Day two in Edinburgh from six years ago. I’m continuing the Honeymoon Chronicles journey that I wrote about whilst on that trip (I started on the train from London to Paris). Here we go!
Next was the moving from Dalmahoy to Dalhousie Castle, the place of our wedding. The hired driver, whose name was Meni is originally from Pakistan but has lived in the UK since he was 8. He was way past 8. He told us stories of history and lifestyle in this quaint town. Then we arrived. Dalhousie Castle.
There are not enough good things to say about Dalhousie Castle. Really, there isn’t. It’s old – 15th Century, actually. It’s charming. The staff was so endearing, helpful, and accommodating. Our room wasn’t quite ready so we used Meni to get us back into town (along with my kilt; did I mention the kilt?) so I could be fitted for the kilt hire. Now the kilt was mine but the rest of the accouterments I had to rent, or as they say, hire. Graeme was awesome and had to even give me bigger socks to fit my rather meaty calves along with ghillie brogues (special shoes) that were one size larger as well. A very pleasant experience that was not unlike trying on a tuxedo in the states.
Then, we had to obtain a taxi and the driver of the requisite black taxi company we got had the personality of a pebble stuck in the tread of the tire. At one point, he even held an extra 25 seconds at a red light because he was reading something. He made fun of the way I said Dalhousie and didn’t speak after that other than to tell us how much the fare was. He was horrible.
Back at the castle, our room was ready and we went to check it out. Again, I can’t enough about the castle. Was a wonderful place. If there was anything that I could say that was wrong was the staircases. There are no lifts (see?) and the only way to get to the room was via stairs. The stairs were the floating kind (meaning no supports visible underneath) and obviously didn’t like the fact that I was a rotund and weighty man. Every time I made a step, the stairs creaked and moaned like they were going to collapse. Truly, it took until we checked out that I even got used to that; not comfortable, mind you, used to it. The room was on the third floor and was the Dalwosie Room. It was private. It was small, but I figure that most of them were. We’re in a castle for goodness sake; the class and style should supersede the space and I’m ok with that. A bathroom that was separated by a small corridor that lead to the bed chamber with a small dressing table in a nook. You’ll see from the pictures. The bed was quite old, perhaps by 100s of years, who’s to say? It had a weird feature in that the foot of the bed was slightly elevated in contrast to the head. It may have been an illusion but that’s how I saw it. The TV was small and off to the right of the room but who had time to watch that?
Back out again (this is the third time through Edinburgh this day) to have a walk about and grab some dinner. One thing The BCPF and I pride ourselves on is the fact that we’re good at “stumbling upon” good-to-great places to feed our faces. Nestled back in a close (along with wynds, basically Scottish alleys that are named) and located at the end of a decorative stick and light awning-lined corridor was a great little modern Scottish establishment known as Monteith’s. We told them that we were getting married the next day and they brought us a glass of champagne each, along with their congratulations. I had the lox and she had risotto with quail egg. We traded bites and enjoyed the flavors immensely. The egg ran all over her risotto and along with the pea tendrils, made the entire dish delish. There wasn’t really anything extraordinary about the lox, they were tender, smoky, and spot-on. I then had the rib eye rare, like I do, and a stack of potatoes (fries basically), while she had chicken over creamed potatoes
and caramelized onion.
The steak was perfectly prepared and of a decent size; not overly spiced. Her potatoes were decadently creamy and the chicken was moist. Then for dessert, she had chocolate on chocolate cake while I had a raspberry crème brulee along with an alco-bev each (chocolate for her and something orange for me). The dessert was probably the least favorite of the whole meal for me.
This has gone on really long and I’ve not even started talking about the wedding yet, which I know, dear reader, you’re just dying to hear about, or maybe you’re not, but anywhat, I’ll be getting to it soon. I have plenty more to write. Maybe even tomorrow. You never know.
Obviously, I wrote more. I haven’t stopped writing since November 1, 2014. We’ll continue the story tomorrow. It’s a big day, after all. I know I make y’all sick with the PDA, but I don’t care. I’m proud of our story.
Until tomorrow, same blog channel…
“Edinburgh is so cultural and such a beautiful place to walk around.” – Rupert Friend