Of all the accents I’ve encountered, Scottish is by far the one that bamboozles me the most.
I blame their knack of mangling and rolling all their words together for my walking around in torrential rain in Glasgow searching for ‘Kings Street’ train station.
Turns out it doesn’t exist, it was just my misinterpretation of a Glaswegian saying ‘Queen Street.’
Same goes for training from Inverness to Edinburgh.
I thought I was on the right train, until a voice came on the loud speaker announcing – ‘this train is for Inverwaverley.’
I’d never heard of a place called ‘Inverwaverley,’ so I hurriedly grab my gear, get off the train and go find the conductor.
But when I ask him where the train for Edinburgh is departing from, he points at the train I’ve just just got off, so I explain that the loud speaker said it was going to some place called ‘Inverwaverley.’
He laughs and says ‘aye, Edinburgh Waverley.’
Awkward, but not as awkward as when I get back on the train and nearly stand on a blind man’s guide dog.
In fairness, it was the same colour as the carpet.
But I dug myself a massive hole when I apologised – ‘I’m sorry my eyes aren’t great.’
Luckily he saw the funny side, chuckled and replied – ‘mine neither, I’m blind.’
Apart from that, I don’t have much else to write about Scotland.
Don’t get me wrong, I love the place, but the weather was atrocious, particularly for castle exploring in Stirling and Edinburgh.
And, before you ask, no, I’m not wearing sneans, they’re just very clean Converse chucks.
I’ll admit that my standards have dropped backpacking, but not that much.
As for how I filled my days in Edinburgh, I visited the new Scottish Parliament buildings, which are renowned for being very expensive but not looking like it.
And through utter luck, I stumbled across guests arriving for the Queen’s Garden Party at Holyrood Palace and decided to rubberneck it from the Crags.
Apart from that I spent a lot of time in my friends’s kitchen.
I even cooked my first bacon and egg pie since ages ago.
Turns out bacon and egg pie drowning in tomato sauce is a very New Zealand thing.
I was amazed, I thought pies with bacon and egg filling and a crap load of tomato sauce were universal.
As for why I found myself in the kitchen – according to my friend’s fiancée (who’s given himself the nickname ‘Swesley’) she has meat dehydrating skills.
But she makes up for it in the fact she has ultra-marathon running skills.
What that means is one marathon just isn’t long enough for her, she prefers to run about three of them back to back.
She’s a freak – but in a good way.
And as an end note, she recently joined the bloggersphere and you can check out her blog here.