Slains Castle – Pictures by Jeff Allen

 

 

Ardoe House Hotel

Because spending time with the family was off the books this year, and because the weather was so very cold, and because we didn’t want to spend Christmas huddled around the plug-in heater in the trailer, hubby and I decided we’d treat ourselves and spend Christmas in one of Aberdeen’s finer hotels.  Yes, one of the finer hotels…that also had a good Christmas deal on, because we’re cheap frugal that way.  And that’s how we ended up at the fairytale castle that is the Ardoe House Hotel.

Well…in a room in a wing off the back of the Ardoe House.

But the exercise was good for working off the Christmas chocolate that people had been bringing in to work and that I had been stuffing myself with because I have no self-control.  And the room was quiet.  And it had a bathtub.  I had four baths in three days.  I don’t feel guilty about this at all.  I didn’t even go down to the hot tub or the sauna because I was so very happy with the deep, wonderful, sparkley-clean tub in my room.  It was the perfect depth and the the perfect length: meaning I could wedge myself in to it and fall asleep and not worry about possibly drowning.  It’s also been a very, very, very long time since I’ve seen Nightmare on Elm Street, so I no longer worry about Freddy Krueger dragging me under, either.

Sadly, hubby was hit with the flu (the real flu that makes you fee like your bones are being ground into dust) and so didn’t enjoy his stay very much at all.   This didn’t stop me, however.  Making sure hubby had a never-ending supply of hot honey and lemon next to him, I was able to spend my time reading by the fire in the sitting room (when I wasn’t in the tub) and nibbling from the large table of fruits, nuts, and chocolates that had been set out for the Christmas season.  Again: bliss.

Oh, and come Christmas day, who was to be found resting in the hotel, but one shiny-nosed friend of old…

 

Gordon Highlanders at Castle Crathes and a Dog…

…or, Why I Love this Country.

 

Happy Bunny

Happy-Bunny Crystal appears when there are animals of an equine nature around.  This past weekend there were three extremely Happy Bunnies about the place.  (The place being Blair Atholl where we went trecking — a.k.a., hacking; a.k.a., trail riding.)  What better way could there have been to celebrate Annie’s birthday?

Hamish. Our fearless leader.

 

Third Bout of Snow

Back on the 13th of February, I found that the snowdrops had arrived.  Spring was here!

But then, not three days later, a foot of snow was dumped on us.  In the hills, there was two feet of the glorious white stuff.

A week later, it was still there when I accompanied Graeme to Dufftown.  No, it’s not a The Simpson’s theme park.  It’s the real name of a real town in Scotland and nine whisky distilleries call it home.   Call it a place of pilgrimage.  Graeme had just spent five weeks in Abu Dhabi.  He had only two days in Scotland before flying down to London for a week.  “Let’s go for a drive,” he says.  “Where to, I ask?”  “Oh, just along some country roads,” he says.   “Yes, lets,” I say.  “It’s a beautiful day for a drive.”

• Rorschach test #1 – in the ‘bridge-scape’ picture, I saw a hummingbird in the clouds.  Hubby saw a pterodactyl.  As soon as he said that, I saw instead a seagull floating on the water.
• Rorschach test #2 – in the ‘auchindoun caslte’ picture, I saw a rabbit drinking a can of beer.  Hubby saw a dog with its head tilted, looking at the castle
• Fun Fact #1 – The Dufftown  site says that Dufftown raises more capital for the Government per head of population than any other place in the UK.

 

Quick Update

1. Ha! Turns out our rooster is a chicken.  Show him my boot and he’ll attack ’till his dying breath.  Try to pick him up and he turns tail, not letting me within 10 feet of him.
2. 1st week without hubby is down.  Three more to go.
3. After waiting two years, The Chocolate Tree chocolate has made its way to Aberdeen.  Yay!!!  But wait…It’s cheaper by 60p a bar to buy The Chocolate Tree chocolate online!
4. The planner assigned to us says she will be visiting our swamp site this coming Wednesday or Thursday…or Friday, and from this visit will determine a) whether we can have the two stories we want, and b) whether we’re allowed to tear down the house that’s there.  (‘coz having a a structural engineer’s report saying the building isn’t stable as well as a demolition order from another branch of the council isn’t considered a good enough reason by the planners to tear the place down.  instead, what is supposedly good enough is the more-than-likely-non-engineer planner’s opinion on the matter.)  (taking a deep breath now….and release.)

