Scotland - Day Twenty Four - Broughty Ferry, Glamis Castle, Scone Palace, Kinghorn

Day 24 - on the road again. And quite frankly, much as I adore the very bones of him, if he continues to sing that; Every. Single. Time. That we get in the “Porsche” I’m not sure he’ll make it back to NZ.

First things first and it was off to mingle with the rich in Broughty Ferry. Within minutes I announced with conviction to the Favourite Husband “I’ve found my people.”

“What people?” He asked, bemused. “There are no ‘your’ people. No one is like you. It’s just, you.” I wasn’t sure whether to be offended or flattered, so I chose the latter.

“A town that has a shop called The Cheesery, is a town speaking my language.” I replied.

“They’re not speaking your language.” He said. “They’re closed.”

We had a quick breakkie and then it was a wander round the shops. I do wish we’d had more time there. If you go to Dundee, make time to spend in Broughty Ferry. The credit card could get a jolly good workout.

As it was I only had time to make one quick purchase. And you guessed it, I’m now up to THREE books for my library when I get home. The Favourite Husband is quite jealous I can tell, so far all he’s managed is 2 ropey T-shirts. Amateur.

We explored the beach and the castle. Entry is free and there’s good information that carries on from what we learnt yesterday (pay attention at the back) about the jute industry and the wealthy jute “barons.”

From here it was off to Glamis Castle, or Glamour Castle as I prefer. Glamis Castle was the home of the Queen Mother and who didn’t love her right? Interestingly, this is the first place we have visited that as we were buying our tickets they said “the tour is about to start in 10 minutes.” The Favourite Husband and I looked at each other aghast. I made the gagging on a hairball face, as he rolled his eyes. Just for the record, and in case you’re in any doubt, we’re not guided tour people. We’re more “organic” or “independent” as I prefer.

“We’ll just do our own thing” he said confidently.

“But do their own thing they did not …”Narrator.

You see it’s not optional. You can only tour Glamis Castle with a guide. And I am utterly converted. She was brilliant for a start. The group wasn’t huge so it wasn’t too painful. And it just meant that you could listen, absorb, take it in, have a bit of a look. Move on. No reading or downloading an app. I really enjoyed it.

The best bit was where the guide said, and I quote; “the most important lady in the history of Glamis Castle, is that one, between the windows …” And there I was. Like an angelic beacon of light. All eyes on me. Only ruined by the definite snort of the Favourite Husband from across the room, as I beamed and blushed. Turned out it was a portrait above me.

I particularly liked the chapel at Glamis and its superb painted ceiling. Beautiful artwork in panels and yet with an almost rustic feel to them too. Think I may add chapel and/or painted ceiling to my home improvement list.

There’s no photography allowed inside, so you’ll have to add it to your list. We did get to go through what was the Queen Mother’s drawing room and where she slept and all sorts, so if you’re a Royal Family fan you might enjoy it.

Then we were off again, racing down country lanes in the “Porsche” with the wind not blowing through our hair. It did occur to me again though, the timing of our trip could not have been better with regards to the Autumn colours and the leaves on the trees, another couple of weeks and it may not be so good.

From Glamis Castle we were off to Scone Palace. I had to ask when we got there around the pronunciation and was reliably informed it’s nearer to “Scoone” than what you might think of in terms of an item from the bakery.

Now, I’ll advise you here, if the little ticket booth at the car park is closed, you need to go to the shop and buy entry to the palace. Don’t be us. Don’t rock up all teeth and tits and then end up having to do the walk of shame back to get your entry wristband.

Again no photography but you can download an app. I found the app was just too much information to read and so it detracted from what you were looking at. There’s a good movie with a lot of history that you can watch towards the end. Fascinating history and we enjoyed it. But I couldn’t have done anymore. Originally I had included a 2 hour hike in today’s itinerary, it would have been impossible. (When I have time, when I get home, I’ll post about lots of things that we didn’t get to do that others might enjoy.)

From there we were off to our random resting place for tonight and a beautiful dinner.

Now I started booking our accommodation as I planned our route about 10 months prior to actually being here. And because I’m a woman of a certain age, I’m not always sure I can recall the reasoning behind some of those decisions. This afternoon being one of them as we found ourselves in a fabulous converted chapel for the night in the village of Kinghorn. We arrived around 4pm which we have generally found throughout our trip is our cut off point. We were met by the super friendly hosts who carried our (increasingly) heavy bags up and explained a few things which included a recommendation of where to eat dinner. I hurried them along so I could cut to the chase.

“Where might be showing the football?” I asked. “It’s my team versus his team, it’s date night …”

Poor lady looked so bemused but happily pointed us in the direction of one of the pubs which I speed walked us to. Now the Favourite Husband is not as comfortable as I am with how we British folk, some of us, love nothing more than watching the footie in a pub. It was packed. It was noisy. His little face fell. I pointed him in the direction of the only available table and chairs and went to the bar. I’d already told him that under no circumstances was he ordering a coffee. We settled in. A match was on. Not our match. Weird. I checked the schedule on my phone. So that would be tomorrow they’re playing then. Dear lord.

Then off to The Ship for a surprisingly excellent dinner. From the outside The Ship looks like an average old pub, inside, fine dining. Fantastic.

And then it was early to bed. It’s go, go, go tomorrow.

After dinner tonight, the Favourite Husband announced he was feeling ok about going home next week.

“How come?” I asked, surprised.

“I need a bloody rest, you’ve exhausted me” he said. But he was laughing too. If you looked really hard.