Scotland- Day 5: Abbotsford, Melrose Abbey, and Edinburgh- June 18, 2019

I slept more solidly last night and was not awakened by the sunrise at 4:26 (!) am. I didn't hear my husband K get up to shower at 6:30 and I managed to sleep until my alarm went off at 7. Hurrah!
I was still stretching, when he went down to breakfast at 7:25, but I was able to join him at 7:40. I actually found him at a table in the dining area this time. I also remembered to take a photo of my breakfast. I like oatmeal, but I am really enjoying this porridge.

When we came back downstairs for the bus at 8:26, I checked the weather. It was 55, felt like 51 and it was fair. That's a good sign.  Brian and Brendalee make very good seat markers. We didn't even have to count 5 seats to find our new seat, as they were already in place.The bus departed at 8:31.
I did try to stay awake during the ride. I was only partially successful. When I awoke, I found some rather bucolic scenery out my window.

Our first destination was the Scottish Lowlands nearer the border with England, known as the Borders. Glasgow and Edinburgh are in the Central Lowlands. We were headed for Abbotsford, the home of Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832), which is near the largest town in the Borders, Galashiel. It is near the River Tweed. (I kind of like that they put "River" first and then the name, rather than our reversal of that.)
When we arrived at 9:45, it was really windy. We had to wait a few minutes for our docent to come to give us a tour. He had two young women with him, one of whom was an intern and the other was actually a distant relative to Scott. On the walk to the house, we saw some lovely wildflowers.

As we stood in front of the house, he told us all kinds of things about the house and how it was constructed. It started as a farmhouse that he bought in 1812 and Scott kept adding to it and remodeling in various architectural styles. While Scott was an historical novelist, poet, playwright and historian, he had a day job as Clerk of Session (clerk of courts) and Sheriff-Depute of Selkirkshire (kind of a judge for civil and criminal cases up to Ł 100,000). It was a quiet area, so he had plenty of time to write. It also meant he had money to do this. However, a reversal in his fortunes, put him into debt and the estate was in debt. His creditors gifted him his library and other items, as he was held in such regard as a writer. in 1847, a publisher canceled the rest of the debt in exchange for the family's share in the copyrights to his works.
The house looks really cool because of the mix of styles. The part beyond the arch is the newest part, built for his daughter, as I recall, after his death. People were already visiting while he was still alive, wanting to see the famous author. After his death, the house was opened to the many, many people who wanted to see where he lived. The family depended on the admission fee for the upkeep of the place. The family lived in the house until 2004.

 Scott was a collector, which we'd really see inside, but signs of it were outside, too.

One of the things the guide pointed out was the heart with the left hand on it. That was a baronial symbol. He was Sir Walter Scott, after all.

The Entrance Hall is a museum in and of itself. The walls are covered with armor, weapons, animal skulls, and more. The ceiling has shields of the various Scottish clans and the windows are stained glass.

 The study is next with its 2000 books, exactly on the shelves where he left them. There is a double gas lamp over the desk, which has glass on the open top drawer so that you can see Sir Walter's things. There was a secret door in the room, so that he could slip up to his bedroom, when he wasn't feeling well and didn't want to see visitors.

We moved next to the library. Oh. My. Gosh. What a library! 7000 volumes! It was a beautiful, big room, with lovely ceiling decorations and a great view out to the River Tweed. Scott had some books locked up, because he thought they were too dangerous for the staff to read. They were on topics such as witchcraft.

Next door was the drawing room, where the family liked to gather. The harp that his daughter received from her fiance is there. The wallpaper came from China and is quite elaborate. Speaking of elaborate, take a look at the ceiling where the chandelier is hanging. The walls feature family portraits, including one of Scott and his dogs and one of his wife, Charlotte Carpenter, to whom he had proposed after an only three-week-long romance.

 

We were led into a small hall that was the armory. An awful lot of weapons on those walls!

Next up was the dining room, a bright, cheery room, where Sir Walter Scott also died. When he was too ill to be going upstairs to his room, he was set up in this room. The view out the window was nice, too.

