Chuck and I have visited the British Isles many times, but this trip is special… Even the sign "You are now crossing the border into the UK" seemed special.  We checked into a hotel close to the Bristol airport and the next morning, bleeding profusely from the wound to our $800 converted into "only" £356.26, driving on the "other" side of the road, and entering round abouts from the left, we headed north towards Scotland. Stopping for lunch we ate great platters of lamb shank with potatoes, peas, and corn in Uttoexeter. I have to ask "How do you pronounce that name?" and then I have to ask, "Please spell that." Either I’m getting deaf or accents are getting thicker. We are two countries separated by a common language. (Say U tox iter). In Kirkby Lonsdale we encountered a biker ralley at Devil’s Bridge. Bikers here in the UK strip off leather clothes to "take the sun" and drink coffee and eat ice cream. The roads and hedgerows along the roads are unforgiving so the bikers stay sober. Continuing north, we stopped at a "boot" sale (people drive into a pasture and sell things out of their car trunks). We bought a big 2008 road atlas and took advice from Steve Heaton from Yorkshire: "Go to Oban and see the best scenery in Scotland." OK! go around the round about a few times and head for Scotland. The sheep along the way behind stone walls are newly shorn and look chilly to me. I interpret their bleats as "baaaaaa, don’t take my wooly coat!" and I playfully reply, "No problem, Susie just wants your lamb shanks!" We visited Lockerbie Scotland where Pan Am flight 103 was felled by a bomb killing everyone on board and 11 on the ground. People from miles around brought in parts of the plane to the reconstruction crew. The memorial, a remembrance garden, is beautiful and very sad. We drove on with heavy hearts. We did not sleep well that night as the sun does not set until midnight and raises at 4am. In Scotland, we started to stay up too late (can’t go to sleep while the sun’s up), eating dinner at 10pm, and then pubbing until "wee" hours. The birds start to sing at 4am. I started swearing at them, which I NEVER do in the morning! In Scotland Chuck started "tasting" Scotches. Every pub you go into has a variety of Scotches and local beers and the publicans are very willing to give a taste. In a wonderful coincidence we found a wonderful B&B called The Old Manse in Oban.  At breakfast in a B&B conversations often break out that keep us at table long after the coffee is cold. Here we met Carlene and Frank. Found out he was a submarine man and he and Chuck stayed up (in the daylight) until way past midnight smoking cigars talking about "the old days." As Carlene and I talked we found more and more in common. Spirituality, labyrinths, caregiving, hospice, and healing. We talked about "the healing of memory" and understanding our spiritual pain so we can be present for others. We talked about "listening for the heartbeat of God." We decided to stay another night in Oban to see more and visit with our new friends and ended up staying three nights visiting Seil island, the tiniest bridge over the Atlantic, the Tigh an Truish pub and the John Taylor Exhibition twice! As we left Oban, I remembered the closed and reused churches I have seen and I wrote in my journal: "I talked of Cathedrals today. My hands tracing lines to the sky. Where the high peaks built by master builders rise to God dedicated to create God’s dwelling place on earth. High parapets symbolize man’s dreams. My voice wistful. I can’t comprehend the reuse of churches for electrical offices and information centers. The sacred sancts now ceilings lowered are commercial buildings. The Spirit shoved into the corners…."Â
In St. Abbs we sat in the sunshine in what had to be 40 degree weather and found some friends among "redundant" fishermen. I wandered in the ruins of a priory and tried to paint the priory church. I said a prayer of thanks to the monks who kept God’s name alive for us when people couldn’t read or write. In the pub, we spent some time talking and drinking (and playing poker) with men who used to own large trawlers and ply the fisherman trade, but a living can’t be made from the sea here anymore. We visited Holy Island attached to land by a causeway that floods twice a day! The flooding time was good quiet time for the Monks. We drove back into England through country side filled with sheep and cows and had some hilarious times watching sheep being dipped and a small calf being herded who did not want to go into the pasture where his mother bawled "come in here you little twit" or something like that! We’ve visited the market at Hexham and purchased lamb, potatoes, swiss chard, cheese, bread, and beer and eaten it all!!!! We’ve visited Hadrian’s wall which is a pretty astounding piece of brickwork stretching over 80 miles of hillside. Those on the north of the wall were outside the Roman Empire (savages)… The wall was over 10 feet thick and 15 feet high! My friend Liz grows Columbine in her beautiful garden (the flower is called here in England Aquilegia or Granny’s Bonnet). Looks like a 5 pointed star with 4 rounded petals and golden stamen. I disturbed a fat bublebee this morning as I picked a dark lavender columbine. Liz’s garden is what I call "northern". Many of the plants won’t grow in our southern clime. Liz and Nick (her very handsome British husband who teaches American politics) built strong defenses around the garden but Liz found a rabbit nibbling on the flowers and sent in the cat called Pinot Noir who scared the rabbit off. Pinot Noir had a mate called Merlot who has gone off to cat heaven. Pinot sleeps on her back with all 4 paws up – she is not a "proper" English cat! Liz paints lovely watercolors putting my "rubbish" to shame, but I shall continue to paint and try. For isn’t trying the best thing to do? Silence and the ticking of a clock and the sound of Pinot’s snoring at my feet cause me to stop now. It’s finally dark outside and it’s time to get some shut eye as the birdies will be at it at 4am! As Christopher Robin would say: Ta ta for now. Love Susie