The Cast of Characters:

After Jane took us into the center of Glasgow, George Square, to get our Heritage passes, we stopped at a Sainsbury Supermarket to get food for breakfast (and dinner tonight if A&M are not able to stay awake for a dinner at a restaurant after their flight from LA). Jane and Ian called a friend of theirs who used to be a chef in Stirling (where we are staying) and gave us the name of a restaurant he recommended. We booked for 7:00 pm (or 19:00 as it is called here).

We will spend the first week at the Coach House in Stirling. Ann and I drove out to the house before picking up A&M to see it and drop off the food we bought. This is a one-year-old purpose built self-catering house. It is located halfway between Glasgow and Edinburgh about twenty minutes north of their midpoint. With German and Mary not able to make the trip, the house is VERY roomy. Our house is very well appointed – just outstanding - great job finding it, Ann. What we have is a four bedroom, three-bath house, a large lounge with three leather sofas and a 42 inch plasma TV, huge kitchen, dining area, and an upstairs lounge with another TV. The house is located on a working farm, Cowden Farm. Gavin, the owner was harvesting wheat with a small combine as we arrived. Linzi, his wife, was the person Ann has been corresponding with by email for the past six months. We find ourselves surrounded on all four sides with fields of ripe, golden wheat. Off the motorway, then off a minor road, we take a single-track road for about a mile through rural fields to the house. As isolated as we are here, we are less than 5 minutes from the motorway. Stirling Castle, located on a high outcropping of volcanic rock just past a hill outside our door, dominates our valley.

After driving back to Glasgow Airport, we picked up Allan and Marian right on schedule. Showing them the house, we all decided we could live here for more than a week.

Dinner was at the recommended restaurant, Hermann’s, one block from Stirling Castle in a 17th century manor house. Although the meal for the four of us was very nice – white table clothes, etc, four fish entrees, three glasses of wine (I was driving) and one dessert totaled $170. Ouch. I do not think this will be a regular event on our tour. Although a surcharge might have been added for us being loud Americans. Yes, the locals stared at our laughing – a lot. I would have been embarrassed but we, as Americans, do have a stereotype to maintain, don’t we?

We have arrived back from our trip today to the Kingdom of Fife. Allan took the controls and drove our Skoda to St. Andrews. He has driven on the “wrong” side of the road when living in Japan. He though the idea of a manual transmission was a cruel joke though. Shifting with the left hand is just plain odd. I was truly impressed; Allan did a superior job. If driving did not take so much attention away from sightseeing, I would have him drive all the time. To keep it all in the family, when I drive Ann navigates in the shotgun position. When Allan drives, Marian navigates. If we do not do it this way, I would be divorcing Marian, and Allan would be divorcing Ann. That is just wrong. You cannot divorce your sibling can you, Laurel?

We walked through the Old Course at St. Andrews, St. Andrews Cathedral ruins, and St. Andrews Castle ruins. The weather was brilliant blue skies, drenching rain, brilliant blue skies, drizzle, and grey overcast, beautiful white fluffy clouds. As the weatherman said today, “We will have a diversity of autumn weather.” Amazingly, this was a correct weather diagnosis for once!

After St. Andrews, we drove down to the East Neuk of Fife to four quaint fishing villages along the coast on the Firth of Forth: Crail, Anstruther, Pittenweem and St. Monans. I have a new most hated village ever in the East Neuk of Fife: St. Monans. As I was driving up the steep hill from the harbor, I met a nice woman driving DOWN the single-track road toward me in a huge Land Rover. Stalemate. I drove into a parking area so she could pass me. Of course, SHE wanted to drive into the same parking area but I was blocking her. I began to back up down the hill. But the idiot behind me decided to pass me (Remember, this is a single-track road) at the exact moment I began backing up to get out of the parking area. I almost hit him. However, he continued to pass me (I have no idea how) and drove into the SAME parking area I was in and the downhill lady wished to get into. After seeing this, the downhill lady began backing up the hill laughing at me the whole way, to a point where I could pass her. Unfortunately, this road led into a dead end requiring a turnabout: The ultimate insult.

At home, it was a dinner of fresh pasta and sauce cooked by the ladies with a green salad, baguette and a Spanish Rioja for drinking. This was a great meal well within our budget!

Susie hailed a taxi instead and the five of us climbed in heading for central Edinburgh. The taxi drove to a point about a mile from the Royal Mile. We walked to Susie’s favorite place, Pete’s, for a cup of well-deserved coffee. Allan and Ann had lattes, Marian had a cappuccino and I had black coffee. They thought the coffees were some of the best they had ever tasted. My black coffee was staggeringly strong - and I like coffee strong. After copious amounts of sugar and milk it was tamed enough to drink. Allan and Marian immediately recognized Susie. She and he sister Katherine had spent a weekend with them in Irvine when they lived there in 1990. After about an hour of conversation and reminiscing it was time to get to the business of tourism.

