We started the day at a Green Welly shop (Scotland’s answer to Buc-ee’s). We pulled in at 10 and out at 11:30, the van groaning under the weight of the adorable artwork, children’s games, jewelry, and gin miniatures that place sells. In all fairness, the Green Wellies sell good stuff made in Scotland for the most part. Serena bought everyone a sweet chocolate animal. (I got the pig. Jack got the monkey.)

The shop got its name because it had a boot garden, a literal collection of planted wellington boots, but those had been removed to increase parking. So the boots got the boot.

The shopping bug taken care of, we did Killin, which is a picturesque village that exists because it has a gorgeous set of slow rapids with an old stone bridge over it, and public toilets. Harry and Andrea got me to take their picture with the rapids behind them, but just as they posed on one side of the one-lane stone bridge, a massive bus came through. I thought Harry was going to have to make a dive for it but the driver blew past with inches to spare.

In the picture, I think Andrea’s smile looks the wee bit relieved.

Then off to one of my favorite stops on our annual tours, the ancient yew tree at Fortingall. The male yew tree (with a branch that changed sex to bear berries) is believed to be at least 5000 years old, and the town is the alleged birthplace of Pontius Pilate (whose father must have done somthing that really pissed the Roman emperor off, to get posted to Caledonia back then). It’s always meaningful to touch the tree and think about all that it stood witness to, and then to think about Pilate as a kid, when the tree was already 2000 years old, maybe playing in its branches.

We were headed to grab lunch in Kenmore when Gareth shrieked “Coos!” A herd of highland cows romped in a pasture alongside the road. Another car was stopped and the coos were willingly posing for photographs—including two shaggy wee calves.

The group took photo after photo, and as I stood enjoying the site, one of the women from the car said to me with a smile, “Aren’t they gorgeous? Aren’t we lucky to get to see them?”

And she was right. It was a beautiful sunshiny day and the cows were happy and so were the people and all was right with the world.

Especially as we got to add a sudden attraction to the day: Menzies Castle. (Pronounced Mingus, and it would take a long time to explain why so here’s a link for later: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4CtWyh49Mms) Menzie’s was more of a fortified house, really, but Maria was longing to see the inside of one and it was on our way to Pitlochry, so we made an unscheduled stop. In the end only Maria and Andrea wanted to go in, but the rest of us were well content to explore the surrounding landscape. And of course, Cassidy found a horse and two barn cats to play with….

Andrea filled us in later on the house history; those poor guys had the Stuarts (as in Bonnie Prince Charlie’s family) on one side, and there would be no pleasing them. They lost the house in a feud, eventually. You can read about it here: https://www.castlemenzies.org/

Sated with our day out in the sun and all the cows and such, we headed into Pitlochry….

—-to be greeted by the surliest innkeeper of the whole trip.

“Well this is a fine time to be coming in,” she said of our 5:30 arrival. “We’re trying to get suppers on.”

Fiona said, sotto voice, “Is anyone else thinking of Fawlty Towers just now?” I choked back laughter, got the keys and went to check the rooms because Ms. Personality had also said she had no information about who was a couple and who needed twin beds. Everything was okay except Cassidy and Maria, who had a double room, so we swapped it for ours, which had twin beds that could be pushed apart. Then I opened the door of room ten, for Andrea and Harry…

—and my face about melted off. It felt like breathing oven air. I slammed the door and raced downstairs, where Madam was pouring drinks in the pub. (To be fair, I think she was doing most of everything at that place.)

“Excuse me,” I said. “There’s a problem with room ten.”

“I can’t come right now.” She snapped back.

Ho boy…..

I got Andrea and Harry seated in the lounge and found a harried looking server from the bar who went with me to find out what was up. Turns out someone had put all the heaters on high and taken off maybe two or three days ago–which makes me think maybe they’d fired a maid recently and she had a hefty sense of humor. Not to mention revenge.

All the doors and windows open helped, but Andrea said later when she opened a drawer, heat radiated up from the wood. So that was fun.

But it was one of the best meals we’d had in awhile, most everyone ordering the venison pie, and the first time Scotland’s famous cheeses appeared on the dessert menu! Tomorrow there would be a lovely walk along the Tay with our friend Pete the fiddler, after a distillery tour—which made Harry’s face light up. So we all laughed about the surly hotel mistress and the Hotter-than-Hades room, and Jack and I planned to sit up a little later that night in the cheerful beer garden—until we found out the ice machine was broken and they were serving the gin warm. Never mind, time for bed.

I almost forgot: We got to photograph Scotland’s most famous town sign as we drove past. Twinned with Boring, Oregon.