Chester, Caernarfon, Shrewsbury, Cheltenham, High Wycombe

Sorry for the long time in between posts!

Chester
We'd love to share Chester with you, but it would take forever - suffice to say it was awesome! With its history since 43AD alive in every aspect of town, it is an historian's dream town. The Romans arrived in 43AD and walled the city to protect it against the Welsh. In fact, the port of Chester was, for centuries, the main port of that part of the UK - and it was only because a mill owner built a weir across the river - which made it silt up - that Liverpool became a major port! The Saxons came next, and we visited a church or two built by them; then came the Vikings who left their mark. The Tudors and then the English civil war also has direct impacts - it was just SEETHING with history. We spent nearly 6 hours doing the self-directed 4k walk around the city! We would have loved to stay the night at a little place called the Albion hotel - it boasted it was family hostile and pub crawls and hens nights were not welcome - the decor gave us the feeling we had just walked into 1942 - with the all the WWII posters, photos and memorabilia on the wall, as well as the decor being authentic it was a wonderful piece of history in itself.

Caernafon
We left Chester for Caernarfon about 630pm - and it took about 2.5 hrs through the beautiful Snowdonia to get there. Poor Renoir was driving straight into the sun - and had to deal with the light going from full on to complete shade with no chance to adjust - it was a challenge. We arrived in Caernarfon thinking we'd missed dinner but thankfully the Travelodge was situated at the newly developed docks area, so as well as being treated to a spectacular sunset, we had a wonderful meal and well earned drink (or three)!

We spent the next day (weather started out miserable but became glorious in the evening) exploring the city, starting with the castle, which has been wonderfully restored. It contains a couple of really well-laid out and informative museums, one of the history of the castle and one of the Welsh Fusiliers - and of course we had some photos taken of, and with, the Tardis which has been positioned beautifully in the castle's Queen's Gate!

Dinner was good, old fashioned home made food at the Anglesy pub right on the water - me: lamb shanks with mashed spuds and minted peas, Renoir had a beef ad ale suet pudding - it looked and smelt fabulous. Then we were treated to a performance of Morris Dancing - it really is a slightly bizarre ritual, the dancers were good and clearly having a lot of fun, which is kinda catchy. And then a reasonably early night so we could do the trip to Shrewsbury.

Shrewsbury
The weather was cool and lovely with the drive to Shrewsbury. We stopped just twice - the first stop was in a place called "The Ugly House" - and it was! The guide gave us the wonderful story of two brothers who had built the house in accordance with the rules wicked overlord had instigated - a house could only be built if it could be erected in one night. So, the legend goes, the lads built their house in one night - choosing the shortest day in the year! Of course it's a myth, but beautifully delivered and we really enjoyed the story telling. Then a short stop in a holiday town which was ridiculously crowded with all those out adventuring in Snowdonia - hiking, camping, cycling, holiday motoring with their caravans or mobile homes; simply crawling with folks. Unfortunately we had passed a nasty car accident and clearly the car was a write-off, but fortunately everyone seemed to be walking and, although upset, safe and uninjured.

We got stuck behind a truck along a one lane road for about an hour - there's not much you can do in those cases but put on the radio and sit back and enjoy the scenery! Then, as soon as we crossed the border into Shropshire, the heavens opened. By the time we drove into Shrewsbury, about 430pm on a Friday afternoon, it was almost too thick to see through the rain - and then we saw it; a pub with a sign - Vacancies, free wifi, parking - three of our boxes ticked! In we drove and grabbed the last room and settled in for the evening. Good food, comfy bed, a drink or three and we took the night off - and just as well, it bucketed down for hours!
We were there, unplanned, for the 400th anniversary of the battle between Henry IV and Percy Hotspur - so moseyed up to the medieval re-enactment. The first thing we did was assist a man who managed to break his arm while jousting - not through the activity itself, but falling badly. He looked so pale, grey and sweaty poor chap, he was in a lot of pain. His chain mail alone, which Renoir had carried to the car, weighed about 30 kilos, and left some interesting indentations on Renoir's arm on the way! The re-enactment was not the battle itself, more a demonstration of how people lived at the time - from wood working, to jousting, to cooking. There was also a wonderful falconry centre - just starting out so they had only about 30 birds - but they were beautiful - and funnily enough, small world hits again - the daughter of the couple who owned the falconry centre have a daughter living in Caloundra with her vet husband!
A delicous lunch and a wander through the history of the battle and then back into Shrewsbury to do a bit of Cadfael history at the Shrewsbury abbey until we hit the road to Cheltenham.

