Friday, 2002-12-27
edinburgh and four pints
Today, the Waterston clan and I ventured to the capital of Scotland: Edinburgh. Once parked, we immediately started a walk up the Royal Mile towards Edinburgh Castle. Gemma wanted me to take pictures on the walk up, but I didn't feel the environmental conditions were right (fog had enveloped the area and we were being pissed on, in such a manner apparently typical of Scotland). Once in the castle's walls, I went somewhat trigger-happy. Quite an amazing site the Edinburgh Castle is. I can't even imagine how many rolls of film I would have burned through had it been a less dreary day. And the "you are here" in Edinburgh map seemed to give the impression that the views from the castle would have been breathtaking. Shame.
Upon leaving the castle, hunger struck. So we headed to the nearest tavern, which happened to be a great choice. I had Guinness and creamy pasta with mussels. Tasty. On the other hand, Gill and David had a traditional Scottish breakfast. Which would be haggis, eggs, black pudding, sausage and a potato scone.
So yeah, black pudding. I should've known something was up when I heard Catherine and Gemma beg to tell me what the "pudding" was made of (that David had so kindly offered a bite of). I asked them to hold off a second while I finished chewing. I happened to like the stuff. But then I was told something I could have easily gone without hearing. Fried pig's blood. That's what it was. I shit you not.
Next in line was an underground tour of one small part of 1700's Edinburgh. Turns out, Scotland was hit by the black plague. And various parts of the city remain intact, underground, and can be entered. Our tour guide told us stories of the living conditions during the time and of various supernatural occurrences. In one particular room (a pagan temple) I volunteered myself as the brave soul that would hop inside a circle of rocks. Which happened to be trapping evil spirits from escape.
Then I stepped into an area of a vault haunted by poltergeists. Boo! And took a picture in this same room of a frightened Gemma and Catherine. Only thing is, my flash wasn't supposed to work. Evil spirits apparently didn't wish to hold my creative inspiration back, I guess.
At this point, we were tired; so we headed to the car and drove home. Then David and I went to a pub with some of his old buddies at around nine. I had four pints of Carlsberg and managed to maintain some sense of composure. I did my best to try to comprehend what was being said, but managed to fall short mostly. So I tuned out a bit. Then somehow the issue of gun control came up. I think I managed to hold a decent conversation at this point. And then we were off our separate ways.
David and I headed home. On the way, we were flashed twice by an automated camera. We reckon David was going 45 in a 30. Problem is, we both thought the speed limit was 40. A ticket should arrive in the mail in about two working weeks. I don't think Gemma's granpa will be too happy about this. It'll probably be in his name, considering he's the lucky owner of the car.