Under Fire
This is the soundtrack of this trip.
Jack’s falsetto voice resonated as he burst through my bedroom door:
– I’ve been waitiiiing! For you toooo get up!
There was a 0% chance of falling asleep after that, followed by a 100% chance of throwing insults back at his face.
On today’s agenda: Stirling Castle. The seat of many Scottish kings and queens, such as James V and Mary, Queen of Scots, as well as the centerpiece of many a siege in the 13th and 14th centuries by William Wallace and Robert the Bruce, the castle is a formidable landmark I’ve been wanting to visit for years. No small part due to this gem of a game that fundamentally shaped my understanding of history and of the English language in general:
Who could forget that first time we heard the term “Dark Ages” and wondered what it meant? The weather agreed with us as well, but not without some hair-rousing gusts of wind.
We saw the various rooms, armories, kitchens and grounds that made up the entire castle, all the while LARPing as much as possible.
In between the corridors, passageways and alleyways, we entertained ourselves with old stories from our childhoods in the form of 80’s and 90’s references, and through cringey one-liners that only we could come up with. A typical example:
– Woah, watch your head, this ceiling is low.
– You’re low.
Cue dumb laugh and eyerolls.
In any event, the entire Stirling experience was phenomenal, not to mention its surrounding town. The small Church of the Holy Rude nearby was small and cute, and its cemetery just creepy enough:
– Hey don’t walk on the graves, tabarnak, it’s disrespectful!
– I’ll walk on your grave!
Cue dumb laughs and collective eyerolls.
We made our way back to Edinburgh around 5pm, and split up quickly for some last minute shopping and sightseeing. Jill wanted to buy a female kilt (apparently called skirts – I’ve never heard that term before), while Jack, Jim and I spun around the winding streets to find the Dean Village. This calm collection of streets dancing around the Water of Leith was a perfect ending to our nature-filled adventure.
Our day ended with the perfect movie to cap off our trek into military history, but instead of Mel Gibson yelling at the top of his lungs in Braveheart, we had Gene Hackman punching the hell out of Denzel Washington in Crimson Tide.
What a badass.