Cheltenham
The Travelodge is usually really easy to find - it's always next to some major infrastructure, it might be a services with petrol station and roadside diners, or a major supermarket chain. Cheltenham was a little different, and not on the road on which we came into the city - but find it we did, and it was next to a Harvester restaurant - kind of like a Sizzler.
Before leaving Shrewsbury we had picked up a bit of cheese and cold meat, and a bottle or two and stayed in that night - we were exhausted, so watched a bit of TV and had an early night - but not before enjoying a Columbo episode starring Billy Connelly as the bad guy!
The next day we drove out to the International Centre for Birds of Prey at Newent. This centre was very different to the one at Shrewsbury - they have been in business for many decades, and have about 100 birds including a Secretary bird from Africa, buzzards, vultures, eagles, owls, falcons, kestrels and others. We were lucky enough to be there for two flight demonstrations - the end of one and a full one about an hour later. It is so wonderful to see these magnificent birds behave as they would in the wild - the falcons flying high, high, high, almost invisible against the clouds, the swooping for the lure. My favourite is the Eurasian Eagle Owl - they stand up to about my knee, have brilliant orange eyes and fabulous feathered coats.
The next day we explored a lovely little town called Winchcombe not far from Cheltenham. Another dripping with history (well I guess I shouldn't be surprised, the UK is one huge historical theme park!) with Katherine Parr, HenryVIII last - and surviving wife - lived in the nearby castle, and Elizabeth I went to live with her after Henry's death. We visitetd the local church and were treated to a tour with a couple of wardens. Unlike many churches that feel all style and little substance, like the cathedral in Chester (which was exceedingly beautiful but didn't have much of a feeling of community) - it had a wonderful feeling of being very much at the centre of religious life in the current community. It also had, under wraps, an original tapestry worked on by Catherine of Aragon. How it still survives after 500 years is a true miracle!
That night we had a lovely catch up with Renoir's cousin Christine and her husband Jim at a gorgeous little local pub (they live in Gloucester, the next town along from Cheltenham). Gotta love those lamb shanks ! And Renoir licked his lips when he found there was calves liver and bacon on the menu! We felt very selfish, but it was lovely to have the time with them on our own - Christine and Renoir had a grand time sharing family stories - some they were reliving and some they were sharing for the very first time.

High Wycombe
Next on the itinerary was High Wycombe - well a little town close by. Sandra and Neale, friends of Renoir's for many years, had invited us to stay a couple of nights and we were looking forward to catching up with them and staying in a home! Unfortunately, Neale's presence was required in Italy, and we missed seeing him, but Sandra (and Tuj, their highly enthusiastically friendly Rhodesian Ridgeback) were very welcoming. Sandra had plans for the day, and asked us to arrive after 6pm (Sandra and Neale live on the military base, so we can't just lob in, but need to be escorted).  So on the way, we stopped at a pretty little pub about lunch time called the Inn for All Seasons. Have I mentioned how FABULOUS the pubs are across this land? This equalled the Shoulder of Mutton in Middleton Tyas. The food was spectacular - it's a 2-generation owned pub and their chef is truly a maestro. Just telling you what we had won't do it justice - but imagine a smooth duck liver pate, with a sauterne jelly crushed across the top of the plate with home made brioche to accompany it. Imagine scallops and bacon, with rocket and halved quail eggs, smooth and smoky, topped with a sprinkle of virgin olive oil! mmmmmmmm! And joining us for lunch at this little road side treasure was none other than Sir Anthony Hopkins. True! Well not at our table, but at the next one. No-one could miss that marvellous voice. He was with a small group of five - apparently they had filmed nearby at some stage and had wanted to try the pub. There were only a few people in the pub, and only one person asked for his autograph - we chose to let the man have his lunch in peace - but it was a lovely little brush with fame!

Sandra guessed quite rightly that we were a bit shattered from travelling, so we had a lovely cruisey evening, with a late dinner  in their enormous garden. A good sleep in a wonderfully soft bed, with hand made quilts made us feel very spoilt. and a cruisy day the next day, it was overcast and cool, so it wasn't hard to take time out to update administrivia! Sandra, Tuj and Renoir went for a walk, and Renoir turned his ankle again, it looked pretty painful, but he insisted he could walk on it. That night we took Sandra to the local pub as a thank you for her hospitality (we even got to do a bit of washing for which we were awfully grateful - only so much can be done in the shower!). The weather had turned into a lovely gentle evening, warm but not hot, and with a soft breeze, the English twilight and a good pub meal made for a delightful evening.
Next day we took off about 930am, intending to drive straight to Stratford Upon Avon. But we got waylaid by a little tourist attraction in West Wycombe called 'Hellfire Cave" and yes, this was the location of the original Hellfire Club!
More later....!

