Perhaps it was having to read the million-page Great Expectations in the third grade in order to get my $5/week allowance from my dad, who was clearly channeling another Dickens novel (Scrooge!), or sighing over Jane Eyre when puberty was calling, or watching shows like Benny Hill with my grandpa, or just growing up in the 80's with an older sister who was into punk... whatever the reasons, my love is deep -- the UK is my mecca. And I will do everything in my parental-brainwashing power -- read every piece of good literature, expose them to every ridiculously brilliant band, and withhold every British food item that doesn't have Cadbury scrawled across it, in an attempt to pass this love on to my children. They had such a fun day today that I doubt it will be too difficult. I can breathe easy.
We started off by perusing the National Museum of Scotland. It's free, and it's pretty awesome. As always happens, I left wanting to know more. I definitely want to read more about Mary Queen of Scots. And I just googled the Bont Tick (why? because they had a model in a case and The Sister and I were like: there is no way that is to scale -- it would be like the size of your stomach... As it turns out, while the tropical variety can get to 2-3 centimeters when engorged, they are in fact not the size of dinner plates... whew). And I feel more satiated. Once I swore to a friend that I saw an enormous gull/albatross and I was mocked. Today I found out about the mutant wandering albatross and felt vindicated (note: that model WAS to scale).
I think the museums do the same for the kids -- they are granted some answers, and they discover new questions. One question that The Girl had about Dolly the cloned sheep was: why? She wouldn't go and look at her because she was so distraught. She knows that the cloned animals don't usually fair so well, and so she thinks that scientists should not be creating them if they are destined to suffer. Perhaps, overall, more animals will be helped by cloning? She wasn't biting.
We saw the Lewis Chessman and Bonnie Prince Charlie's silver canteen. "He actually touched that," I said. "He drank from it," The Boy said reverently. Before this trip he didn't even know about BPC. We still don't know much, except that he had a lovely canteen. The Boy also -- from across a room -- spotted a Kongo power figure and after confirming it was what he declared it to be, kind of puffed out his chest a bit and said, "Just as I thought." Museums can also make us feel accomplished by confirming what we know.
Before the trip The Dad checked out from the library the most gosh-awful movie about Greyfriars Bobby. The sweet story of loyalty and being constant did not rise to the surface. Consequently, the picture that we took with the kids in front of the Skye Terrier's statue is priceless, they are both looking like little punks with bitter eyes and snarled lips. The more anonymous picture here...
We walked past the Elephant House cafe where Harry Potter was mostly written, and I'll have to say that the enormous picture in the window saying as much is a wee bit obnoxious. It did push Rowling to the front of my mind as we wandered Edinburgh. I don't think it's any mistake that the cool world -- the magical world -- is of ancient, timeless stone buildings, cobblestone, and closes and wynds. Hogwarts is not magicked into something sleek and modern and convenient and efficient every year. Instead it is a place where the inconveniences that come with something very old are considered valuable and part of the education. Anyway.
The Castle is prettiest at night with the flood lights on it, but still worth seeing in the day. We strolled up to it and got an ice cream cone.
While going for the guard, I'm glad that I captured these girlies in a school tour. Why?Because earlier they had been caught checking out my baby boy, and this should be documented. The Sister and I could not stop laughing. Especially because when we told him what had happened he looked up at us with a lush strawberry ice cream mustache and said with a wicked-twinkly smile, "Really?" Holy smokes. He's in the 5th grade next year. I remember kids playing spin the bottle by 6th grade... The little tarts.
After walking together through the Princes Street Gardens we split up. The Sister and I went to check out the shopping. The unfortunate thing is that most of the cool Scottish department stores have given way to H&M-type stores. I did find two treasures: the best pair of shoes ever:
And the most classic Scottish item for our home -- a stag's head (having toured some Scottish castles I've learned that Scottish decor can be summed up in one word: antlers). A stag's head? Yes! The House of Fraser is still holding its ground on Princes Street and The Sister discovered an elegant metal, powder-coated stag's head trophy on sale. Undoubtedly my suitcase is going to be opened at the airport, but it's worth having somebody in plastic gloves (that surely don't get changed between inspections) rummaging around our stuff.
We also rounded out the shopping experiences by going into some of the Scotland tourist shops. We didn't buy anything -- mostly we just like looking at the posters of men in traditional Scottish wear. Nothing (NOTHNG) is more attractive then a man in a kilt. Seriously. It does something to me. Right -- this blog is about homeschooling the kids... moving on...
And what were the little darlings up to (and the man of the family who should absolutely be wearing kilts with knee socks)? First they went to a fun playground in the gardens, and after properly limbering up they walked to the top of the Walter Scott monument (287 steps up -- and back down!). They then went and checked out an elongated, elevated coo we had seen when we rolled into the city (picture courtesy of The Boy's camera -- feeling that it should be on the blog he used my phone to take a picture of his camera screen).
They also checked out a joke shop "with Groucho Marx glasses on the outside" that The Boy also spotted when we drove into the city: Aha Ha Ha. While there they came up with the cutest trick. They bought masks to wear (one pound/mask), and when they pulled up to pick us up they were wearing them (well, The Dad couldn't wear his and drive, so he had to fumble to get in costume). It was incredibly fun to see them through the window, and feel the ripples of laughter and energy engulf us when we opened the car doors.
On our way out of Edinburgh we stopped at Costco. Sounds ridiculous, but on our travels we have found Costco to often have cool local items. In this case, we found some great book collections that usually run around eighty pounds, for ten pounds.
Time to leave Scotland. Our next destination: The Lake District.
Ullswater was the first lake that we saw, and shortly thereafter we stopped for a short hike to Aira Force.
Now, I know that I posited a couple of nights ago that the drive through Glencoe might be the prettiest, but I think that driving the hilly, windy roads in Cumbria might tie for that distinction. It is shockingly beautiful, and the tightness and up-and-downness make it a sensory experience. We had to stop several times, not just to let oncoming cars squeeze past, but also to let excapee-sheep meander across the road (we still haven't tired of our sheep -- The Girl has been asking if anybody would notice if one was "adopted").
The kids were mocking me because I kept telling them to drink it all in. I wish I could explain how life really doesn't get any better than being with people you love while surrounded by beauty and peace. But that is something that they will learn after a couple more decades. For now they can assume that there is something more fulfilling to come, and so look out the window with only a mild interest.
During the summer the Lake District is over-run. Those charming streets can become maddening as you try to navigate amongst a lot of other cars also jockeying for positions. But summer hasn't started yet. Right now it feels sweet and calm. Which is how the area should be. The children loved the ever-so sweet and calm book Swallows and Amazons, and as a treat The Dad secured lodging for the next three nights at Bank Ground Farm -- known in the book as Holly Howe. There was some walking about tonight (getting acquainted with the local mosquitoes), but the real exploration begins tomorrow.
