I was rummaging through papers and folders, looking for something that I thought I knew where I had placed, but didn't, and I came across the little notebook I had taken with me to record the journal of my second trip to Scotland in the year 2002. For the next couple of hours, I was entranced by the memories that small ledger brought back to me.
I shunned hotels and motels on this trip, and had scheduled myself to stay in bed and breakfasts along the way. If ever I have the joy of taking another such trip . . . I will do no other. The experience was absolutely marvellous. I met the nicest and most accomodating people in the world, stayed in lovely homes, and shared delightful meals with my hosts. It, incidentally, is also a lot more economical.
One of my most delightful experiences was with a couple in South Queensferry, Scotland, he an employee of IBM and she a stay-at-home manager of the bed and breakfast and an artist. They had a sleek cat, a squirrel, and an almost tame golden pheasant named "Chudley." Chudley was the ****-o-the-walk around the yard, and would, when he could, stomp on your foot until you threw him some peanuts.
The house sat on almost a cliff (not quite straight up and down) overlooking the Firth of Forth about 10 miles west of Edinburgh. South Queensferry has been there since before 1070. The "Queen" in Queensferry refers to Queen Margaret, the wife of Malcolm III. She set up a church in Dunfermline, where she had married Malcolm in 1070. This rapidly became a place of pilgrimage leading to increasing demand for transport across the Forth Estuary. The Queen's Ferry, paid for by Margaret and operated by monks from Dunfermline, was the result.
The owners of the house I stayed in were atheists. They had not always been . . . but something had happened in their lives that they had forsaken God. They were straightforward in telling me they were atheists, but silent as to why. They were great hosts. He was a sailor, and owned and raced a sailboat with three or four others. He was also a connoseuir of whiskey and had an entire wall covered with collections of whiskey from all over the world, especially "ouisge beatha", scotch whiskey, or "water of life." He was well versed in the history of that commodity.
I stayed there five nights . . . and one of those nights, for some reason, I had a hard time sleeping. It could have been excitement over that day's discoveries, anticipation of the next day's journey, whatever. Regardless, it ended with me sitting up in the wee hours, about two or three a.m., and writing a poem of my feelings toward Scotland which I called "Aye, God, 'e marvelled Scotland."
That morning at breakfast the question was asked whether I had slept well, and I stated my experience, telling them about writing the poem in the early hours. They asked me to read it to them, and though I was a little skeptical, knowing their lack of belief, and the subject of my poetic striving, I went to my room, got the poem, and read it.
They had a Guest Book in the hallway in which their visitors would register their name, address and any comment they wanted to make. Both of them insisted that I indite my effort in the Guest Book. Under the circumstances, I've since felt exceptionally honored to have done so.
The poem is transcribed herewith:
Aye, God, Ye Marvelled Scotland I peered across the craigs an' bens frame mighty tors to lovely glens 'crost lochs, an' bogs, an' moors, an' fens . . .
Aye, God, 'e marvelled Scotland!
Scottish broom as bright as gold an' lupins blue, an' bright, an' bold fairies 'mongst them now, aym told Aye, God, 'e marvelled Scotland!
Tha buildins' are auld, an' all in stane an' Thanes of auld all live again wi' thair kilts an' trews, an' all amain Aye, God, 'e marvelled Scotland!
A two-pound coin has the Queen's ain face an' 'er knickers air trimmed wi' a bit o' lace 'e can spend it on ouisge, or a bit o' a race Aye, God, 'e marvelled Scotland!
A red-haired gairl be a Scotsman's wife an' a skein dubh, hid, his savior knife an' he laughs in the face of any strife Aye, God, 'e marvelled Scotland!
I think what got me started thinking was a book of Anne Marie's that I had read that afternoon which had the following ditty in it:
Down the close an' up the stair But ane been wi' Burke an' Hare Burke's the butcher, Hare's the thief Knox the man that buys the beef.
This was a political parody written in Knox's day when his physician bought cadavers for dissecting.
If you want to learn sth about Estonia in a funny way, go to http://uncyclopedia.org/wiki/Estonia Just remeber that most of it is tongue-in-cheek, though it has elements of truth hidden between the lines :)
Hello Heili, now that is a very interesting site, I must admit I had a grin on my face as I read through it, very, very tongue in cheek as you said, I am going to study it again to see what is "between the lines", regards Rabbie.