Scotland - Mull, Islay, Glasgow

Tuesday 12 to Thursday 14 July - Oban and Mull

The drive to Oban was delightful – the weather fine and the roads clear. We stopped off at a wee gift shop (they were the only place that offered a WC in 15 miles) and enjoyed chatting to the owners – patting their cats, and picking up a couple of things to remind us of our lovely time there.

We were caught in a traffic jam coming into Oban as Princess Anne had arrived and was officiating at the Oban’s 150^th birthday celebrations – complete of course with bag pipe bands, and school kids parading, and the most incongruous of all was a bunch of school kids playing ukeleles to celebrate!

We parked the car in the queue for the ferry, got the tickets and had about 40 mins to wander around Oban before needing to be back at the car. Oban is a very pretty seaside town – with lovely architecture, and a number of lovely shops, many local businesses rather than chain stores.

The ferry to Mull takes a brisks 40 minutes, and it seemed no sooner had we ordered a drink than we were about to dock!

The ferry arrives at Craignure – and we got to know it well as Renoir’s favourite pub on Mull is the Craignure Inn, and for good reason, but more of that later.  Accommodation was the Crera Hotel literally a five minute drive from the wharf – a chain, but with the feeling of something a little more homely. The buildings are low rise so as not to interfere with the landscape, and built so all the rooms look out onto XXX Bay, separated by a number of low growing coastal plants which gave some privacy in the gardens from the coastal walk.

Our room wasn’t ready when we arrived about 3pm, so we wandered into town for a bevy at said Inn before returning, where I had a nap and Renoir went off to visit the memorial  plaque to Gill and her grandmother.

In the evening, back to the ‘village’ where we were disappointed to find that McGregor’s pub only opens for lunch (business must be good!) so continued on to the Craignure Inn for a dinner, which was delicious.

As the sun was just setting (it was about 930pm) we decided to return to the hotel via the coastal road to enjoy the gloaming (as the Scots call it – beautiful soft light than just sort of fades away gently), when Renoir twisted and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. The path had an edge that had been covered by grass and given the softness of the light, and the fact that he was concentrating on taking photos, he didn’t see it. His ankle was twisted, but being the old footballer he is, walked on it to determine the damage. Back at the hotel the bar staff kindly gave him a serviette full of ice, and I got some anti-inflammatory cream from the room, as well as the pressure bandage I was carrying just in case my own ankle went (still recovering from the fall I had at the end of March in the Hunter Valley!) 

A wee dram of single malt, ice, anti-inflammatories meant he passed on ok night and his ankle, although swollen, was ok to walk on the next day.

Wednesday 13 July – Mull

We decided to keep Renoir still for a while, so did some photo downloading and diary catch up in the morning, and I went off to book myself in for a massage. We had a light lunch of pate and then I drove us up to Duart Castle –the clan seat of the McLeans (or MacLean or however you want to spell it!)

The castle has been wonderfully restored by the grandfather of the current clan head, and it has laid out what life would have been like in the 17^th century – quite uncomfortable, breezy and dark in my view. The dungeons have mannequins dressed like Spanish prisoners, there are more mannequins in the kitchen, and the bedroom and banquet halls are filled with costumes, furniture, object d’art and weaponry from that time, accompanied by explanations about how they lived, and the clan history. It was brilliantly done – and we were also fortunate enough to be treated to a choral performance in the courtyard of the castle by the Mull Gaelic Choir. Their 12 voices soared up the four stone walls and they sounded truly beautiful – perhaps not as polished as the smaller group we had seen in St Petersburg, but certainly they were passionate.

We finished off our Duart Castle experience with taking photographs from the battlements at the top, which, given the weather was so beautiful, afforded us spectacular 360 degree views, then a cup of tea and a cake and a slow drive back into town – slow because it’s a very windy one-lane road (at least I didn’t have the cyclists with me on the way back the way I did on the way up!)

Back at the hotel by 5pm and off I went to have my massage, while Renoir did some more diary writing and checking of emails etc.. The massage was not the most relaxing I’ve ever had, but my neck felt wonderfully released after she had finished.

