My final day in Scotland was spent exploring all of the villages surrounding Melrose in search of graves of my Hart and Vair ancestors. It remains inexplicable to me why we could not find any graves beyond those located on the grounds of Melrose Abbey. Were our ancestors too poor to buy headstones? Had the graves been lost to time or reused for more recent burials? We scarcely found any gravestones older than 19th century.
While we know that Betty Vair’s husband George Hart was a gardener in Melrose, we do not know if he was working at the Abbey or elsewhere. And while there are several Harts buried in the abbey grounds – we never found George Hart who we know died prior to 1841. Just how did Betty Vair Hart support herself prior to emigrating in 1848? Did she move to Selkirk where they met John Grieve or was she being supported by Vair or Hart relatives? It’s a mystery and likely will remain as one. It’s fun to speculate, however.I hope to return to Scotland in the near future to explore the lands further north. Keith’s ancestors lived on the island of Mull on the northwest coast of Scotland and are a noted highland clan. His clan has two divisions descending from two brothers and the clan was reputed to be filled with fierce warriors. The name is spelled either MacLean or MacLaine depending on which brother descent came from. By comparison, my Nisbets, Harts, Vairs and related families, Hatton/Hutton, Tait, and Hunter were all peoples of the lowlands.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Summer Vacation - Day 10
Very Hot! Record temperatures in Scotland and everyone talks of nothing else! We traveled to Edinburgh today to tour Edinburgh Castle. We did not realize that Queen Elizabeth was in town today to address the Scottish Parliament so our trip was cut short. We visited the impressive Edinburgh Castle which is built high up on a craig of volcanic rock and historically a military stronghold for that reason. Mary, Queen of Scots, chose it as the location to give birth to the future heir to the Scottish throne instead of the more comfortable Holyrood Palace (where the Queen Elizabeth II was currently in residence) after the murder of her Italian secretary (and favorite courtier) Rizzio in her presence just weeks before. The highlight of the tour was seeing the tiny room – no more than a closet really – where she gave birth. I reasoned that the woman must have been feeling very threatened and insecure to subject herself to labor and delivery in that claustrophobic space!
After leaving the castle, we walked a short distance down “The Royal Mile” and went inside St. Giles cathedral where I happened upon a stained glass window emblazoned with the McClain coat of arms. In the courtyard of the cathedral was an enormous statue of one of the Dukes of Bucclegh – the owner of BowHill and Carterhough Farm where our ancestor James Vair was head gardener at one time. Certainly our ancestor must have been proud to work for such an illustrious man.
On our way back to Melrose, we stopped for lunch at a very nice inn just outside of Peebles. I ordered a penne pasta dish which arrived at the table covered with a sauce in the most unusual and unappetizing shade of green. I was too hungry not to eat it. The taste was not bad but for the life of me I could not figure out what ingredient was used to make to that particular shade of green and did not have the courage to ask the waiter!
After lunch, we spent the afternoon touring Traquair House, the oldest existing private residence in Scotland continuously inhabited by one family – a branch of the Stewarts – which is of course, the royal family of Scotland. The royal family did not run directly through their line…they were an offshoot and contained a man who served as royal steward to Mary, Queen of Scots and actually helped her escape assassination when her secretary Rizzio was so brutally murdered in her presence. Mary rewarded his loyalty with an extended visit at the house with her disgraced husband Lord Darnley and infant son in tow.
The house dates back to the 13th century with additions in the 15th and 16th centuries and is still occupied as a home by the current heiress, her husband and 2 young children. What made the house so interesting was an astounding collection of historical artifacts the family has collected over the centuries which are on display for visitors. The family also has a working brewery on site and we were treated to samples for tasting. In the back of the grounds, a branch of the River Tweed runs alongside which grows a grove of 1000 year old Yew trees. It was like walking in an enchanted forest – quite spectacular. It was quite daunting to contemplate the age of those magnificent trees while considering all the events in human history which have occurred during their existence.
After leaving the castle, we walked a short distance down “The Royal Mile” and went inside St. Giles cathedral where I happened upon a stained glass window emblazoned with the McClain coat of arms. In the courtyard of the cathedral was an enormous statue of one of the Dukes of Bucclegh – the owner of BowHill and Carterhough Farm where our ancestor James Vair was head gardener at one time. Certainly our ancestor must have been proud to work for such an illustrious man.
