[originally an email to the morgueatlarge list, sent June 2003]
I know, it’s been a while, yadda yadda.
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After returning from my familial European adventure, and a day in London catching up with All They Folk There, I returned to work for an almost-week. Public Enemy played in Glasgow and I didn’t go, on account of not being able to go, but it still rankles.
Family reconvened midweek in sunny Edinburgh. This was the glorious Scottish Easter. Lovely. Fated, I’m told, not to last, but we’ll refrain from talking about it in case of any jinxwards movement. We wandered Edinburgh and in particular my personal stomping grounds. We dined in a Genuine Scottish Pub TM and haggis & neeps was et in combination. The Meadows was a lovely place for a night-time stroll but the trees were bare; less than a week later it was an impenetrable fog of pink petals. I busied myself in my office as family saw Edinburgh Castle and the other usuals, and we sorted ourselves out for Next Phase: the Easter road trip.
We had arranged specifically to go on a road trip over Easter, on account of me not having certainty that I’d be off work. Unfortunately, it was Easter, and it was glorious, and everyone else had the same idea. Not the best planning. Nevertheless we claimed a hired car and hit the road (with only a minor backtrack when I realised the car had a CD player and thus I could listen to CDs, something I hadn’t been able to do for two months). Good sounds. Sunshine. Glasgow. Traffic. Crawl
and crawl
and crawl
and crawl
until
we
were
THROUGH
and then it was free and clear and we hit the road into the fabled highlands. As we drove I wondered whether we had taken the high road or the low road to Scotland. On the ‘high road’ side, we were all of the most impeccable character. On the ‘low road’ side, we were a family from the uncouth depths of the Hutt with Shihad up loud on the stereo. I decided we came down on the high road, but only because the stompy music wasn’t up *that* loud.
[aside – Pacifier aka Shihad charted on MTV2’s top 20 in the US! Kiwi music oi! www.pacifierband.com]
And, as the song says, we reached the bonnie bonnie backs of Loch Lomond. And they were indeed Bonnie. The place is stunning, hence the song, hence the tourists circling through, hence my fond memories, hence the filming of ‘Take the High Road’ on location there.
[aside – ‘Take the High Road’ was a long-running Scottish soap, and it had a lot of personal talismanic importance. You see, I watched five minutes of it when I was about thirteen and all that happened in that eternal five minutes was two women lamenting the fact that the cat was under the bed and wouldn’t come out. Those of you who knew me in my teenage years may remember me making bewildered, awestruck, appalled reference to this fabled zen-meditativisual experience.]
Didn’t explain the traditional tearooms, which were a much more vivid trip into the distant past than any castle tour I’ve been on so far. The shudders I felt were genuine. Still – Shandy in a can, it can’t all be bad!
Onwards. We drove past Loch Ness (no monster) and through skifields (no snow) and I can confirm that, yes, the Highlands really are as beautiful as they say. I guess I am officially joining the they on this. (Don’t worry, Leon, I’m still one of the ‘us’-es apart from this.) A long drive, but it was actually a great way to experience the countryside, and appreciate how different it was and how quickly the changes came.
Inverness, to a B&B; and a pleasant wee wander. Nice town. Very pretty.
Onwards the next day. We made our way to Culloden, site of the infamous battle that was the final death of the Scottish struggle for independence, and a horrific war crime to boot – the English slaughtered the surrendered Scots and hunted down those who escaped, killing them and those who sheltered them, and all because of falsified documents indicating the Scots intended to slaughter the English the same way. This was only in the middle of the 17th century, the fairly recent past by northern hemisphere standards.
As it happened, we arrived at Culloden, utterly by co-incidence, half an hour before the anniversary service marking the battle. It was a moving gathering of men and women, some from a great distance (including a Kiwi who, inevitably, was connected to someone we know). A professor in Scots culture from Edinburgh University spoke, and it was a good speech, recognising that the wounds of the past cannot be wished out of existence, yet finding some positive meaning in the occasion.
It’s a nice place. The information centre is well-realised, the site itself is simply and honestly marked, four flags marking the corners of the battlefield. I wandered alone over the stumpy ground for a few minutes,
after the pipers had finished and the memorial ceremony had turned to talking. And it got to me, to be quite honest. My family tree would have branches that lead here, to this field. One of the many reasons for coming here was to connect with my ancestral heritage, and here it was beneath my feet, buried in a mire of misled hopes and butchery. And overhead the sun was shining and the sky a brilliant blue.
There was more to the trip, of course. Aberdeen, showing up my scepticism about it’s ‘sparkling granite’ by living up to its claims of beauty. Finding the neighbourhood, if not the street, where my grandmother was born. Watching the RSC’s production of Rushdie’s sprawling ‘Midnight’s Children’. Balmoral Castle. The tiny village of Geddes, which is my mother’s maiden name, my middle name, undoubtedly a corner that gave rise to part of us. Chaos in the roads of Dundee. And feeling every moment.
And then it was time to say goodbye. My parents first, disappearing behind the closing door of their hotel room. Then my brother, off on his own round of adventures (that would eventually take him to scenic Auch with its cathedral and its statue of d’Artagnan). And the family was done and gone, and me in Edinburgh still, making it homely even if it isn’t my home.
I love this town.
—–
And as one time falls, another rises. July 9 my girlfriend Caroline arrives in the UK. We tried being single and on different sides of the world, and it just didn’t seem to work.
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I meant to write here about the trip I made to Loch Earn where Naomi, last seen as my travel buddy in Greece & Rome way back in September, is working at a Four Seasons. I’ll just say it was cool, and I met some great people, and the scenery was great. Yay!
And also I wanted to write about the wonderful bonfire I was at a few nights ago, held in the lush Salisbury Centre garden to farewell Willie on his onward path towards Ireland. Most importantly, the spontaneous lecture covering 2500 years of Greek history delivered by an enthusiastic Greek, making full use of whiteboard and whiteboard marker. An odd party to be sure, but glorious in its attention to simple pleasures.
But instead I’m going to go and buy some food and go home and eat it.
—-
Shouts to Judith,
and to the defuncting flat of JustinSamFishKirstenRichie, scene of many good times
and to Sophie, because.
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Find out what I thought of Matrix Reloaded here (click on ‘comments’ for may 23): http://www.additiverich.com/
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Love and Peace
morgue