Last weekend was 'Open Doors Day' for most Castles and Abbeys in Scotland. I used that as an excuse to do some long overdue, though hectic, sightseeing. On saturday morning, as I stood at the bus station and looked at the departures board, my choice lay between Jedburgh and Melrose - both with medieval (unused now) abbeys that I wanted to point my camera towards. The Bus for Jedburgh was 15 minutes before the bus to Melrose - so it was a pretty easy decision to make. 15 minutes saved is a quarter of an hour earned!
As the bus sauntered towards Jedburgh, I admired the...
Last weekend was 'Open Doors Day' for most Castles and Abbeys in Scotland. I used that as an excuse to do some long overdue, though hectic, sightseeing. On saturday morning, as I stood at the bus station and looked at the departures board, my choice lay between Jedburgh and Melrose - both with medieval (unused now) abbeys that I wanted to point my camera towards. The Bus for Jedburgh was 15 minutes before the bus to Melrose - so it was a pretty easy decision to make. 15 minutes saved is a quarter of an hour earned!
As the bus sauntered towards Jedburgh, I admired the capacity of the Scottish countryside to impress despite having seen an awful lot of it over the past year and a half. Jedburgh is a town in the borders area (between Scotland and England) and because of the animosity between the Scots and their English neighbours, the area has a preponderance of walls, castles, and churches (where you prayed in case your castle was in danger of falling to the approaching armies). I was looking forward to immersing myself in a bit of medival abbey-spotting. But about 15 minutes from Jedburgh, our bus came to a halt behind a long row of stationary cars (usually roads in Scotland are empty, considering that the entire population of this 'country' is only one-third of Delhi).
On craning our necks and squinting our eyes we realised that an accident had taken place just a few seconds before we got there. The driver immediately radioed his office, or wherever it is that he is supposed to call when he finds himself behind an accident, and grumblingly infomed his interlocutor that 'it might take a couple of hours'. That put into perspective my decision not to use the loo just before boarding the bus for this 2 hour (now perhaps double of that) journey. I tried to take my mind off of all things aquine and found myself looking at the cars in front of us turning around and going back. The road was narrow so our bus driver decided against trying such a maneouver for the bus he was commanding. So now we were the first vehicle from the accident site and had to unfortunately witness all that was happening in front of our eyes. There were a couple of cars that had crashed into each other (at highspeed, naturally). All the occupants seem to be unhurt, though dazed. One of the cars had a family - the father and young daughter kept on going round and round their car when we realised that there was someone still trapped in their car. The ambulances came, as did a fire brigade, and it took them the better part of an hour to free the woman from the car. There was pin drop silence in the bus as we saw the firemen slowly saw away the car. We were not close enough to see how badly the woman was hurt but it was not difficult to imagine her agony. The doctors tried to get her husband to go into the ambulance but he refused to move from there.
It certainly put a lot of things in perspective as one is reminded that life can take a sudden (and ghastly) turn any moment. After an hour, they finally prised the woman and took her into the ambulance. Hopefully, she is all right now. A policeman then came and chatted with our bus driver and said that the road would still take a few hours to clear. He over-rode the protests of the bus driver and ordered him to make a U-turn. With a lot of difficulty, and some dexterous maneouvring, he did manage to do the seemingly impossible and we took a detour through a small dirt road which turned out to be a blessing in disguise at it was an extremely pretty journey with small streams, bridges, and cherry Blossom trees and rows and rows of Wordsworthian daffodils which were straight out of a Turner or Constable masterpiece. To remind us of the variety that mother nature has to offer, we also passed a Donkey Sanctuary whose occupants also seemed to be serenely enjoying the lush green countryside. They probably thought of us what we thought of them! A bunch of asses!
Finally, we reached Jedburgh, two hours later than scheduled. Jedburgh is like any other Scottish town (I struggle not to call it a village). It has a well-known 12th century Abbey and a house that is marketed as 'Mary Queen of Scots House' even though she never stayed there but only visited it on a couple of ocassions. I spent a leisurely few hours admiring the Abbey and the serenity that seemed to be all around because I was the only tourist who was brave enough to visit it that day. As I waited at the Bus station to catch the bus back to Edinburgh, a woman with an equally dour-looking dog decided to start a conversation with me. I couldn't make out who was more terror-inspiring, the woman or her bitch. Not being accustomed to seeing someone of my colour (or lack of it), she enquired as to what I was doing there. On being told that I had come to visit the Abbey, she opened her eyes wide and said, "But why? Its Crap!". That made me feel like my friends at the Donkey Sanctuary and I sulked during the journey back.
Optimism surfaced the next day (sunday) as I decided to do some more (crap?) sightseeing again. I decided to visit Doune and Stirling Castles (Stirling is where I work and commute from Edinburgh everyday). Taking a train for Stirling on Sunday morning didn't seem too inviting a prospect but I braved it anyways. From there, a 30-minute mini-bus ride bought me to the village of Doune whose claim to fame is its eponymous castle. And the castle is known in history not for having being built by the Duke of Albany or because it was a hunting retreat for Mary, Queen of Scots but for the fact that 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' was filmed there. Fortunately, I was not the only visitor that day and I enjoyed exploring the castle right next to which runs a pretty river (stream?). Sadly, my only disappointment was that I did not see John Cleese, Michael Palin et. al running around with banging coconuts. Also missing were the French hurling insults down the wall!!!!
My next stop was Stirling. It is a mini-Edinburgh as those of you who recall one of my previous mails - the same concept as Edinburgh - a high-castle (almost in-the-air) at one end of town that gives it a very fairy-talesque appearance. I ambled around a bit in town before heading for the castle. Called, naturally, Stirling Castle, it has been refurbished over the years - but despite its reasonably re-touched interiors, it has a charming air to it. There is more to explore in this castle (than its E'burgh counterpart) and it affords views of the country-side and mountains.
I also visited Argyll's Lodging (home of the Earl of Stirling, and at one time the most modern house in Scotland (in the 17th century, that is). Amongst its many rooms, there was one which had a very ornamental looking receptacle for...er...early-morning bodily functions. A little girl stared at it for a while, unable to figure out its purpose in the grand scheme of things. She then turned to her mother and demanded an explanation for this strange looking chair. The mother, visibly embarassed, whispered something into the girls ear who then uttered a disguted 'ewwww'. Apart from that, the house didn't have much to write about.
(Apr, 2008)
