Right?!?
• I really miss playing the tuba. Unfortunately, there appear to be very few of them in Scotland, and even fewer that belong to me. That number being zero.
• The roses down near the beach ballroom are still blooming.
• I still love Scotland.
• It no longer strikes me as strange that I'm here. What does seem strange is that I was never not here. Is that odd?

Enough for now. I'll finish writing and then backdate the rest of the Wedding entry, it's just too much for my less than nimble little fingers at the moment.

Nairn Highland Games, 2008

... otherwise known as a highlight of my life!

Honestly, one of the best. weekends. ever. Not only was the weather on Saturday absolutely brilliant, but the company was smashing, the drinking delightful and the locale unmatched. But to tell the story...

Alpha and I drove up with Pandy on Friday afternoon as soon as I got out of work. After loading two crates of tennents (the local brew of paupers' choice) and the tent into the boot, we hit the road. A rather severe thunderstorm threatened to slow us down, but we would not be deterred. Friday night saw the construction of the tent village, some lovely homemade lasagna by our host, let's call him the Dear Scotsman (DS), and a lovely sunset over the Northern Highlands.

Saturday morning brought further arrivals as all prepped for the Games. Our little tented village, see below, added a few more neighbors and general conversation sprung up between the old friends and first-timers as we munched on various cereals and began tossing about the tins of brew. It was really quite refreshing to once again be amongst those hardy souls who do not smirk at the notion of the breakfast beer.

Due to our location, we had a lovely walk up along the shoreline, and arrived just in time to see the combined pipe and drum band march along the perimeter. Thus the games began! (To be fair, I spent a fair amount of time talking to DS's other guests in a beer garden directly adjacent to the games field, but I caught the major events.)

The atmosphere was far from lacking. While there were the requisite carnival rides and attendant riffraff, along with the requisite jokes and movie quotes pertaining to such folk, there were also stands selling highland tablet (how to describe?... if fudge and maple sugar candies had a love child? I think that's about right) and hand-knit sweaters, kids and dogs running about on leashes and free, completely unintelligible announcing, and this guy:


I know it may be hard to see, but there's an additional neck on that there guitar, and it kinda sounded like a ukulele. Translation: awesome.

There were several events that I'd never really seen before, and while I'm sure they're all part of a proud and useful tradition (as is everything in Scotland) I couldn't really tell the precise use of this giant game of tug-'o-war.



For me, the highlight of the Games themselves had to be the Caber Toss. I'd been looking forward to actually witnessing this for so incredibly long, I was giddy as a schoolgirl the entire time.

A caber mid-flight!

The action was intense, I can totally understand why DS felt the need to look away! Additionally, he looked quite dashing in his full kit, well done!

The rest of the weekend was spent drinking and laughing so hard my sides hurt, eating grilled burgers and toasting bits of bread over an open flame. Apparently there were bugs about, but they decided to pass on biting my flesh-- perhaps the gin and tonic therapy I've adopted has really and truly put them off! To be fair, I wasn't the one swilling the gin, I left that up to Clarkie. I did, however, sample several glasses of this:


The conversation ran a little something like this:
Alpha: What's that?
Miss Melville: Looks like sangria to me!
Queen of the Brew: I don't know if I'd go that far... let's call it punch and leave it at that.
Miss Melville: (takes a deep pull from her mug) Either way, works for me!

To be absolutely fair, the entire weekend came off without a hitch due mostly to the efforts of one man: our Dear Scotsman. Always moving about, seeing to things, popping in and out of conversations, finding flashlights, leading the way to the pub and back again, taking care of all the organizational pitfalls that plague large gatherings like this one-- he did it all with aplomb and skill. Hats off to you, kilted grillmaster! Please note the tankard: again, well done!



I was the last one standing come the end of Saturday Night into Sunday morning, and beyond seeing the last of the drunks to bed and tidying up a little bit, I gazed at one of the most memorable and spectacular sunrises of my young life:






We drove back to the 'Deen, slightly sunburned and very happy, later in the morning on Sunday. Le sigh. Back to the everyday worries of rent and submission deadlines, but I lived the dream for one full weekend, and that's pretty good by me. If you ever, EVER, EVER get the chance to go to the Highland Games, any of them, don't think twice. Don't even blink. Just go! And if they're in Nairn, look for me-- now that I know that they're there, I will be doing everything in my power to get back. :)

Elgin!

Or: The Day That Never Ended.*

For the money, Elgin is not a bad idea. In fact, if you're into really interesting, ruined cathedrals with atmosphere and history spilling out of every nook and cranny, Elgin is for you! Just make sure you know what time the train comes and goes. In fact, you might want to tattoo it somewhere on your body, just to be safe. Especially if travelling on a Sunday. Just take my word on this one.