Finished with the indoor portion, the guide took us out to the gardens, which Scott had seen as outdoor rooms. The first was the South Court, where we'd entered, which was meant to be the formal entrance to the house. The Gothic arcade was based on the cloister at Melrose Abbey. Next to it is a large rather formal space known to Scott as the East Court, but also known as Morris Garden. I liked the third one best, the Walled Garden, with all its flowers, was also the kitchen garden, producing food.

The docent had told us, that we could move on through the gardens as we liked, or stay to hear more. Our time was running short, and I wanted to get to the modern Visitor's Center to pick up postcards.
So, after quickly taking photos, I hurried up the path. I hate having to rush in shops. I found cards for a total of Ł 5.20, but was disappointed to find no pin.
We were on the bus by 11:30 and on the road for just ten minutes. I did manage to photograph sheep along the way, though.

It was windy at our next stop, the aforementioned Melrose Abbey, which had been St. Mary's Abbey of the Cistercian order. Now it is a partial ruin, that must have just thrilled the Romantics. It oozes atmosphere and is incredibly photogenic. Sir Walter Scott  supervised the repairs that preserved it. Why was it abandoned? Attacks during the Reformation. Oliver Cromwell's troops actually fired on it during the English Civil War. Legend has it that Robert the Bruce's heart was buried here. There is no way to prove that the heart that is there is his.
Keep an eye out for the photo of the random pig sculpture. The photos from the rooftop were courtesy of K, who kindly climbed up there for me.

After roaming around in the graveyard next to the abbey and taking more photos, I was ready to head for the shop and then to lunch. K wanted to go to the adjoining museum, so we agreed to meet at the Abbey Woollen Mills Tea Room, the suggested lunch stop.
As I reached the shops, I could hear a tour guide speaking to a group in German. Although I was sorely tempted to stay and listen, I went in the shop. I found postcards and pins, including one of the plaque for Robert the Bruce's heart. A great find!
I headed down the street at 12:28 and was at the Woollen Mills in twelve minutes. They were not really like Blarney Woolen Mills in Ireland, which is huge and full of stuff. The first thing I noticed as I stepped inside was the musty smell. There were just two rooms of items for sale and none of it rocked my world. So, I climbed the steps to the Tea Room, which we'd been told was quick and reasonably priced. When I stepped out of the restroom, K was standing there waiting.
We soon discovered that the tea room was not quick at all. We ordered a Cheese Ploughman's Sandwich for Ł 3.75 and a Cheese and Ham Panini for Ł 5.50, with the idea of splitting them. We got two Coke Zeros for Ł1.95 each. Since we were in Britain, we picked up a fruit scone for Ł1.50. We went to a table with the Cokes and the scone and proceeded to wait. It really took them a long time to make those sandwiches. When they did come, they were very good.

