Today we stopped by a section of Hadrian’s Wall, a Roman fortification from the early days.  Not much was left, just a row of stones crumbling into the distance.  The wall used to go much deeper however, meaning much of it has been buried over time.  It makes you wonder how much of our own civilization will remain on the surface in the future.  How do things come to be buried?  Does debris rain from the sky?  Do dust and silt and dead leaves cover the ground then decay and pile up, producing mounds of earth where before great cities stood?  Archaeologists might know the answer to these kinds of questions.  They are constantly digging to uncover artifacts.  Where does all that ground cover come from?  Sifting sands in the desert, I can understand. But normal dirt?

I liked the stone buildings of the farm houses and villages we passed by.  They looked hearty, like they’ve survived harsh winters and droughts.  Not so the Jedburgh Abbey ruin that would have been magnificent had all windows not been removed.  Better preserved was Sir Walter Scott’s Abbotsford House.  Here we stopped for a tour of the famous author’s home.  We saw his desk where he wrote novels such as Waverly and Ivanhoe.  We saw his fantastic library where I’d love to spend days exploring the volumes. Can you imagine someone preserving my house and showing people around my home office?  How nice that the English revere their authors with such respect, although this seems to apply more to the old classics.  We didn’t see nearly the fuss made about Harry Potter as we do in the States.

We had lunch in a pleasant café, tasting a delicious vegetable soup and a not so delicious cheese and tomato sandwich.  They don’t give you grilled cheese sandwiches there like we have here.  This was a few slices of cheddar and tomato between dry pieces of bread.  Nor do they serve salads as a starter course.  You may get a few pieces of lettuce and tomato as a garnish on your plate, but no dressing.  The soups are a better buy and very tasty.  

After filling our stomachs, we had enough time to browse in the gift shop and climb back up the hill to where the coach waited next to a couple of nosy horses eyeing us from behind a fence.

We passed through verdant hills that got higher and wilder as we approached Edinburgh in Scotland. Driving through streets with ancient buildings and a Castle on the hilltop made me wish for more time in this one place to see the museums and other places of interest.  We were let loose on Princes Street for shopping but didn’t buy much, prices being twice as much on the dollar.  And it was cold, so chilly that I had to don my pullover wool sweater under my jacket.  At least we were indoors for dinner, a Scottish evening with several courses and entertainment.  We enjoyed the bagpipers, dancers and singers, and the Ceremony of the Haggis.  Haggis is made out of mashed animal body parts and oatmeal and who knows what else.  It tasted like chewy chopped liver and came with mashed potatoes on the side.  I wouldn’t make it a habit on my regular diet, but the salmon fillet was just right.

After a pleasant evening, my husband and I retired, while our kids went out to a pub. They said the next day that a gang of men wearing kilts came in later, after a sports game, and things got rowdy. That’s when they left. Scotland has a distinctive edge, and it can easily grow on you. So far I am more charmed by this city than any of the others.

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