Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Scotland Part the Fifth: Les Châteaux

Less French, more pictures!

 This, my lovely ones, is Cawdor Castle. 
I repeat: Cawdor Castle. 
Cawdor, people. 
Yes, yes! THAT Cawdor. 
As in:
"All hail, Macbeth, hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor!"

 Dudes, we have called forth some Shakespearean awesomeness right about now.

 And, okay so technically, MacBeth killed king Duncan at Inverness rather than at Cawdor.

"Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not
Those in commission yet return'd?"

 And if we're being totally honest, this castle was built well after said assassination occurred.

"Great Glamis! worthy Cawdor!
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter!"

 Actually, if we're being totally honest, it wasn't an assassination at all. Macbeth spanked King Duncan on the field of battle and Shakespeare sort of...played with the plot, if you will.
"'Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more; Macbeth shall sleep no more.'"

 Nevertheless and notwithstanding, I choose to believe I toured the gardens, poked around the maze, got lost in the "wilderness park", wandered the halls, and had a lovely ham sandwich in the kitchen of Macbeth's castle. 

"Thou hast it now: king, Cawdor, Glamis, all" 
Why yes, Banquo dearest, I do have it all.

And this, 

This is...


Honestly I don't remember what this castle was called. But it boasted some very self-important and entitled swans, a lovely long walk around a lake/pond, and a pinkish tone to the facade. Sadly, it was closed by the time we stopped by for a tour, so we didn't get to see inside. Maybe that's why the name totally escapes me. Or it could have been the antipathy for the seriously annoying swan mentioned above. That guy was a total jerk.

But this one I do remember. 

Ladies and Gentlemen, Scone Palace.

Complete with a replica Stone of Scone, upon which I did not sit. (The "real" stone is in Edinburgh...or London...or Mars. The theories vary.)

Also featuring
One very confused tree. Why is it growing horizontally? It does not know, and neither do I.

We did go inside both Cawdor Castle and Scone Palace, but as there was no photography allowed you can't see it. Actually, you can see it. Just google them, I'm sure there are pics.

Thing about castles is, they're awesome. And we got to see the whole bit. There were dungeons and fireplaces and family portrait galleries and four-poster beds with thick canopies and gardens with mazes and well planned "wildernesses" and suits of armor and gift shops and much making out in any or all of said places.

Oh yes, the smoochage was everywhere!

And then we went here:

But Edinburgh deserves it's own post, obviously.

Update: This photo should really have been in the original post, for reasons that do not need stating.

Thursday, April 7, 2011


Eventually I will write that "Castles" post, I promise. (I'm sure you're all waiting with bated breath for it, obviously). Meanwhile, a few conversations I've overheard/taken part in that I want you to have for your records. I hope they are as useful to you as they have been to me.

Scene 1: Marshall's Department Store, near the pottery/crockery/stuff-you-don't-really-need-but-like-to-look-at isle (specifically that pitcher shaped like a chicken)

Woman behind me (loud and clear): "You do that and you belong to Satan."

Me (hastily snatching my hand away from the seemingly harmless ceramic poultry): Wha..?

Turns out she was on the phone. Still.

Scene 2: The elevator in my apartment building, on the way up from the laundry level, paused to let in two people with dogs.

Man (to small, agitated chihuahua): "If you can't play nice, you'll go to bed early!"

Woman (to larger, equally agitated canine of unknown breed): "Now be nice! I know I'm just your mama and you don't believe me, but you can share!"

Me (internally): If I stay in this elevator with them for too long, will I come out crazy too?

Scene 3: Years ago, some big EFY meeting that probably consisted of boring speakers and/or emotional manipulation. I have just noticed a paper-cut on my finger is bleeding a little (No, EFY did no make me cut myself...quite).

Me (turning to my roommate behind me): "Hey, do you have a bandaid?"

Roommate (leaning forward, whispering loudly): "I have diarrhea."

Me: "Do you also have a bandaid?"

Her: "I think it was something I ate."

Me: "Did you eat the bandaid?"

So, in conclusion: Too much time with animals may or may not lead to mental illness, chicken shaped crockery will lead you straight to hell, and in some cultures the word "bandaid" is code for "gastrointestinal problem."

You're welcome.