Through the Window

Ok. Not a window really, more like a slit. Yes, it's one of those ubiquitous tourist photos that nearly every person that walks into Stirling Castle takes. However, I'm hoping that since I was at the far end of the Castle grounds on a walk that is not trod so often, that perhaps this one is a little unique. And, well frankly, it was a damn fine vantage. Sadly, I don't recall which direction I'm facing, but I believe it to be Southeast-ish. If anyone knows for sure, I'd love to edit this entry with that information. This photo, like so many taken on these dreary overcast days with a new camera, was a little grey. So, I've applied some saturation & contrast changes to it and added a 50% overlay to it. But since the colours really are that vibrant I don't feel the slightest bit guilty about modifying the image as necessary. ;-) Wastrel On! (Listening To: Fire in the Head by Emerald Rose & Personally by Karla Bonoff)

George at the Castle

Stirling Castle. You can see the view it commanded of the surrounding area. Is it any wonder that the Scots were desperate that it not fall into the hands of the English? My very good friend, George, is in this photo as the foreground to the amazing view in the background. If you ever have the pleasure of meeting George (Dr. George), you will never again find yourself a better man nor friend. A truly amazing human. Anyway, he's standing on the battlement that rings the garden just outside the foreworks of the castle. The garden lawn is inside the castle grounds & it's outer defences, but not inside the Castle itself. The Castle begins when you go through the forework gate (and past the arrow-slitted towers and murder holes) and into the Outer Close. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Miles Davis' Funeral by Morphine & New York, New York by Frank Sinatra)

Robert the Bruce

We left the Bridge of Allan brewery and headed directly to Stirling Castle. Apparently we were under some sort of schedule; I certainly felt like I was being hustled about. Anyway this pigeon-shit covered statue guards the entrance to the castle with his regal pose & humongous sword. An ancestor of mine, in some sort of round-about way, he nearly destroyed this castle in the early 1300's. Not wanting this strategically defensible castle to fall into the hands of the English (Edward Longshanks, the Hammer of the Scots), he blew chunks of it to bits with cannon. Apparently, at some point, he came to his senses, because the magnificent castle remains standing. Historic Scotland (a preservation organisation) owns the property now and have recently "completed" a HUGE renovation project that restored the Great Hall to it's original majestic glory. A true sight to behold. Wastrel On! (Listening To: If I Had My Way by Vince Gill)

The Bridge of Allan Brewery

Bridge of Allan, Scotland. Near, but not in, Edinburgh and close enough that we did this wonderful little brewery before heading into Edinburgh to visit the castle (a MUCH curtailed trip that is an entire entry of itself...if I choose to record it). Here, my wee wife had located, prior to the trip, a brewery. A brewery that was able to and interested in providing private tour for a batch of American tourists. We were treated to discourse by two delightfully knowledgeable men who taught us more in half of an hour than I had learned in several tours through several breweries in my life. It was a thoroughly enjoyable visit with some truly excellent, world-class brews. They even make, for the wee-ones and non-drinkers a wonderful variety of sodas. Their creme-de-la-crème is a masterful Scotch Ale that, sadly, wasn't available to us on this visit. However, Joseph & Kelly went back to Edinburgh as we all vacated New Milne and scattered across the isle (or back across to the U.S.) and picked up a foursome of it. They gladly shared it with Marita Beth & I when we met up in London a week later. Overall the Bridge of Allan brewery is a short, but delightful memory. Wastrel On! (Listening To: A live version of Fried Neckbones by Santana)

The Keg & Inverness Thistle Football Club

We've left Urquhart Castle and returned to Inverness via a meandering bus ride. I spy The Keg. I nipped into this unassuming little pub down a sidestreet in Inverness for a wee-heavy, while my wife was kitsch-shopping up the avenue a bit. No sooner had I purchased my half 80, then in comes my wife with a look of avid concern on her face. It seems that the proprietor of the shop up the street had warned her against the "unsavoury types" that frequented the Keg. My belief? I think the proprietor just wasn't an Inverness Thistle Football Club fan. In the upper left corner of the photo, next to a security camera, you can see a sign proudly proclaiming that this was the Inverness Thistle FC Social Club. On the look, it appears that the "Social Club" is next door, but that's not the reality. Now I don't support any particular Scottish Football team, other than the national, of course, and I certainly was not about to go into a pub wearing the "colours" of another team. Thus, I walked in with no fear, ordered by half-pint and sat to enjoy a spot of local culture. Now along comes my wife with this near-angry, half-mad look, so I downed my libation quickly and left. It wasn't until we got out into the alley that she explained what was going on. I s'pose I'll never fully be able to explain to her, that footy fans are the same the world-over; that is, we're just fans. Sure there are a few hooligans out there that try to wreck the fun for the rest of us, but most of us just want to watch our boys run around the pitch while drinking with our fellow supporters, hollering at the stupidity or brilliance of our team & cussing at the offical; all from the sanctity of our pub (social club). I guess if there had been a game on (we were there in off-season, so there wasn't), she might have understood it a little, but she doesn't quite get the rabidity with which we approach the world's game. So, I left with her on my arm, and nary a look back. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Frankenstein by Aimee Mann)