You gotta love Scotland. Just the mention of the country brings up romantic emotions from some mystical source.
Sarah Morrison
From fall 2003 through the summer of 2004, we had the honor of hosting a foreign exchange student from Dunblane Scotland. Her name is Sarah Morrison. We picked her up from the airport on a blisteringly hot day. She nearly passed out in the Airport carport from the heat. ”Oh my gosh, what have i gotten myself into”. On the way home, she exclaimed “Look at the ‘Film-in’”. We all said “what?”. ” The ’Film-in’” she said. Hmmm… She pointed out the window at the moon. It was full. It was a ’Film-in’. OK, we will have a few challenges here, but it is a common language we share. I could write for days about the different things we did, but that will be another day.
2 months after she headed back to Scotland, our family flew to Scotland to spend a week with her family. Her mom, Flo, and her dad, Uncle John, were excellent hosts. The kids who still lived at home were alot of fun. We spent alot of time just getting to know their family.
St Andrews Scotland
One day we drove out to St Andrew’s: the birthplace of Golf. It was a mysterious cool feeling to walk out onto the first tee and look down that fairway. I just stared and took it in. I thought it would be great to get a scorecard. I walked up to the starter shack. There was a gentleman sitting in there managing the start times. ”Excuse me”, I said to him. “May I buy a scorecard”?. ”NO you may NOT”! he shot back. I didn’t quite know what to say so I just looked at him, hoping for an explanation. ” You may HAVE one”, he said. He saw the puzzled look on my face and explained further. ”I DO sell them, they are 2 Pounds each. But most of you Yanks come to me and say ‘hey man, gimme a score card’. But YOU ASKED me if you could BUY one!!! So YOU, SIR, may HAVE ONE For FREE”. I laughed, and thanked him for the card, and humbly accepted my lesson in the value of being a good ambassador.
St Andrews Scotland
T in the Park 2004
A few days later, Uncle John and I took Sarah and my two boys to an all day festival in Eastern Scotland. The festival is called “T in the Park”. It is an annual Woodstock sort of concert. This year (2004), the headliners were David Bowie, Pink, the Pixies, the Strokes, Kings of Leon, etc. The plan was to show up at noon, but some scalped tickets, drop off the kids, and pick them up at midnight. There were probably 100,000 kids there. It was mayhem. Uncle John stayed in the car while I hunted for tickets with the kids. We found a fair deal quickly. I walked the kids a mile of so to the entrance and saw them in. As I was walking back form the car. I couldn’t believe I was dropping off my 15 and 17 year old in a foreign country. Sarah was there… she was 18, but I still had my doubts I would ever see my kids again.
Tennents Beer
On the way back to the van, I saw two guys sitting on a blanket, wearing T-in-the-Park T-Shirts. I thought it would be great to get some shirts from the family. So I stopped next to their blanket and asked them where they bought the shirts. They just stared at me. They did not even acknowledge my question. So I asked again. This time one of the guys reached into a paper bag. He pulled out a can which looked like a quart of motor oil. He handed it to me and pointed to the top, signaling that I should open it. I looked at the can. It was a Tennents (Tennents is the “T” in “T in the park”). I opened the beer, took a loooong drink. When the beer had thoroughly flowed down my gullet, one of the one guys said to me: “Now, what did you want sir”. I asked him again. “Where did you get those shirts”. ”From the stand over there”, he said. ”But they are all out… sorry dude”. I stood there for another minute enjoying my Scotish gift of brew. I knew uncle John was waiting so I thanked them and bid the adieu. It hit me on that way back to the van. These guys wouldn’t talk to me unless I was drinking a beer with them! Boy, I like this country!
Tappit Hen Dunblane Scotland
In the evenings, after everyone had gone to bed. Alice and I would wait up. About 10PM we would sneak out the front door. We would walk down the street, across the bridge, down past the Cathedral, next to the cemetery, and walk into the Tappet-Hen Pub. They hada whole row of creamy Scotish ails on tap. We started our first night on the far-left tap. Each night we would order a few brews. I don’t think we ever made it down to the end of the line. But hey, it gives us something to aspire to for our next visit.
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