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Out of bed at sparrow's fart last Saturday to fly from Southampton to Glasgow, and on by hired car to the house, along a country road, two miles from Auchtermuchty.
Pat and John were there to meet us as we arrived just before 4 pm; Pat showed us round the whole place before directing me to my room, a narrow but long one with an en-suite bathroom. The others arrived in dribs and drabs over the next couple of hours. There was, joy, a PC with internet access on the main landing. Periodic visits to that, plus people who arrived later and had been listening on car radios, kept us updated on Serena Williams' victory and Germany's destruction of Argentina.
The fourteen of us all massed in the longest room that evening, together with Pat's daughter Fay and her husband Alan who were joining us for the first two days, for a 'welcome' buffet evening meal of cooked chicken, cold meat and salad. I sat opposite Fay and Alan and got on with them straight away, they being football fans, even if they did support Rangers :) On learning that I was a Holland fan, they adopted the Oranje as their team for the rest of the World Cup. Eileen groaned : she'd thought that with England having been knocked out her holiday would be a football-free zone. She hadn't banked on there being a supporter of a team still involved among us.
Sunday we got our first taste of classic Scottish weather. It was already raining when we reached central Perth, then as we pulled into the pub where Pat's son Doug and his partner Amber were meeting us for lunch, the heavens opened. Torrential rain like we from down south had hardly ever seen. "That's real Scottish heavy rain," smiled Uncle Hector, who's never lived in Scotland but is of Scots extraction and has visited many a time.
We went to Edinburgh on Monday. We all met at Fay and Alan's flat in Leith then took the bus into the city. I walked the length of the Royal Mile, indulging in the old Scottish custom of spitting on the Heart of Midlothian en route and taking care not to walk right across the heart - I have enough bad luck in love as it is - and called at a chip shop that served Scotland's legendary delicacy, deep fried Mars bars. Had to try one - very tasty! Sadly didn't have time to do the Castle or the 'Virtual Loch Ness Experience', as I had two more Edinburgh landmarks to see, fortunately next to each other : the Traverse Theatre, where Crave premièred, and the Usher Hall, venue of the 1972 Eurovision Song Contest. Well, I did see them, even if massive scaffolding obscured much of my view. Met up with the others and we all got the bus back out to Leith for dinner with another son of Pat's, Bruce, and his wife Adele, who sat opposite me. She's writing a novel, so we compared notes about our literary ventures. John asked whether I'd gone ahead with spitting on the Heart; I said yes, and added that that supposedly means I'll come back to Edinburgh one day. John replied "Yes, for the court case for spitting in the street."
Afterwards, back at the house we met up with my cousin Sam and a friend of hers, an older lady named Jill, who'd flown in from Birmingham early in the evening. I made the mistake of mixing white and red wine and spent the early hours of the morning on the white telephone.
Tuesday we visited Scone Palace and saw a replica of the Stone of Destiny on the hill. Sam, a cider aficionada, pointed out a sweet local cider in the gift shop; I bought a bottle and also stocked up on Scottish beers for the week, including a premium whisky beer, 1488. That evening Pat made chicken curry and, while the others ate in the long room, as none of them wanted to see Holland v Uruguay, John and I had ours upstairs in Pat and John's lounge as we watched the match; Gran joined us for the last quarter-hour. When Uruguay pulled it back to 3-2 I chewed my fingernails down to the quick waiting for the ref to blow that bloody whistle. Still the Oranje won, keeping me in a convivial mood to join the others for drinks and a chat downstairs - even if Sam did say she wanted the Germans to win the cup because they were the best footballing side she'd seen!
Wednesday we had lunch at Mackay's in Pitlochry, giving me the chance to have a generous helping of haggis, then on to Edradour Distillery, Scotland's smallest whisky distillery, where they still make the whisky using classic old equipment and techniques, including a still that is the smallest size allowed in the UK. Our tour guide was a continental European - he wouldn't say where he was from but sounded Dutch to me - with a clear passion for the whisky-making and for this very special distillery. Got to sample a superb whisky cream liqueur. That night my mother wanted to do something other than just sit and chat so persuaded us to do a 'Pub Quiz' on CDs that were provided by the venue; some of us were happy enough doing it but it ended up in a row.
The next evening we took a trip out to Anstruther to try their world famous fish and chips. There was a queue spilling out onto the street, but a girl took all our orders as we queued, allowing our food to be ready soon after we reached the head of the line. She laughed and said no when I asked if they did deep fried Mars bars. We were in the queue about half an hour, but all agreed the food was well worth it; my lemon sole in breadcrumbs and chips were excellent.
Friday we all went to Stirling Castle. I only had time to see about half - made sure I saw the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders Museum - as I also wanted to see Stirling Old Town Jail. By the time I walked down the hill from the castle to the jail it was pouring with rain, but the jail was well worth the effort. I was the only person on my guided tour, but that didn't dampen the energetic performances of the guides - one guy who portrayed Jock Rankin the 18th century hangman, then Thomas Hyslop the 19th century prison governor, then two prisoners from the Victorian era, and a lady who played Elizabeth Fry, the 19th century prison reformer. I walked back up the hill through rain to rejoin the others in the castle car park, to a chorus of "They let you out, then."
We rounded off the week with a farewell barbecue in the garden that night over the wood fire - mercifully it stayed dry - where I sank the rest of my beers and the others held a lengthy discussion about where to go for next year's gathering. Cornwall emerged as favourite, though there was a lobby in favour of Dorset; I abstained since it's financially unlikely that I'll be attending in any case. A low point came when one English city was suggested, and someone whom I liked and respected said "No, it's full of...I won't say it", and when I asked if they had meant people from that region, someone else said softly to me "They mean blacks."