We were to be on the bus at 1:30 and we made it with just four minutes to spare. We departed three minutes later and I took advantage of the Wi-Fi to find out that it was 65, feels like 63 and partly cloudy. I also took the opportunity to post some photos to Facebook, complete with captions, that I am assured are appreciated back home. Traffic soon got heavy, which was worrisome to many in the group, because they were going on the excursion to the H.M.S. Britannia and knew they had to leave about 3. I wasn't that keen on climbing around a boat, no matter how nice it was and K said that he could live without it. So, we didn't sign up.
When we got to the hotel at 2:45, I just really needed a nap. K read, while I got some much needed rest.
We left at 4:36, making a stop at the Scotland Tourist Office for brochures for the trip album on our way to our reservation at The Real Mary King's Close. Once we arrived there, we were directed down the close to wait outside the restaurant there. A "close" ( sounds like the way you say close, when you mean nearby) is a Scottish term for an alleyway that is private property and therefore gated, or "closed". All the ones along the Royal Mile are no longer gated, from what I could see.
We waited only ten minutes, as promptly at 5, our costumed tour guide, who introduced himself as the man who removed the dead bodies from the plague houses. He lead us inside, where we were given an introduction to the people who had resided once upon a time on the close, via pictures of them that came to life and talked to us. Mary King, for whom the close is named, had inherited her husband's business upon his death. One of the people who will stick with you is the doctor, because he talked about having to taste your urine to determine whether or not you had diabetes. Yuck!
We couldn't take photos, but it was pretty dark anyway. We were being led down through the various floors of the tenements that had stood a good eight stories high from its base down in what is now New Town to up above the Royal Mile. The top of the tenements had been demolished to build the building that is now the city chambers. A tenement wasn't the same as we think of in the US. There, you had all classes in the same building. The richer folks did get to live in the upper floors however.
We heard what life was like in the crowded city and that Mary Queen of Scots had even hidden here one night. We learned about the plague and the terror it engendered. There is even part of the close still down under there and we saw how the doors of homes fronted it and how steep it was. It was quite interesting.
The tour ended at 5:55 at the gift shop, of course. I bought some cards and other items and we made use of their really nice restrooms. At 6:10, we went off to do some reconnoitering for our return day-trip the day the tour ended.
I had already seen the Museum of Childhood, where I intend to go that day. We wanted to see how to get to the National Museum of Scotland, as we plan to meet there. On the way we passed some landmarks on George IV Bridge. First, it was The Elephant House, which had been pointed out to us on the driving portion of our city tour. As the sign in the window proudly proclaims, this is the birthplace of Harry Potter, since it was here that J. K. Rowling had written the first book. Plenty of tourists stopped for a photo. Then it was Greyfriars Bobby with its statue of Bobby, a Victorian Skye terrier, who supposedly stood by his master's grave for 14 years. Disney even made a movie.  Next is the entrance to the graveyard known as Greyfriars Cemetery, where you find names like Thomas Riddell and McGanagall, that seem to have inspired J.K. My K was not willing to go explore. (By the way there is a Potterrow Street nearby and George Heriot's  School, which is supposed to have inspired Hogwarts.)

The National Museum was sort of catercorner from the Greyfriars. There I was delighted to  find two
more Wullies: Wullies Rainbow and Broon Raker. Again, they were quite detailed.

We walked along the imposing facade of the museum looking for the entrance. I couldn't really tell where it was, as the thing was all shut up. We crossed the street and at Guthrie Street, we came upon this sign:

Research later told me that the family lived on the third floor of a tenement in College Wynd (a "wynd", pronounced like wind a clock, is a kind of alley or narrow street that a horse and cart could go down), which climbed from Grassmarket to the University of Edinburgh. That was actually K's destination for our day trip, specifically St. Cecilia's Hall.
Since he wanted to be sure of where that was, he wanted to go down Guthrie to find it and that was literally "down". I just didn't want to put my knees through that. So, we agreed to meet at Byron's near the hotel, and he went his way and I continued down the street to South Bridge. There was plenty of traffic there at about 6:30. Generally, on the bridge, you think you are on a normal street, until you come to the spot where it crosses over Cowgate. I took a photo to show just how far the buildings go down to that level, often with what looks like another "first" floor at the bottom.

When I got to Byron at 6:40, K was waiting. It turned out that from his destination it was a short walk up Niddry Street to the Royal Mile. My knees weren't happy to have to go up steps to go inside, or to go up more once we were inside. When asked, we quickly turned down going downstairs to eat. So, we were placed at a table not far from the open kitchen where we were. I ordered a Classic Burger and fries for Ł 8.95 to see what they thought it was, and I could not resist the Triple Chocolate Shake for Ł 5.50. K  ordered a Classic, too, but for another Ł1.75, he added avocado. The shake came first and it was thick and chunky with bits of Oreos.  The burgers took longer, but they were thick and juicy. I was thrilled to be have a true treat- fries with malt vinegar that I liberally added myself. It was a good meal.

When we left at 7:38, we decided to check out some of the shops on North Bridge. In one across the street from the hotel, I found out that my husband's first name is the name of a Scottish clan. I convinced him that he needed a coaster in his tartan.
We got back to the room, it was about 8. Since the tour leaves town tomorrow, it meant that we had to pack the suitcases again and decide what to leave out for the carry-on luggage. I hate packing. Around 9:30, I looked out to photograph the setting sun over the Firth of Forth one last time. Actual sunset would be at 10:02.

The phone said that I walked 7,704 steps for a total of 2.5 miles. It also says I climbed one floor. Seriously? Was it paying any attention at Mary King's?