Wednesday, 8 June 2011

The National Trust Wants You

 If one is going to spend any significant amount of time in Scotland and enjoy its many beautiful and historic sights, it is best to sign up for the National Trust. It only costs fifteen pounds for a year's subscription, and once you've paid that you get into any of the National Trust sights for free.

As I knew I wasn't going to spend too much time here, I never signed up for an account, and when Nat, Fran, and I all drove to the House of the Binns (approximately thirty minutes from the city), I was the only one who had to pay; though before we set out, Natalie had tried to convince Fran to let us go alone and let me use his card.

Natalie: Let Sanna have your card.
Fran: No, no! She can't. It's written under a boy's name. It's registered under...Francis...

 It was a dark and rainy day.

 Fran and Nat warm themselves by the fireside in the lobby of the House of the Binns.

 Rain makes grass greener and peacocks wetter.

 The House of the Binns

 Looking snappy even in a sheep's pasture

Fran walks resolutely towards the completely pointless tower that was built to see who could build the most pointless building for less than one hundred pounds.

A sheep

Nat and I had forgotten to break for a midday meal and after our sightseeing tour, we were feeling a bit peckish. Fran was kind enough to drive us to McDonald's for a snack to hold us over until dinner.

Fran: Medium Coke and a large fries, please.
Drive Thru Attendant: Would you like onion rings with your order?
Fran: Are they free?
Drive Thru Attendant: No.
Fran: Ah.

Later that evening, Fran made us all haggis, neeps, and tatties; he burned his hand when grabbing a pot without oven mittens. He wrapped it in cling wrap and spent the entire evening with a cold beer in his hand. And then I played with Indy (who is named after Horation Hornblower's ship the Indefatigable); she was especially happy and hopped around the room, waffling over us with her silky soft nose and starting into binkies--little ecstatic twitches of joy, the happiest expression of a rabbit, meaning she is well-pleased with her lot on life.

Again, I can only ask, why do I not have a bunny of my own?

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