Today’s theme song: Run Runaway by Slade.

(P.S. See that castle in the Slade video?  That’s Edinburgh Castle.  In 1997, thanks to my friend Stacey and the crazy, wacky things that happen to her, she and I were running around the inside of the castle at 3 o’clock in the morning with a Mr B. from the military police.  Ahhh…to be young again.)

 

Norwood Hall

It sounds like something straight out of a Jane Austin novel, doesn’t it?  Well, let me tell you, it looks like something straight out of a Jane Austin novel and some of the goings-on could have been a side-story in one of her novels…except for the nickname ‘Soapy’.  Legend has it that:

In 1861 the Pitfodels Land Company sold the property of Norwood to a Mrs Helen Morrison, wife of Baillie William Adamson a London stockbroker.  Mr Adamson had a fancy for the name of “Norwood” and gave it to the property where he built the house.

In 1868 two years after the death of Mr Adamson, his widow disposed of the property to John Taylor of Regents Park, London.  It was then resold again in 1872 to Colonel James “Soapy” Ogston, who partly rebuilt the house in 1881. He then moved his family across the River Dee to Blairs and gave the Norwood to his Mistress.

Norwood Hall is reputedly haunted by two ghosts. One is said to be the apparition of the Mistress of James Ogston. The poor woman despaired after Ogston would not leave his wife. The other is reputedly Ogston himself, and an apparition has been seen twice in the dining room in recent times.

My romantic bones were all a-quiver when I realised that our room belonged to the balcony on the right.

The rest of the pictures are a bit blurry or grainy, because I didn’t want to use the flash and wash out the dark, rich tones.  As you’re looking at the pictures, take a note of the sumptuous, textured wallpapers and the ornate wooden carvings.   (Please ignore the carpet.)

 

Dunecht Estate

Every morning on the way to work Graeme and I drive past these:

We believed it to be the entrance to a private estate, but always saw a variety of cars parked in the lot in front of the gates.  This led us to wondering whether, in fact, we were wrong, so two weeks ago, Graeme and I parked our car amongst the others, walked through the gates, and were not struck down by lightening.  So we ventured a little further, and then a little further than that.  And we found this:

Which led us past neatly ploughed fields to:

To the right of which was:

After I had conquered my house envy by telling myself how much cleaning I would need to do to keep something like that tidy (but secretly vowing to begin playing the lottery), Graeme and I continued walking along the road, past a golf course (members from a specific cachement area only, and only if two other members have invited you to join), enjoying the Autumn colours,

acting silly,

And generally enjoying the fine day and the fine walk, where we saw labrador retrievers in training, a skidder doing skidder-type things, horses, ducks, swans and even a heron.  None of which you can see in this next picture.

 

Lost Moments

Oooo…this could go in so many different directions.  I can hear you thinking: is she going to walk down maudlin lane and write about no longer being close enough to home to share in those special family times like Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Charlie’s new haircut? Or maybe she’s going to tell one of her funny I lost my wallet/purse/keys/your small child stories.

Well, you’re wrong.  (Except for Shawna…and Tanya.  I’m pretty sure they’ve guessed this one right)

This is all about my amazing ability to become lost in my own back yard even though I have a map and stop to look at it every five minutes when I’m driving somehwere moments.  And this moment, rather than leading me to a nice “woodland walk”, as promised by the brochure I had picked up (a brochure whose directions left much to be desired, I might add), meant that I found this:

This being Castle Drum.  It’s just a whole load of fairy-tale-awesome, isn’t it, my North American friends, whose young and upstart countries boast nothing like this.   No.  I’m sorry, but the Disney castle, Parliament Hill, and Casa Loma do not count.  Why?  Because they’re young – and the Disney castle is cheating, pure and simple.  (Make what you will of that statement!) Castle Drum, on the other hand, isn’t young.  The large, square tower you see is the oldest intact tower in Scotland and has been dated back to the 1200′s.  Also, it was home to one family for over 600 years.  (The history of the castle can be found here.)  It and another — not kidding — dozen-or-so castles are within a 40 minute drive of my house.  (In other words, there’ll be plenty more ‘lost moments’ like this one, I’m sure.)

And this, my friends, is Charlie:

Charlie