Saucy Waiters Spice up Supper Service

carson

Jack’s weekly guest blog reaches us from the Old Country

One of the highlights of my year is the annual small group tour of Scotland I organize. This being an even-numbered year, we do the Highlands and Islands.

The tour started Sunday, and so far it’s been a delight: decent weather, good hotels and food and a delightful group of fellow travelers.

Not without its moments, of course. Our first evening in our Crianlarich hotel, we sat down to dinner and were approached by the ‘Maitre D’, whose lapel badge identified him as ‘Andy’. Launching in a plumby accent that would not have been out of place on Downton Abbey–or perhaps Fawlty Towers–he attempted to entice us away from our special group price dinner with pricey items on the regular menu. When that failed, he offered special deals on personal recommendations from the wine list (none of them particularly cheap).

Everyone’s got to make a living, but if the man had had an ‘Americans are rich–and cheap and easy’ sign above his forehead, he could not have been more obvious. As our meal continued he could be guaranteed to regularly interrupt our conversation as he got into the full flow of his ‘act’.

temp wendyFortunately, I’m traveling with a group of people whose senses of humor are as strong as their accents. And he’s made good fodder for follow-up impersonations as the week progresses. All someone has to do is say ‘May I recommend’ and the rest of the van passengers fall about laughing.temp wendy 2

I was reminded of an overnight Wendy and I spent at a Bed and Breakfast in a historic area which shall be nameless. At breakfast we were having an interesting conversation with our fellow guests when the lady in charge, having served the food, launched into an hour long presentation (clearly learned by heart) on the history of the town – in a way that would brook no interruptions from any of us. Glances were exchanged and diversionary gambits attempted, to no avail. Bless her heart! But it was interesting. And she wasn’t trying to sell us anything.

And then there was the first Scottish tour I put together. At breakfast in the Birnam Hotel, we were attended to by the indefatigable Margaret, who had served under a variety of owners over the years and thus was effectively in charge of meal-time discipline. When one of our party wwondered aloud if she could order a variation on one of the menu dishes,  our driver Colin opined “I’m sure that would be fine”. The hovering Margaret quickly put him right, saying, “I think that would be my decision!”

These are the unexpected things that, with hindsight, add a bit of spice and are remembered with a smile. I’m sure there are plenty more such moments ahead– bring them on!

Beam me over Scottie!

Jack’s weekly guest blog

Here I go again, a Scots-born American by choice, off to visit the Old Country for a month.

Regular readers will know that I came to live in the US some 11 years past and became a citizen in May 2012. Over here everyone thinks of me as a ‘Furriner’ with an accent so strange I’d have needed an interpreter had my bid for Town Council been successful- not that anyone here has an accent ;0). They also tell odd stories about me not saying the Pledge of Allegiance.

And yet, annually as I go over to my country of birth every year to conduct a small group of folk around Scotland, things have shifted more with each passing year. When I first started doing the tours it definitely felt like going ‘home’ but now it’s much more equivocal – where exactly is ‘home’?

ginnie 2Here in Big Stone Gap I now feel very much at home, and comfortable. The surrounding hills (they call them mountains here, sweet people) remind me of Scotland and the locals have so much Scots blood in their veins that I have no difficulty relating to them. Indeed, these American friends have become the foundation of my life now!

And yet – when I do go back to Scotia/Caledonia/Alba/Scotland/Ecosse it’s rather like boarding a time machine, as I consciously re-calibrate my vocabulary and grammar now that I understand (most of) the differences between American English, British English, and Scots.

So I’m beginning to think, now, of what it is that might actually feel like home to me? Is it a place that shares my politics? Ha! None do. Culture? But I like everybody’s music, dancing and food. It’s not religion, if  ‘good Christian values’ are defended by lying about others – oh no, thank you. I’m tempted to say that living rural does it, but I have very good friends and some truly great memories tucked away in cities.

So, what?

Maybe it’s a combination of the world being a much more connected place now, and me getting older (and wiser?). What got me on this track was a conversation Wendy and I had last night. She will join me in Scotland for a week after this year’s tour finishes and we were talking about old friends we’d want to visit. I found myself looking at this through her eyes and thinking, “Does she feel at home in both places, Scotland and here? Or does  she think of going back to Scotland as a holiday, rather than revisiting our first home?”

So I asked her, and she gave me an enigmatic look. “You’re asking where home is? Honey, human hearts don’t beat with accents. Home is you and me, together.”

Well, yes.WENDY&CAT2