Winter

I like a country with distinct seasons. I really do. Britain doesn't have seasons, not really. It doesn't have enough weather to have seasons: cloudy-cloudy-cloudy-rain-rain-cloudy-SUNohwaityoumissedit-rain-cloudy.

One thing I will say for it, however: gotta love a country where the grass doesn't die.

Christmas in Swansea, Wales

And now for something completely different...

I finally realized that my pretty, tidy system of picture-ing was wholly reliant upon having my browser exactly square, and that enlarging to full screen put them all out of order.

So this time, I'm trying on full screen. I'd apologize for the formatting, except -- well, I don't intend to.

Right, so. For those I abjectly failed to inform, I didn't come/go home for Christmas, because it was either spend Christmas in the U.K. or be homeless until the end of school.

Originally, Sarah invited me down to Derbyshire for Christmas, but had to change last minute. But before notifying me, she worked it out with Kate for me to go there, instead. Kate lives in Swansea, Wales -- hence the title.

So, Wales is indeed quite pretty. It is also very, very wet.

Jenny (Kate's sister) and I went for a walk on the beach one day. It was drizzly and grey and we were sopping wet at the end of it, but it was fun. We jabbered away about Doctor Who for most of it.

The weather was not especially conducive to good pictures, but I tried. The funky building was an observatory. Innit just neat?




And this is proof that there are, in fact, sunny days in Wales.

Why, there were as many as three in the two weeks I was down there.

Most of the time, we watched films and knitted (we managed six films in one day, once), but we went shopping a few times, too. I actually bought three things, but one is geeky, one's a present, and one's a surprise. So nyeh.

Another day, Jenny and I went walking up on the moors. That was fun, too, albeit windy and cold.

So we talked about monarchy, anarchy, and the destruction of civilization. It was great.

More pretty pictures, although much of the time I was looking into the sun and couldn't tell what I was taking a picture of, anyway.

Hurray for hills.

Rather high up, but so flat up top. Lots of space to roam.

So, Christmas was actually pretty great. Kate predicted that Jenny and I would get on like a house on fire, and she was right. It was fantastic.

Her family was really fun, on the whole. And her mom was very warm and welcoming; they made me very much at home. For a first Christmas away from family, it was actually very easy and pleasant. Quite quiet, too.

Right, I mentioned I knitted, yes? Well, I made a scarf over the holidays.

No, not a scarf. A Scarf. It deserves a capital letter.

It's twice as long as I am tall, and trails on the floor when it's looped around my neck. The stripes -- dark and light brown, burnt orange, moss green, dark red, and off-white -- are of varying lengths and more or less at random. And it has tassels.

For those few who will have any idea what I'm talking about, think Tom Baker from Doctor Who, only slightly more tasteful.




<-- because no picture of Wales would be complete without a picture of sheep.

So, yes. Spent two weeks in Wales, and enjoyed it very, very much.

And Jenny is still awesome. Our conversations went from Doctor Who to serious politics (for serious!) to... well, everywhere.

Incidentally, I'm doing this instead of finishing that last post from the Scotland tour because if I don't put this in now, it'll never get in.

And I'm lazy.

Instead of being a sensible and responsible college student and writing my essay (due next week) or studying for exams (three, also next week), I'm blogging.

Wait, that's an oxymoron, isn't it?

Happy Christmas, merry New Year, and a belated happy birthday to everyone.

...What?

Eilean Donan

I knew this picture would come in handy.

Actually, I just thought it looked cool.

If you click on the picture of the map, you can find 'Eilean Donan Castle' in blue just beside Dornie, east of Kyle of Lochalsh.

Meet Eilean Donan, the prettiest castle in Scotland.

Rainy or not, this was a fantastic day. Beautiful, beautiful castle. They have weddings there, although apparently they don't close to the tourists for them, and I'm told part of a James Bond film (don't ask me which one -- The World Is Not Enough?) was shot here.

Eilean Donan is a small island -- the castle pretty much fills it up -- on Loch Duich.

Unfortunately, photography was prohibited indoors. Got a few pictures from the windows, though.

Indoors was rich and beautiful and frankly amazing. Lots of displays, lots of pictures -- lived up to the outside very well.

Clouds. :D

Raindrops.

Incidentally, the orange-ish stuff on the loch is some kind of algae. Thereon my knowledge fails. But although it should have looked sludgy and gross, it was in reality very, very cool.

This is the bridge from the island to the mainland.

More loch. Beautiful, beautiful loch. I can't stress that enough.

More of the walls and things. Quite a lot of people were wandering through. There were a lot of rooms inside, nearly all of them with interesdting displays.

Again, if you click on the picture, it will get bigger.

This is magic.

