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TUESDAY, NOV. 19: I’m worried about Tara. She asks someone in the coffee shop, “Where might the post office be?” Sounds to me like she’s experiencing an entity attachment -- a deceased, but proper little tea-drinking, hair-in-a-bun, bonnet wearing, Scottish lady who says things like, “Where might the post office be?” Cheyenne and I will watch her closely. We secure a hotel near London Heathrow for tomorrow night and make ScotRail reservations for seats at a table on the noon train to London. Next on our agenda, is a cab to the Pilrig Park apartment where we stayed three years ago. Cheyenne and Hunter made many friends in the area, and Tara is determined to help Chey connect with them again. We walk the housing complexes. Our daughter remembers one of the houses. The mother remembers Cheyenne. The kids are still in school, so we leave Chey to wait with the mother, while we walk to the harbor community of Leith. I’ve written in the past about Tara’s encounters with South Leith Parish Church, which was founded in 1483. Today is no different. Although there is a new high wall surrounding the structure, as soon as we get close, Tara’s throat tightens up. To read more about this, go to the “1999 Road Diary” I’ve already mentioned. “The dead folks have been waiting for you to return to Scotland,” I say. “Great,” she says. We pass a bar with a sign in the window that says, “Whiskey Special: Only 50 P Per Nip” I don’t know why that amuses me, but it does. Nip? Our destination is Bar Java, a funky bar, coffee, tea-house, restaurant. As we step in the door, Tara says, “Do you still offer your big plate of nachos?” They do. She orders vegetarian and I order chicken. It’s the same meal we have enjoyed so often in the past, but for some reason half way through the stack, I find layers of baked beans. This is not right. But when it comes to “proper” food preparation and etiquette, who drinks Brit tea with their nachos? We read the paper, relax. Our waitress is from New Zealand. Her boyfriend from South Africa also works here. We enjoy conversing with them. The big story in the paper today tells of closing the vital cod and haddock fishing areas off the coast of Scotland “to protect fragile stocks from collapse.” This may have more to do with European Union politics than fish stocks. The Scottish Parliament’s spokesman on fisheries says, “Given that the fishing industry cannot survive an 80 percent cut in white fish quota, Europe has clearly not budged an inch and appears determined to destroy our fishing communities and tens of thousands of jobs. It is now time for the nation to unite behind as the fishing industry battles for its life.” I have always questioned the workability of British membership in the EU. We pick up Cheyenne, take pictures with her five friends, then cab back to the apartment. I’m not willing to spend our last night in Scotland watching the telly. Tara agrees. We walk to a book store and find two more books relating to Rossyln Chapel. When the book store closes, we go to The Filmhouse, which offers three cinemas, plus a tea shop and veggy restaurant, which is so crowded we have to elbow our way in. This is the first week of a French film festival. We see “Rue des Plaisirs,” which translates to “Love Street” -- I think. English subtitles. It’s about a “stubby fellow raised in a brothel, who will stop at nothing to ensure the happiness of a prostitute he loves to the limits of platonic fervour.” We both enjoy the film. This is the only showing in Edinburgh, and I doubt there will be an American release. |
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Cheyenne and her Scottish friends. |
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WEDNESDAY, NOV. 20: Rain sheets the windows as we pull out of Edinburgh on the London bound train. Tara starts to cry. “We’ll come back soon,” I say. “Next week?” she says.
THURSDAY, NOV. 21: Virgin Atlantic isn’t interested in the weight of my carry-on bag traveling from London to Los Angeles. We land in LA three hours after taking off according to the clock. Home in Malibu, the jet-lag adjustment period will probably take a week. I don’t know why this is, it just always is. The trip was successful, safe, fun. After 10 weeks on the road, I’m more appreciative than ever of my home, my community and even my computer. In addition to writing new columns and working on a project proposed by a New York agent, I’m anxious to get back to writing a book on predestination that I began many months ago. There are some CDs I want to write and produce, and new seminars to create. I’m considering a 2003 tour. At the same time, Tara is wanting to take a break from seminars to work on her projects, so this will create some new challenges. Life is going to be busy. Parting words: If you ever get an opportunity to take a vacation to Mother Scotland, just do it! |