Dinner was, again, at the Craignure Inn, and this time they exceeded my expectations. Renoir had salmon, with brie and herbed breadcrumbs, I had the local mussels – and by local I mean from the mussel farm in the next bay. They were plump and creamy, debearded, steamed and served in a thin white wine, cream, garlic and parsley sauce – on my – they were exquisite and certainly the very best mussels I have ever enjoyed! We stayed until closing, drinking whiskey (I had a Clayva – like a Drambouie but not as sweet) watching the crowd and chatting – Craignure was full of tourists, there were two bus loads staying in our hotel alone, as well as a number of independent travelers, so the conversation was lively and the staff friendly.

Thursday 14 July Islay

Well, an early start  to be in queue for the ferry by 815am, and onto Islay.

The port for the ferry to Mull is Oban and, as I mentioned, is a lively little town. Well the port for the ferry to Islay is Kennacraig, and couldn’t be more different – two demountable offices and that’s it. It was a 2 hour drive from Oban to Kennacraig, so we could take it slowly, and stopped off in a little fishing village called Tarbut – which I’d love to go back to. Really just one main street running around the bay, it had a very friendly feel and a great history, being home to one of the castles of Robert the Bruce, and having a Viking history as well.

But the ferry waits for no-one so a 30 mins break and we were off down the road for the ferry.

This trip was much longer, nearly two hours, and the ferry reminded us more of the P&O we took around New Zealand than an island hopping ferry. Strobe lights, sculptures, lots of chrome – it was very fancy – but with a terrible reputation we were to discover. Made in Poland, it keeps needing to be repaired, and indeed we had the old ferry on the way back a couple of days later!

It was a misty trip out, not much good for photos, so we settled in to watch the golf, and read. The ferry docks at Port Askaig (pron Askay) and then it’s about a 40 mins drives to Port Ellen (pron P’tellen – the emphases on words tends to be on the 2^nd syllable). 

Hamish and Rhona run a guest house at which Renoir has stayed before, and were incredibly welcoming – to the point of having us join them upstairs for a drink after we had settled in!  P’tellen is a tiny little fishing village, with 2 pubs, 1 food co-op, 1 convenience store, two taxis (big improvement apparently because for years it has just been Carol’s Cabs – with 1 cab for the whole island out of P’tellen!) We shot the breeze with Hamish and Rhona for a while and then wandered up to the White Hart for dinner – the only pub that does food. (Across the road from Hamish & Rhona’s is the Islay Hotel which has been undergoing renovations and restoration for a couple of years – we heard they should be open when next we visit as they are just doing the final touches on the courtyard which will serve as the beer garden.)

The White Hart was very welcoming, with good if slightly plain food. Renoir said his dinner of breaded pork (basically pork schnitzel) would have not been unwelcome on his parents dinner table, while my roasted root veggie and nut load with goats cheese was quite tasty, if a little stodgy. Still it showed imagination and an understanding that vegetarian doesn’t just mean meat-free!

An early night because there much exploring to do the next day!

Friday 15 July – Islay

We arose and breakfasted about 815am – Rhona’s breaksfasts are served between 800am and 845am – if you’re not there you miss out! And Renoir had been looking forward to his porridge and kippers for months – and they didn’t disappoint!

Our first visit was to the beach that will be Flora’s final resting place – but the weather was a bit blustery and we figured another time would be better, so headed onto Bowmore (pron B’more) – which is more or less the capital of Islay, and certainly the biggest town. With the blustering wind and rain we decided to take refuge in their gift shops for a while – and amazingly enough – bought nothing!  We cruised down to the Harbour View Hotel to book dinner for the next night before the local caleidh (pron caley - literally meaning ‘the visit’ but always including music, singing and dancing).

We stopped for a light lunch in the Loch View hotel (venue of said caleidh) and then moved on to Bruichladdich (pron Brucladdy) distillery – hoping to catch up with Renoir’s mate Mary, and to taste a whiskey or two – and on the way we stopped to take photos of seals on the rocks – not exactly sunning themselves as there was no sun! but relaxing, flipping their tales and doing things that seals do – such as nothing.

