Slains Castle – Pictures by Jeff Allen

 

 

Slains Castle

Two of my cousins from Canada are here and they’ve brought some fab weather with them.

We’ve done a lot of driving around beautiful countryside and hit more castles in the past four days than I though was possible.  Our favourite, thought, has been the ruins of new Slains Castle, 

reported to be the inspiration for Bram Stoker’s Dracula who was supposedly staying in Cruden Bay during the writing of one of the novel’s drafts (Bram, not Dracula).

We’ve not been the first ones to visit, mind you, as proven by the graffiti found within one of the round towers.

The exterior promises a sprawling maze.

And the interior doesn’t disappoint.

And next time I’m bringing a flashlight so that I can explore the underground rooms, too.

The castle is built on the edge of a dramatic cliff line.  J (the tall one), took the most amazing photo of it: better than on any of the post cards we’ve seen.  (I’ll ask whether I can post it on here.)   My pictures of the castle from the cliff-side weren’t that great and so I will leave you with the following, instead.

 

Gordon Highlanders at Castle Crathes and a Dog…

…or, Why I Love this Country.

 

Taste of Grampian

Once a year at Thainstone Market the Taste of Grampian is held.  It’s billed as a ‘one-day food and drink festival’, but feels like a big, ol’ farmers market.  Last year it poured cats and dogs.  This year it was held on the one really hot day we’ll get all summer.  I’ve proof:

(See that tiny 31 in the right, upper corner?  That’s summer, that is.)

First there was the whiskey stall.

Then there was the beer stall.

Then there was the jam stall with the jam lady.

Then there was the jam stall with the jam tasting.  (Always a winner with hubby.)

Which had jam in fantastic, decorated jam boxes.  (Always a winner with me.)

And there were pipers (which is why I love this country).

And they were eating ice cream and that’s, like, two of my most favouritest things in the whole, wide world in the same space.

After hubby and I had had our fill, we headed off to a lovely restaurant on the outskirts of Oldmeldrum and overlooking Benachie, where I took pictures of hubby…

…and he took pictures of me.

Oh.  And we ate lunch, too.  And after we ate lunch, we took the scenic route home which led us to a cemetery just as the clouds turned purple and thunder began rolling in the distance and the air had that warm, still, pregnant feel to it which saturates all the colours.  Very atmospheric.

(But more of the cemetery the next post.)

(And, once again, click on the pictures to see a more defined picture.  I don’t know why, but these small ones I embed in the posts are always a bit fuzzy.)

 

Aberdeen Harbour

 

Hill o’ Fare

Last weekend, hubby and I woke up early (6am on Sunday…and we don’t have kids.  Ouch.), saw that the sun was shining and decided to go hillwalking — something we haven’t done for months and months and months and possibly over a year ago.

By the time we arrived at Hill o’ Fare, the sun had scarpered, but it was still lovely and warm, so we pushed on and it was well worth it.  Not only did we find out just how out-of-shape we truly are, but I found ACRES of blueberry bushes.  See all those young-green bushes?  Yep.  Blueberries.

How happy will I be come blueberry season?

Then halfway up the hill we came across a slow stream that pooled and there we discovered that rabbit tails actually grow on reeds.

And, at the top of the hill, not only could you see the whole of Garioch (pronounced GEAR-ee — don’t ask me why — with an almost rolled ‘r’), but there was also a plinth!

Today’s fun: Aberdeenshire spelling vs. pronunciation – Doric Call Centre

 

Want.

This is the adult play room in my friend’s house.  I want it.

Not convinced it’s all that great, yet?  What if I tell you it’s reached by going up?

Still not convinced?  What if I tell you that outside that window is this?

 

We’ll Pay for It

After reading my post Has a character worthy of retaining*, one of my friends (woodworker extraordinaire)  made the comment, “Aren’t British people supposed to be a little depressed? Maybe that’s what they are trying to preserve.”

He’s almost right.  He might be right if I were talking about the non-Scots Brits — I don’t know.  But we’re living in Scotland, which means that mildew grey as the first choice in colour isn’t a symptom of depression, it’s a symptom of Calvinism.  Perhaps best illustrated by Alastair Reid’s poem Scotland.

Scotland

It was a day peculiar to this piece of the planet,
when larks rose on long thin strings of singing
and the air shifted with the shimmer of actual angels.
Greenness entered the body. The grasses
shivered with presences, and sunlight
stayed like a halo on hair and heather and hills.
Walking into town, I saw, in a radiant raincoat,
the woman from the fish-shop. ‘What a day it is!’
cried I, like a sunstruck madman.
And what did she have to say for it?
Her brow grew bleak, her ancestors raged in their graves
as she spoke with their ancient misery:
‘We’ll pay for it, we’ll pay for it, we’ll pay for it!’

And perhaps best poked fun at in the book The Wee Book of Calvin, by Bill Duncan, that Graeme and I discovered in a book shop the other year.  It’s packed full of wee gems, such as:

• You might be a Calvinist if your favourite candy is Fisherman’s Friend.
• The bonniest flooer oft wilts the quickest.
• Dinnae expect onything an yell no be disappointed.

Think you might be a Calvinist?  Take this test and see whether you have what it takes to live in Scotland.

*Note: had a meeting with the planners today and things aren’t as dire as they seem.  More to come at a later date.