So the last few days have been wonderful and action packed, which is why we haven't been able to update the blog in awhile. On Monday Meg and I took the Fife Coastal Path from the nearby town of Crail to Anstruther in order to take in a wonderful view of the Scottish coastline. (and eat some of the of best fish and chips in all of Britain)
The minute we got off the bus in Crail it felt like we had been transported to the beginning of the 20th Century. The streets were lined with old fasioned cottages and the air smelled like a mixture of the ocean and peat-fed fires. There were tons of little side-streets and alley ways, not to mention lots of old school businesses like bakeries, tea rooms, and butcher shops. We made sure to explore this awesome little town before starting off along the coastline.
If Crail felt like the early 20th century, the Fife Coastal Path felt centuries older. Once we made it about a half mile outside of Crail, we were completely alone. No buildings, no roads, just rocky outcrops and beautiful waterscapes. What really added to the scene was the wind, which was buffeting us the entire trip. We were quite a pair by the time we got to Anstruther with our wind-blown hair and wind-burned faces. (mine was redder than normal!) We ended up coming across some more old coastal houses that had long been abandoned, as well as some beautiful caves that apparently housed early Christian converts who hid with St. Somebodyorother to avoid persecution. Those Christians must have known how to party, because because they left a lot of empty beer bottles and burnt out cigarettes. All in all the walk was a little over four miles over pretty rugged terrain, and by the time we got to Anstruther we were famished. Luckily, it happens to be the home of some of the most famous fish and chips in Britain. There are a number of pictures of Camilla outside of the Anstruther Fish Bar holding a to-go bag. They were good enough for the likes of Meg and me, too. After a nice afternoon's walk, we took the bus home, kicked back, and relaxed at home.
The next day we decided to head out to Glamis Castle (pronounced Glams), which is the ancestral home of the Earls of Strathmore and Kinghorne. The 18th Earl still owns the place, and lives at the back of this huge estate with his second wife. (if you want to read about his first wife and their juicy divorce, take a look at his wikipedia page. Let's just say it wouldn't be unfair to call him the
Charlie Sheen of Scottish Nobility. Glamis is best known as the birthplace and childhood home of the late, great Queen Mum. Before she was known for cutting ribbons and wearing brightly-colored hats while riding in carriages, she lived the idyllic country life of the daughter of a common
Earl. Dreams really can come true. (If you marry the younger brother of the heir to the British throne, who in turn becomes king after said brother runs away with a divorced socialite from Baltimore.)
Glamis was gorgeous, as the pictures can attest. Unfortunately, they don't let you take pictures inside of the castle, but the outer grounds were enough. It's situated in the middle of open fields that are inhabited by pheasants, bunnies, and Highland Cows. (pronounced "Highland cooooooooooooooooooo." Not kidding about that, except for a few of the o's; but only a few.) Also, that was the first time I had seen a pheasant without a gun in my hand, and it didn't feel right. The fields were ringed by a pine forrest that the current Earl helped rejuvenate, considering that most of the trees in Scotland were felled long ago. This place had everything, ranging from an exquisite, victorian-era, portrait-ladened dining room to a medieval crypt full of arms and armor. There was even a whole wing called "the royal suite," which the Queen Mum's Mum designed specifically for the then Duke and Duchess of York, who spent part of their honeymoon at Glamis. (One might say that all of these rooms were rather
Glamisorous... Had to do it.) Once Edward became George VI, the family spent many a vacation there, and the Queen Mum was apparently insistent that at least one of her children - Margaret, not the other one, whose name eludes me at the moment - be born there. Our cab driver told us that William and Harry used to race dune buggies up and down the castle's long driveway when they would visit their Scottish cousins as weeeeeeeeeee lads. I think the best part of the entire visit, though, had to be when we stumbled across what turned out to be the family's pet cemetery. When I first saw the headstones, I thought they were for some of the family members. In reality, they were for a few family dogs and a guinea pig named "Happy," who lived from 1993-1997. He was a gentle and caring soul who will be missed by all. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, amen. (The weird thing is, though, one of the headstones had a legit name on it as well as a military unit, so I think that was a person. Don't know who that dude pissed off, but hey, overall not a bad place for a final resting place)
It's an investment property. A little drafty in the winter, but with a little bit of work on the weekends it'll be just adorable!
Apparently the only way Meg could get a picture of me with my eyes open was to shoot my back. That's what she told me, at least. I think she's trying to protect my feelings...
iiiiiitchy. I had the strongest urge to jump over the fence and trim their bangs, but I also had an even stronger urge not to get gored.
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