It was such a shame that this was the one day of the year that Mary had off to attend a wedding – so Renoir left her a note, and we tasted their latest brew called the Botanist (locals of course calling it the BotANist!) It is a gin, with ingredients such as apple mint, hawthorn, elder, meadowsweet, wormwood, sweet cicely, tansy, wild thyme and other local wildflowers – and it is FABULOUS! Sorry, don’t think there’ll be any of our bottle left when we get home, but I look forward to finding it somewhere in Brissy and sharing it!

After a bit of a wander and a bit of a tasting we drove to Portnahaven – where the weather really closed in, it was about 14 degrees  – so it was Renoir who bravely got out of the car and took photos of the half a dozen seals frolicking in the bay, then a cruisey, roundabout drive back to P’tellen.

The island of Islay is very interesting from a geographical point of view – it has its green  bit, it’s sandy bit which reminds me a lot of places like Tuncurry and Forster on the NSW mid north coast; it has peaty bits (which of course is why it is whiskey heaven) and rolling green hills with sheep.  It has seals, and lots of fabulous birds and in fact has been recognised as a place of scientific interest for its multitude of bird life.

Back to the White Hart for dinner – where Renoir went vegetarian – and apparently the mushroom stroganoff was just delicious. My Cajun chicken was also yummy, and we chatted to a Portuguese couple who were over as Joachim is a keen whiskey drinker. His English wasn’t very good – but hey, better than my Portuguese! And her’s was good, but they had real trouble understanding the waitress who spoke in a heavy Islay accent at 19 to the dozen! He ended up with scallops and black pudding – and it was the scallops he wasn’t so keen on as he doesn’t eat fish – but he manfully tried it and decided it was quite nice.

It was about this time I discovered that it’s quite acceptable on Islay for a lady to have water in her whiskey – so Renoir chose a nice single malt for me – and I think I have developed quite a taste for it!

Saturday 15 Juy - Islay

Ah, apparently Rhona also makes a mean potato cake and cooks delicious bacon – so Renoir had a good start to the day.

First we drove to Kildalton, to see a very early Christian Circle cross (about 600AD) in an old chapel thought to be 14^th century. It was fabulous, although the chapel no longer had a roof, the walls were still in good repair, and there were a number of really interesting grave stones around, including a few slabs with knights  carved into them – very King Arthur!  There is also the curious thing – a cross just outside the churchyard called the ‘Thieves Cross’. It’s a wonderful mystery, with some telling the story that it is the grave of the priest who was murdered by Vikings because he wouldn’t tell them where the whiskey was hidden – but surely he would earn being buried in consecrated ground for that!

About this time the rain abated, and we even had patches of blue in the sky! So off to Ardbeg, the old Renoir family distillery. Although they are no longer there, you can see the place where the homes for the maltmen and their families and other workers used to be. We looked around, but the weather was clearing so beautifully we didn’t want to miss the chance to go back to Kilnaughton Bay and have our ceremony for Flora.

The trip itself was glorious, with sun shining through the woods and onto mossy stone fences; and we saw more seals on the way too – almost giving us their blessing with a flick of their tails.

The sun was peeking through the clouds as Renoir scattered her ashes into the bay she loved so much, and we had a wee dram of Ardbeg single malt in the Viking style leather goblets we had bought in York. The sun came out then, and bathed the island in its glow, so we knew she was happy to be home.

I was really pleased to see the sun too, as it changes the whole island completely – and what had been slightly desolate the day before turned simply glorious.

We explored the cemetery where it is thought many of the family are buried, and Renoir found some more gravestones that seem to fit his family tree. And although I have always found cemetaries nice, peaceful places to be (and mostly not menacing) I have to say it is slightly disconcerting to suddenly disturb a rabbit who comes bounding out from behind a gravestones, or under a slab to run away!

We then drove off to Bridge End and had a wonderful light lunch at the Bridge End hotel. The service was wonderful, and Renoir’s terrine of woodcock, partridge and venison was particularly fine; my cesaer salad of radicchio as the lettuce base change the whole look and taste of what is a standard favourite and it was delicious, topped off as it was by a guinea fowl egg! I just love the pubs in the UK – there’s always a surprise awaiting, and it’s usually a good one!

Then off to ‘The Centre’ at Bridge End, where there is a tiny brewery (the brewery itself is about the size of our loungeroom); a chocolate shop, art gallery, quilting centre and batik shop. It is also the site for Islay House for the gentry, and the Islay House garden – a community garden which is massive and full of wonderfully fresh fruit and veg – definitely somewhere to go for produce if you are doing a self-catering holiday on the island.