If you do so, you'll see... two raindrops. But also the Scottish flag. Pretty sludge.

I know it's redundant to put this final picture. My excuse is that it's pretty.

The last installment of the sixteenth of September will have to wait for another day, because I'm getting tired of this.

...Pretty castle!

Carbisdale->

Instead of actually working on my (other) essay, I decided to spam photos. It's only been, what, a month and a half since the last instillation of this ten-day journey.

I'm actually going to split this one up quite a bit, 'cause when I say 'spam photos,' I really mean that I liked them all too much -- or rather, was too lazy to discriminate -- to leave any out, and it's a pain to do posts with more than a dozen and a half or so pictures.

'T any rate, last time, we concluded the Highlands, ending technically on Shin Falls, although the day ended with Carbisdale. Well, this is Carbisdale. They have a youth hostel in a castle. Can you get more awesome?

Inside was pretty neat. Obviously a pretty worn place -- it was, in case you were wondered, thoroughly painted, papered, and carpeted, so no bare stone walls or floors -- but quite lovely. Lots of plaster nudity, some cracked paintings. The library was fantastic: glorious, big room, warmly furnished, with two great bookcases (must've been easily ten feet long?). I prevented Mom from going to bed on time because I sat and read Kidnapped all that evening. It seemed appropriate.

So yes, lots of castle-y pictures here. It was really a grand old place. The morning was drizzly and wet, but I couldn't help taking a few commemorative pictures. Mostly because Mom wouldn't let us leave until I did.

I admit to a great fondness for scenes framed by walls and thingies. Is it obvious?

Also, the grey, rainy light of the Scottish morning may not be classic picture-taking light, but it gets some really gorgeous (if painfully amateur) glow-y-y effects.




I should intersperse comments about my general life here, if only to break up the great white spaces.

Well, I won't.

So there.




Wall. Pretty wall.

I tried to take a picture of a spiderweb, but it was quite beyond my poor camera's capabilities. Alas.

Yes, as it happens, the view was lovely. That sort of goes without saying in Scotland.

No, it doesn't, necessarily. I was employing artistic hyperbole.

Well, not necessarily artistic.

Just kind of smug, really.

These were the outer gates, some space down from the actual castle. This place was somewhat out in the middle of nowhere -- I think it was only about four or six miles from the nearest town, but it was a windy, lonely little path and the signs were easy to miss.

Onward and upward, in theory. Westward and southward, actually. From Carbisdale, we headed towards Skye. I think most of these pictures really go without saying.

If you look really hard, you can see a bridge in the background.

No, I don't remember which one it is. Why?





The houses across the loch. Often pretty little white things, strung together by long and winding roads.

Wouldn't you like to live there? I'd have no objections, me.

Redundant images? Just possibly.

Darned pretty, though.

Just so you know, there are about a zillion lochs in Scotland. They're often hard to find on the map, and it's even harder to remember all their names, so I hope you'll forgive my memory on this count.

Despite the camera's complete failure to capture the epic scenery, this is probably among my favourite pictures.

Flower!

Probably two more posts to conclude this day -- I can't remember how many pictures I took of Eilean Donan. Prettiest castle ever.

Anyway, more forthcoming. Possibly even soon.

So, St. Andrew's Night was great. Cock-and-leekie soup, haggis and neeps and tatties, braised steak Nevis, trifles and tea. Alistair has a fantastic voice -- sang us some traditional Scots music. Jaimie Stuart, author of A Glasgow Bible, read some of his 'translations' to us -- very energetic man.

I got to talk to Adam and Simon for a while, too, which was really great. I don't see them often, since they're in second year, and they were really fun to talk to.

Oh, and I learned I can talk to two people at once. Isn't that neat?

52 miles in the past two weeks.

P.S.

I may be a brilliant, witty, and eloquent blogger, as my readership will attest (you may laugh, but it's true: much of it is related to me), but an orator I am not.

Lead fellowship group yesterday; the activity went much better than I expected, but I'm absolute rubbish at explaining things.

The last four times I've gone to college, I've walked both ways -- hoping, perhaps, that by saving bus money, I'll somehow feel less guilty for spending £8 on two pieces of sheet music -- two-thirds of one I already have, on the wrong continent. And less guilty about those chocolate bars...

Incidentally, for those I haven't bragged to yet, I walk to college in the mornings, four times a week, and take the bus home. Said walk is about four miles, approximating by my pace: it takes me an hour and ten minutes to walk it, but 6-10 minutes of that is waiting for traffic lights (10.5 by my watch today).

Most people I talk to are suitably impressed at that.

This entry occurs because I'm too lazy to, you know, edit the previous post instead of going to the trouble of writing a new one.

Consistency has never been my strong point.