Profile
Blog
Photos
Videos
This morning we travelled by our lovely cream and red tourist bus the short distance to Kings Cross train station with its steel tree holding the roof up, the new building blending nicely with the old.
Platform 9 ¾ beckoned us onwards. Although the queue to the platform itself was very short - like non-existent, the boys, strangely, were uninterested in a photo opportunity running at the wall wearing a Hogwarts scarf. They were far more intent on spending their money in the shop adjoining it. But so much choice! We did have a special request for a ticket on the Hogwarts Express, so that was the easy part. The decorations around the walls were just as enthralling as the items on sale. Eventually, arms loaded, wallets nearer empty, we left, feeling the need of a hot drink to recover. The coffee shop had free wi-fi, but we needed to give a postcode for access. Knowing our Aussie one would not work, we looked desperately around for inspiration. HP sauce to the rescue!
Finally, it was time to board our (not-quite) Hogwarts train for our 5.5 hour journey north to Scotland, Our seats discovered, we made a new friend, Warren, an older gentleman, who happily joined in with our intended task of following the train tracks on our ancient road atlas of Britain. He was a very useful participant, offering information regarding industry, farming practices, bridge and church locations, and future holiday destinations. We helpfully suggested to him, though, that he really had no need to be on our train at all, as his ultimate destination being Toronto in Canada, we were of the belief there was a large international airport in London he could have exited the country from!
Consequently, the journey flew by, if not quite magically. We admired the Minster in York, anticipated Durham Cathedral and saw it glowing gold in the late afternoon sun (thanks for the heads-up John Z). Lindisfarne on its Holy Island seemed suitably ancient and the Falkirk Wheel, once we spotted it, impressibly modern.
Then Stirling with its castle, and the end of our journey. We had taken bets as to which of our lovely family members would be waiting eagerly on the platform to welcome us - but there was no-one there….! Matt and Karen took a long stroll up over and down to find the toilet block, and left Nick to mind our bags. Even on our return we were alone. Then a phone call, announcing the illegal parking of our dear Paul outside. He greeted us with warm hugs but cold knees as he had donned his kilt in our honour. Scotland is for the brave, so the advertisements declare, and so do we!
Home to Aberfoyle, greeted by Nicky and Erin, her Paul, baby Ruaridh and the little snowdrop Iona, who had been waiting anxiously for "The Cousins" to arrive. I think she was rather shocked to see how tall they were, but it only set her back for a moment. Within minutes of our arrival she was taking Matt and Nick on a tour of the house, holding firmly onto Nicks hand. Every time he left her sight from then on, we were asked "Where has Nick gone, please? I want to play trains with him."
So, surrounded by new best friends, lovely family (and a couple of mad cats), we felt totally at home in no time.
- comments
Jo Oh to be with you in Aberfoyle amongst family. Trying very hard to quell any feelings of envy...