Back, via the scenic route, to Glasgow airport yesterday afternoon; after a twenty minute delay to the flight, home around 8.30 to unpack and crash out.
Pat and John were there to meet us as we arrived just before 4 pm; Pat showed us round the whole place before directing me to my room, a narrow but long one with an en-suite bathroom. The others arrived in dribs and drabs over the next couple of hours. There was, joy, a PC with internet access on the main landing. Periodic visits to that, plus people who arrived later and had been listening on car radios, kept us updated on Serena Williams' victory and Germany's destruction of Argentina.
The fourteen of us all massed in the longest room that evening, together with Pat's daughter Fay and her husband Alan who were joining us for the first two days, for a 'welcome' buffet evening meal of cooked chicken, cold meat and salad. I sat opposite Fay and Alan and got on with them straight away, they being football fans, even if they did support Rangers :) On learning that I was a Holland fan, they adopted the Oranje as their team for the rest of the World Cup. Eileen groaned : she'd thought that with England having been knocked out her holiday would be a football-free zone. She hadn't banked on there being a supporter of a team still involved among us.
Sunday we got our first taste of classic Scottish weather. It was already raining when we reached central Perth, then as we pulled into the pub where Pat's son Doug and his partner Amber were meeting us for lunch, the heavens opened. Torrential rain like we from down south had hardly ever seen. "That's real Scottish heavy rain," smiled Uncle Hector, who's never lived in Scotland but is of Scots extraction and has visited many a time.
We went to Edinburgh on Monday. We all met at Fay and Alan's flat in Leith then took the bus into the city. I walked the length of the Royal Mile, indulging in the old Scottish custom of spitting on the Heart of Midlothian en route and taking care not to walk right across the heart - I have enough bad luck in love as it is - and called at a chip shop that served Scotland's legendary delicacy, deep fried Mars bars. Had to try one - very tasty! Sadly didn't have time to do the Castle or the 'Virtual Loch Ness Experience', as I had two more Edinburgh landmarks to see, fortunately next to each other : the Traverse Theatre, where Crave premièred, and the Usher Hall, venue of the 1972 Eurovision Song Contest. Well, I did see them, even if massive scaffolding obscured much of my view. Met up with the others and we all got the bus back out to Leith for dinner with another son of Pat's, Bruce, and his wife Adele, who sat opposite me. She's writing a novel, so we compared notes about our literary ventures. John asked whether I'd gone ahead with spitting on the Heart; I said yes, and added that that supposedly means I'll come back to Edinburgh one day. John replied "Yes, for the court case for spitting in the street."
Afterwards, back at the house we met up with my cousin Sam and a friend of hers, an older lady named Jill, who'd flown in from Birmingham early in the evening. I made the mistake of mixing white and red wine and spent the early hours of the morning on the white telephone.
Tuesday we visited Scone Palace and saw a replica of the Stone of Destiny on the hill. Sam, a cider aficionada, pointed out a sweet local cider in the gift shop; I bought a bottle and also stocked up on Scottish beers for the week, including a premium whisky beer, 1488. That evening Pat made chicken curry and, while the others ate in the long room, as none of them wanted to see Holland v Uruguay, John and I had ours upstairs in Pat and John's lounge as we watched the match; Gran joined us for the last quarter-hour. When Uruguay pulled it back to 3-2 I chewed my fingernails down to the quick waiting for the ref to blow that bloody whistle. Still the Oranje won, keeping me in a convivial mood to join the others for drinks and a chat downstairs - even if Sam did say she wanted the Germans to win the cup because they were the best footballing side she'd seen!
Wednesday we had lunch at Mackay's in Pitlochry, giving me the chance to have a generous helping of haggis, then on to Edradour Distillery, Scotland's smallest whisky distillery, where they still make the whisky using classic old equipment and techniques, including a still that is the smallest size allowed in the UK. Our tour guide was a continental European - he wouldn't say where he was from but sounded Dutch to me - with a clear passion for the whisky-making and for this very special distillery. Got to sample a superb whisky cream liqueur. That night my mother wanted to do something other than just sit and chat so persuaded us to do a 'Pub Quiz' on CDs that were provided by the venue; some of us were happy enough doing it but it ended up in a row.
The next evening we took a trip out to Anstruther to try their world famous fish and chips. There was a queue spilling out onto the street, but a girl took all our orders as we queued, allowing our food to be ready soon after we reached the head of the line. She laughed and said no when I asked if they did deep fried Mars bars. We were in the queue about half an hour, but all agreed the food was well worth it; my lemon sole in breadcrumbs and chips were excellent.
Friday we all went to Stirling Castle. I only had time to see about half - made sure I saw the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders Museum - as I also wanted to see Stirling Old Town Jail. By the time I walked down the hill from the castle to the jail it was pouring with rain, but the jail was well worth the effort. I was the only person on my guided tour, but that didn't dampen the energetic performances of the guides - one guy who portrayed Jock Rankin the 18th century hangman, then Thomas Hyslop the 19th century prison governor, then two prisoners from the Victorian era, and a lady who played Elizabeth Fry, the 19th century prison reformer. I walked back up the hill through rain to rejoin the others in the castle car park, to a chorus of "They let you out, then."
We rounded off the week with a farewell barbecue in the garden that night over the wood fire - mercifully it stayed dry - where I sank the rest of my beers and the others held a lengthy discussion about where to go for next year's gathering. Cornwall emerged as favourite, though there was a lobby in favour of Dorset; I abstained since it's financially unlikely that I'll be attending in any case. A low point came when one English city was suggested, and someone whom I liked and respected said "No, it's full of...I won't say it", and when I asked if they had meant people from that region, someone else said softly to me "They mean blacks."
Back, via the scenic route, to Glasgow airport yesterday afternoon; after a twenty minute delay to the flight, home around 8.30 to unpack and crash out.
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