Shopping on the main tourist street, the Royal Mile, in the late morning, Susie then led us to the restaurant where she had booked a table for lunch at half twelve (12:30). She left since she could not take all day off as she was taking next Friday off to fly to Islay to be with us next weekend at Alistair and Judy’s.

For lunch at the Outsider, I had a chilli [sic] burger and chips. Why not? Since our friends the Brennans are always in search of the perfect burger, I thought I would try a Scottish twist on this All-American delicacy. For John and Lisa: This was the best burger I have ever had - Gruyere cheese, huge Scottish Angus beef patty, hot chilis in the meat and a sweet red chili sauce over the meat with the perfect bun. The fries were better than McDonalds, who even Julia Child, that famous French cuisine expert, says are the best.

After that gut-busting meal, we headed UP to Edinburgh Castle. As we reached the top of the castle at Margaret’s Chapel, built in the early 1100s, the dreaded weather hit. The wind howled, the rain came down and life was difficult. We spent most of our time inside the castle rooms fortunately.

Since it was raining and very windy we went into the restaurant Susie had suggested for dinner even though it was only 5:30 (we weren’t hungry yet). We were advised not to try to leave Edinburgh on a Friday evening until after 7 pm due to excessive commute congestion. In the restaurant, Le Sept, we met the perfect French waiter/owner except he only acted French – rude. First, we were told we could only have the table until 7 pm, if not eating, then he told Marian he did not want her wet coat on his seat. It was covered with vinyl! This would have almost been understandable if he were not dressed in Levis and a faded, ratty golf shirt. Oh, and he had not shaved for a while. And he was about 50 years old, overweight and had the attitude of a condescending jerk. We left well before 7 pm – as soon as the rain let up a little.

Hailing a taxi back to the car in the rain and traffic congestion was expensive. We watched as the $10 on the meter doubled as we remained motionless for 15 minutes only 10 blocks from where we parked the car. If it were not pounding rain at this time we would have gotten out and walked. We drove home to Stirling. Now we were hungry. In town we found a bar/pub called the Outback. It was Aussie themed but the only thing Aussie was the Fosters Beer they had. It was now almost 9 pm on a Friday night in a local, not tourist, pub and nobody in the world gets drunk better or faster than a Scot on a weekend. Everyone was well on their way to oblivion. The four of us pushed and shoved locals to get to a table in the back. Ordering the pints at the bar, I asked the barmaid if they served food (I had found a menu) and she had to ask another barmaid. This was not a good sign! Long story short, it was a fantastic meal among loud, singing, spilling drunks. Enough for one day, we fell into bed for the last night at the Coach House.

Snag in the plans! Marian is not feeling well, did not sleep last night and apparently has the dreaded Allan-her-husband’s virus from Stirling, which will incapacitate her for 24 hours and leave her ready to travel well again. She was so quiet in the back seat we thought we had left her in Dufftown.

We stopped off at the Culloden Battlefield. Ann and I had been there in 1971. It was only a moor where a battle was fought against the British in 1746 when we last visited. Today it is a multi-media historical happening in a huge building opened just over four months ago. I learned more about this one-hour battle in the one hour there than I imagined possible. From the Scottish Jacobite side and the British side the events leading up to, during and after the battle were vividly explained. The finale was a huge horizontal video screen say 5’x12’ which ran a computer simulated movement of troops in the battle showing the terrain with an audio description as events played out. This was an outstanding time well spent. All this for the final battle fought against the British. One in which the Scots were soundly trounced. Apparently, the Scots are celebrating the agony of defeat. Or the English showing their triumph.

Lunch was for once NOT a loud embarrassing event for the three of us. Without Marian, we three were as quiet in the restaurant as were the well-mannered British tables. Marian was asleep in the back seat of the car out in parking lot the whole time.

After many more hours spent driving than anticipated, we arrived on the Isle of Skye. Now we only needed to get to our B&B, Carters Rest. The day had turned warm and sunny after a windy cold morning at Culloden. We drove across the island on a winding two-lane road. Then we hit the town of Dunvegan. From there to our B&B we drove on 10 miles of twisting, turning, up and down single track roads with turnouts for passing. Finally, we arrived.

I wished a unique experience for A&M and booked this place at the furthest point west on the Isle of Skye from the bridge. Here are some words to describe it: rural, sparse, lonely, windy, beautiful, awesome, and unforgettable. The B&B is two years old and in magnificent condition. We look out our window to see the Isle of Uist in the Outer Hebridean Islands. This is a special place, possibly the most romantic, remote location imaginable.

Ann and I went out to a restaurant in Dunvegan ten miles (30 minutes each way on the single track road) away for dinner while Allan stayed home with poor Marian. We went to the only place in this remote part of Skye open on a Sunday night. The food was edible but straight out of the freezer. It was filling but lacking in inspiration - much like the hotel where it was located. We brought home two cheese and tomato sandwiches for A&M.