Sunday. Bliss. We didn’t wake up at 4am! Last night before going to bed, Rosie discovered the windows in this host house in Clunie, Perthshire has inside wooden shutters. So she shut up the windows with them. And we didn’t properly wake up till after 8am with a darkened room. Instead of a room flooded with light, there were just cracks of light poking through and around the shutters.

Reminds me of a favourite quote from Leonard Cohen. “There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

We love the long summer evenings, but are finding the early, early sunny starts to the morning tiring. Hardly anyone has proper curtains on their windows! So we wake when the room gets light. Every big Georgian window in this house looks out on to a bucolic scene. Like a framed picture. A meadow, or paddocks with trees. Cows contently chewing away. Meadowflowers.

We helped ourselves to the German breakfast of meat and cheese and chatted for quite a while with Alex and Esther. Interesting to hear how they’ve adapted to the Scottish culture. Their young children have broad Scottish accents. Enjoyed too, their perspective on the upcoming Scottish independence referendum. It’s interesting to hear how so many different viewpoints of it all.  I have no opinion either way. And I’m not emotionally attached to the decision either. So I can just listen. Many of them say it’s such an emotional issue that they don’t discuss it with their friends because it’s too disruptive and eruptive.

Rosie and I had been planning to going to the church service in the church next door. Alex and Esther don’t go, but we thought we’d like to. This huge old church building only has services once a month. They have to have services once a month or it gets closed down. I have no idea how many people go to it. But the service didn’t even start till 11.15am, so we had to let that idea go. In John’s car is a CDplayer and a glove box full of CDs. Going through the Highlands and over the Grampians we had listened to U2, Enya and Frank Sinatra. An eclectic bunch. But today we listened to Hymns. And loved it. Sang along sometimes. Rosie knows lots of them too. Faint memories from her childhood. And great jumping off points for interesting conversations.

We drove to the nearby village of Birnham and Dunkeld, where we’d had tea last night. We had discovered last evening that Beatrix Potter had spent her childhood holidays there and it had highly coloured and influenced her books. There was a very small commerative garden opposite the pub and we explored that.

We thought we’d do another walk. And the walk to the top of Birnham Hill sounded interesting. It always takes us ages to find the starting points of these walks. Once you know where to go, they’re easy to find!

Rosie and I decided that there are definite phases in these walks of ours.  As we start off we think, “This is pleasant. I’m enjoying this. A very pleasant stroll.”

A bit later on, and the thought crosses our mind. “Actually this is turning out to be a little bit more strenuous and difficult that I’d imagined it to be.”

Further on, and I’m thinking, “What one earth possessed me to even do this walk? I should be sitting back in the cafe in the High Street, or wheverever normal people sit and be drinking a hot chocolate. Maybe this is far enough. I don’t really need to reach the summit.”

We finally make it to the top. And it’s always exhilerating! And I think to myself, “This is fantastic! I am so glad I’m here. I wouldn’t have missed this for worlds. Completely worth all the effort and struggle.”

Then as I’m descending I think, “I don’t know why you made such a fuss in your head. It wasn’t really that bad. I don’t know why you have these debates going on in your head!”

The view on the top of the hill was 360 degrees, looking out over hills and more hills and green trees everywhere. Over on one set of hills was a huge wind farm, their giant white whirling arms a blot on the scenic landscape. I’ve heard lots of different opinions about them too!

Just as we got to the top of Birnham Hill, I noticed some little dark berries on a low growing bush. And they looked interesting, and probably edible.  So I tried a few. A bit tart, but delicious too. So I had a few more. Offered them to Rosie who also liked them and thought that maybe they were like the wild blueberries she had had found and tasted on her Romanian trek last year. But I thought I had probably better not eat too many. Just in case it wasn’t an edible proposition. But then a man and his son went by on their mountain bikes and he confirmed that they were blueberries indeed. So then we had a feast. Blue stained fingers and lips. Best tasting blueberries I’ve ever eaten. (And yes, crazy people go mountain bike riding up very steep hills, although sometimes they have to carry their bikes some of the way!)

 

Doing downhill was very steep too. “Interesting” on the knees!

We spent a bit of time in a little “Beatrix Potter” cafe and exhibition in the village where we rewarded ourselves with a hot chocolate drink, after such a strenuous climb.

We had planned to eat our picnic lunch down by the beautiful Tay River. But a big stormcloud came over and it bucketed with rain. So we had to eat it in the car.

We were fairly close to Edinborough, but once again, we went a much longer scenic route. Motorways are very boring to drive on. So we detoured on country roads, driving through St Andrews which apparently has the most famous golf course in the world. It’s a very pretty university town. Lots of grey stone old buildings. We were trying to find the beach there because we’d been told that they also have a wonderful beach there. But we couldn’t find it. And anyway, we haadn’t seen anything in the remotest way anywhere in Scotland that could be called a wonderful beach.  They might have them. I just didn’t see any.

We were also getting tired too, so we kept on turning our heads towards Edinburgh Rosie navigated us all the way back. Only twice did we need to do a little “adjusting” in our navigated trip back. Filled up the car with diesel. And don’t tell my family, but we bought – and ate – prepared micro-wave meals for our tea that night. John who is away at the moment, is renovating his kitchen, and the microwave is the only appliance working. And it even tasted half-good enough!