It isn't so obvious on a modern map, but for much of recorded history Elgin was isolated from the rest of Scotland; with the Cairngorms to the south and protected by two unbridged and often uncrossable rivers, the Spey to the east and the Findhorn to the west, Elgin really is in the middle of nowhere. This is a fact you will become keenly aware of should you miss the aforementioned trains.

Historians say that Elgin "probably" existed in 1040 when King Duncan's army met and lost to the infamous macbeth at Pitgaveney, a mile north east of the modern city. It was definitely a well-established hum for humanity by the time it was Chartered as a Royal Burgh by David I in 1136. By 1230 Elgin had also acquired a Royal Castle, built on the foundations of an earlier defensive structure, possibly the one in which Duncan died of his wounds in 1040. On the royal line, Richard I stayed in Elgin Castle when he visited the city in 1296 during one of his tours of suppression. For more on the Castle, stay tuned-- but for now, let's talk a little (or rather, quite large and ruined) cathedral!

Anyways, the Cathedral is a decent walk through a residential bit of Elgin, past some large palm trees in the center of a roundabout and then, poof! giant honking ruin. The first church on the grounds dates back to the 1200s, and was a cross-shaped building much smaller than the currently visible ruins. It was enlarged later in the same century, possibly following a fire, which yeilded the main church, 280ft in length, taller than the original and with a new choir and an octagonal chapter house. After St. Andrews it was the second largest cathedral in Scotland.

Some badly judged local politics led to the burning of the Cathedral (and much of the rest of Elgin as well) in 1390, by the Wolf of Badenoch, otherwise known as Alexander Stewart, the younger son of Robert II. Bishop Alexander Bur had apparently caused him to to be excommunicated for marital infidelity, and this was his way of getting even. If you ask me, burning a church isn't the best way to get back in with the church, but whatever.

The destruction was followed up by two hundred years of off-and-on rebuilding and adding-on. More work was needed after the collapse of the central tower in 1506, and the west front and chapter house both had some work done around the same time.

Sadly, the Lantern of the North, as Elgin Cathedral is still affectionately known, was one of the many casualties of the 1560 reformation. Unfortunately, it was a blow from which the mightly old building would never recover, as the cathedral fabric soon began to suffer. The lead roofs and the cathedral bells were pulled down and in 1637 the choir roof blew down in a gale. The cathedral still saw occasional use, but it was never enough to justify any repairs. Much of the inside was robbed out, including the destruction of the rood screen for firewood, which breaks the heart if you think about it for long enough.

In the early 1800s there was finally some interest in preserving what hadn't already been lost forever. In 1807, John Shanks, "a drouthy cobbler" was appointed keeper of the cathedral and his single-handed efforts in the clearing of collapsed masonry led to the preparation of a report seeking to highlight the steps required to stabilise the ruin and improve the cathedral grounds.

Modern visitors are left imagine what the cathedral must have looked like in its day. However, there's still plenty to marvel over. Sadly, little remains of the nave, though the ruins of the inner walls are of full height where they abut the towers, showing that it was two stories high. The two transepts represent the most complete part of the first church, and they also had two stages. Nothing remains of the great central tower, but two stone figures, one of a bishop and another of a knight are now on display in the south-east corner of the nave. They originally sat in large niches high up on the western angles of the tower.

Of the cathedral church, the choir and presbytery are the most complete parts remaining. These were rebuilt in the late 1400s. The aisles and chapels flanking the choir have been altered, but the vaults that cover them are still essentially as built after 1270. The tomb of Bishop John of Winchester, lord bishop of Moray which is found here, is the most complete in the cathedral. There are some truly unusual tombstones, take your time and look closely!

Even if you arrive after the cathedral is officially closed for the day, there are pleanty of sights to be seen and photos to be gleaned by a walk around the perimeter. While I'm pretty happy with most of the pictures I took of the place, they comepletely and totally fail to capture the sheer SCALE of the place. I suppose you'll just have to see it with your own eyes! ;)

If you've still got some time to kill while in Elgin (and considering it's Elgin, you just might), take a walk over to Lady Hill Monument. There's not a whole lot left of the castle today, though Lady Hill on which it stood remains a prominent viewpoint. Since 1839 it's been the home of the 80ft high Duke of Gordon Monument with a statue of the fifth duke glowering down on Elgin. Maybe he missed his trains as well.

The base of Lady Hill is perfectly semmetrical and really quite lovely, and you could totally pull a Rocky up the steps if you really want. To the right of the undeniably phallic Gordon tower...... one will find some rocky, castley bits. Feel free to impersonate a mountain goat on some really, REALLY old castle. I certainly enjoyed it! Just remember, you've got to walk back down the hill you climb. :)

*-- If you want the FULL story on why this epic day was the "day that never ended" you'll have to find me in person, soften me up with at least three pints or two double whiskey and lemonade, and then-- and only then-- ask me about it.