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THURSDAY, NOV. 14: It is cold, raining and the wind is blowing so hard I fear it will turn our umbrellas inside out. We take refuge in the Scottish Whiskey Center. Across the street is a mill that weaves tartan wool, has two restaurants and retail stores. Tara wants our pictures taken in Scottish attire. This turns into quite a project. Chey doesn’t want to pose. We blatantly inflict guilt. “Last night we let you get your belly button pierced and today you won’t even pose in a photo with us?” She agrees to pose. Our photographer is a young woman for Latvia who tells me, “Women are easy to dress, but men take forever.” She proceeds to help me through the ordeal. I’m offered the choice of several Scottish outfits and choose “Old Bruce” (Robert the Bruce). I don’t want to make more out of the experience than is warranted, but this feels NATURAL ... and I’ve never been enamored with costumes. When Tara sees me she says, “Oh-h-h-h-h, does that look natural on you.” Cheyenne says, “Dad, you should wear that to Jessi’s wedding.” That might be a matter of outdressing the bride,” Tara says. And I notice that my wife keeps looking at me strangely out of the corner of her eye. “What?” “Nothing. I just can’t get over how natural you look.” Tara and Cheyenne both look beautiful in period tartan dresses. The attire is hardly authentic to the 1300s, but I pose in my kilt with my foot on a rock, holding a Scottish claymore. Tara stands, then sits. Sixteen photos are taken. We choose two for prints and two to go on a disc. But the computer won’t print so we have lunch in the Weaver’s Coffee Shop -- quiche and tea. (NOTE: Genealogists say virtually all Grahams, a branch of my mother’s family, are descendants of Sir John de Graham, who was second in command to William Wallace (“Braveheart”). This also makes Robert the Bruce, “King of Scots,” an ancestor through descendant’s marriages to both Grahams and Campbells -- another family branch. I tell Cheyenne that she has the blood of nine Scottish kings running though her veins. She says, “So?”) In the coffee shop, I talk to a man from South Africa. “It’s warmer where you’re from,” I say. “This weather is killing us,” he says. His wife nods in agreement. He explains that they’re here for a soccer match between South Africa and Scotland. Tara decides to pierce her belly button. The piercing guys laugh when she appears in their basement lair. “We should have bet on your return,” one says. Twenty minutes later, my wife has a big jewel in her navel and a smaller jewel protruding out of her stomach an inch above. I wish I could be enthusiastic, but I liked her belly button just fine the way it was. Dinner is smoked mackerel, cheese and crackers in the apartment. About 10:30 PM we turn on the telly. Now I’m not making this up when I tell you we’re soon watching an in-depth report on Mr. Dick and Ms. Pussy’s wild carrying on in Venice, Italy. It seems a two guys dress up and go out in public and get arrested for appearing as an erection and clitoris. They’ve been banned for life from the local art festivals. We get to watch Dick and Pussy riding in gondolas and trying to avoid the police. Okay. |
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Richard in the Museum of Scotland beneath words from the “Treat of Arbroth.” |
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FRIDAY, NOV. 15: LOST PENNY Today, in the Museum of Scotland, I learn that the penny the young man gave me the last night of the festival in London, was issued in Scotland at the time of Robert the Bruce. This makes the lost penny especially important. I wonder about the meaning of the experience. Tara says, “I’d ask the Universe to give it back.” We spend the afternoon in the museum. Tara can read some Latin, so she interprets a few pieces in the more interesting exhibits. She takes my picture beneath lines from Robert the Bruce’s 1320 Declaration of Arbroth to the Pope: “As long as a hundred of us remain alive we will never be subject to English domination, because it is not for glory or riches or honours that we fight, but for freedom alone, which no worthy man loses except with his life.” The Bruce was excommunicated by the Pope for killing an adversary on sacred ground and for refusing to pledge allegiance to the English king. Bruce envisioned Scotland as a Celtic kingdom, once again. In the long run, the excommunication resulted in the outlawed Knights Templar seeking refuge in Scotland. Their military support helped to secure Scotland’s freedom, and Robert the Bruce became the true “King of Scots.” |
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So we go to Starbucks, sip tea and talk for 90 minutes before returning to the apartment to watch “The Osbornes.” Tara’s close friend Katherine Brooks is now the director of the show. The “MTV European Music Awards” follow. Between the rap, techno and demented rock, I realize I’m sooooo out of it. I return to reading. |
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Click HERE for the continuation |