Edinburgh and Skye

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You may recall that last year, we were lucky enough to stay at the family home of some friends of ours. Well, we obviously behaved; the offer was there to stay for a week. I refer of course to Wester Bavelaw, near Edinburgh. Mum promptly fell in love with the Aga - this deserves some elucidation. An Aga is a giant stove/oven/plate warmer/ clothes dryer, built in the days when planned obsolescence was but the spark in some fiendish marketer’s eye. It is always on - like a fire, it gives a house its warmth. And can boil a kettle in seconds. Anyway. Scotland. Yes. Some houses had their floors reinforced to get an Aga in, they’re that heavy.
We spent two days at the Edinburgh festival, which was just right - lots of people and noise and general hubbub. Mon and I played the experienced festival-goers, with some aplomb: 5 shows in 2 days! The quality was variable, as expected, but it all made for a fun experience. We ate at favourite haunts and found a few more. Again, excessive consumption, cups of tea, etc.
We headed north. On our way was the Bean Family Seat at Causeway Head. It’s now a little shop, and somewhat underwhelming, but it was good to see where they came from (and why they left). The break from urbanised Scotland to the North is stark - main roads are just roads, and snake between looming hills. No motorways impose their directions here. Several hours brought us to the Skye Brige - we stayed on the mainland and visited Plockton, which we can thoroughly recommend.
Skye awaited. More bleak hills and remote villages. And, promisingly, hordes of tourists leaving. We wound our way to Portree, where a highly entertaining character (despite himself) took us on an unsuccessful boat trip to spot a sea-eagle. It was an open top boat - “Emergency exits are here, here and here.” Afterwards, we drove the northernmost tip of the Isle via the neanderthally-named Uig. Spied the Outer Hebrides, the edge of the the world... The drive back was peppered with towers, teas and turrets, as photos will show. Mon and Mary flew back to London from Edinburgh, while the folks and I had a couple of extra days at the mansion to flop. Mary’s last days in the UK were spent Mon in London and Windsor, as befits the traveller.

Oh yeah and the pictures are on the Brittany blog, cos I'm inept. Cheers, Chris

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