All this took us ages to explore – the weather was glorious, the people friendly, the batik – something that at first seemed so incongruous on Islay, is done by Liz Sykes by hand by on silk – scarves, art work for the walls, kimonos, ties – truly exquisite work.

We both had a siesta back at the B&B before chuffing off to B’more for dinner – we had booked about 7pm. It was most grand – first we were ushered into the conservatory to have a pre dinner drink and look a the menu. After ordering, you finish your drink then taken to your table where your entrée is brought out almost immediately. Renoir totally scored with black risotto & scallops, while my hot smoked trout was tasty, but not as good as the scallops. Then we both had lobster tail with whiskey butter – ooooh yum – I haven’t had lobster in years! This was accompanied by a very nice South African chardonnay called Tokana, a nice crisp fruity wine to balance the richness of the seafood.

Then I tried cranachen (pron cranak) for desert which is oats, mixed with whiskey and cream and raspberries, accompanied by a piece or two of shortbread – it was delicious but surely better for breakfast!

We then headed to the caleidh – which was fun – a band with key board, accordion, guitar and drums and singer all seemingly local had a very boisterous and supportive crowd dancing and singing along. And who should we run into but the barmaid who had served us that day in Bridge End – well it’s not a big island so I guess we shouldn’t be surprised – she remembered us and we chatted before leaving for home, readying ourselves for the trip to Glasgow the next day and falling into bed about 1230am.

Sunday 17 July – Islay to Glasgow

The day was wet, cold and windy – almost as is the sun had shone once and that was it, it had forgotten us again!

We breakfasted and hoped to visit the woolen mill, but Islay closes down on Sunday mornings for church, so off to Bunnahabhain (pron Bannaheaven) distillery – which was along a very winding, one lane road with a steep cliff off one side and a spectacular view. Well it would have been more spectacular if it hadn’t been raining so much!  But hell, as they say, there’s no bad weather, just badly chosen clothes, so off we went. It really was pretty, but the wind was so strong it nearly blew Renoir off his feet, so back into the car and back along the one lane, winding road to the main road to take us to the ferry back at Port Askaig.

We were a bit early, and there is nothing at Port Askaig except a corner store (closed until about 1230pm – which was when we were due on our ferry) and a pub. So what else was there to do but have a wee dram and wait for the ferry? Nothing, so that’s what we did!

The ferry back, as I mentioned, was not the shining example of Polish craftsmanship, but the old ferry, and somehow more comfy. We settled ourselves in for a couple of hours without much to see because of the weather, and alighted back at Kennacraig to drive to Glasgow.

I love the country roads in the UK, and always feel a bit of sadness when coming back into a city – I think it’s too much like back to real life! But Glasgow surprised me – it has wonderful architecture, wide open streets – and it rained like no-one’s business when we arrived! Added to that was the street map I was using to navigate – you’d think you’d be pretty safe with a 2010 directory – well we were for the streets, except that Glasgow is a multitude of one way streets (not unlike Brisbane) and we discovered that many of these streets had changed their one way to the other way! Lots of fun.

The first evening was just a wander around the city – with a pub meal at The Goose – Renoir discovered a new cider (okay, I’ll take credit for it as I bought the drinks and it was one I didn’t think he’d had before – Gamley’s), and we had a bite to eat. The ‘gloaming’ lasts for ages, so it’s easy to gete waylaid by time if you’re not concentrating.

Next morning we had domestic duties to do, Laundromat, posting stuff home, buying a new phone etc.. all that takes time.

That evening, we were collected by Renoir’s cousin Willie who took us back to his place and he and his wife Rita gave us supper and Renoir and Willie talked family history until the cows came home. I was starting to worry that we were keeping them up late – and stated making “Well it’s time we were off” noises about 1015pm, but they would have none of it and poured another whiskey and chatted a while more  and eventually Willie took us home just after 11pm – not bad for a couple who are nearly 80! A big thank you to Willie and Rita for such a lovely family filled evening!

As we were only there for a brief stint we didn’t explore that much of Glasgow except for the city, did a bit of shopping and basically explored – but it’s definitely one f those “gotta get back here” cities.

Leaving Glasgow we had set our sites on Chester, on Willie’s advice,  as an overnight stop before Caenarfon, but our last stop in Scotland was Gretna Green - the place where the English used go for quickie marriages, and sometimes quickie divorces. It was our last gasp of Scotland and I have to say I can't wait until we return - I'm so looking forward to spending more time in this fabulously welcome and extremely beautiful; country.