On our way back to Melrose, we stopped for lunch at a very nice inn just outside of Peebles. I ordered a penne pasta dish which arrived at the table covered with a sauce in the most unusual and unappetizing shade of green. I was too hungry not to eat it. The taste was not bad but for the life of me I could not figure out what ingredient was used to make to that particular shade of green and did not have the courage to ask the waiter!
After lunch, we spent the afternoon touring Traquair House, the oldest existing private residence in Scotland continuously inhabited by one family – a branch of the Stewarts – which is of course, the royal family of Scotland. The royal family did not run directly through their line…they were an offshoot and contained a man who served as royal steward to Mary, Queen of Scots and actually helped her escape assassination when her secretary Rizzio was so brutally murdered in her presence. Mary rewarded his loyalty with an extended visit at the house with her disgraced husband Lord Darnley and infant son in tow.
The house dates back to the 13th century with additions in the 15th and 16th centuries and is still occupied as a home by the current heiress, her husband and 2 young children. What made the house so interesting was an astounding collection of historical artifacts the family has collected over the centuries which are on display for visitors. The family also has a working brewery on site and we were treated to samples for tasting. In the back of the grounds, a branch of the River Tweed runs alongside which grows a grove of 1000 year old Yew trees. It was like walking in an enchanted forest – quite spectacular. It was quite daunting to contemplate the age of those magnificent trees while considering all the events in human history which have occurred during their existence.
Summer Vacation - Day 9
We traveled to Selkirk today with the purpose of exploring the textile mill sites. During our prior research day in Hawick, I had focused my research on a man named John Grieve who had emigrated, along with his widowed mother and younger sister, on the same ship as the widowed Betty Vair Hart and her children. This John Grieve had later married our ancestress Eliza Hart’s older sister and upon her death married a second sister! I located him and his mother and sister living in Selkirk in the 1841 census on Dunsdale road and previously located biographical data had told that he went to work in the mills at age 10. He was in his teens during the 1841 census, was listed as a weaver and I located the names of 3 separate mills on Dunsdale Road – surely he had worked at one or perhaps all of them in turn prior to emigrating to Boston.
Most of the mills along Dunsdale road had long since been demolished but we found Ettrick Mill to still be standing and they had several old engravings in their public office of what the mills along Dunsdale road used to look like. As my Whittaker ancestors were also textile mill workers – albeit in Lancashire, England – I was much interested in exploring what I could.
From Selkirk, we returned to Carterhough Farm to take pictures as my camera batteries had died the day before and I did not have extras with me. (Stupid!) We returned to Melrose by noon as Dale had an appointment at the Masonic Lodge to look through their old records. I begged off and spent the afternoon by myself exploring Melrose on my own.
Most of the mills along Dunsdale road had long since been demolished but we found Ettrick Mill to still be standing and they had several old engravings in their public office of what the mills along Dunsdale road used to look like. As my Whittaker ancestors were also textile mill workers – albeit in Lancashire, England – I was much interested in exploring what I could.
From Selkirk, we returned to Carterhough Farm to take pictures as my camera batteries had died the day before and I did not have extras with me. (Stupid!) We returned to Melrose by noon as Dale had an appointment at the Masonic Lodge to look through their old records. I begged off and spent the afternoon by myself exploring Melrose on my own.
Summer Vacation - Day 8
Today was devoted to the Nisbet Family and our first stop was the town of Biggar hoping to meet with Brian Lambie, the local expert at the Albion archives. Unfortunately, Mr. Lambie was out of town and visual inspection of the archive itself quickly revealed that any time spent within would have been fruitless as it was a jumble of filing cabinets and storage boxes without any clear guide to navigate their contents. The elderly woman on duty clearly could not help us so we quickly departed.
We headed to the village of Culter [or Coulter] (pronounced Cooter) and a mile or so out of town arrived at Nisbet Farm, ancestral home of the Laird Bertram. The laird was not at home but we had tea with the laird’s wife (she insisted) and we were treated to a demonstration of sheep shearing.
The farmhouse known as Coulter-Shaw was visible across the pasture and we obtained permission to explore from the laird’s wife as the present owner was not home. Our emigrating Nisbet ancestor, Robert Nisbet, was born and raised there according to his own admission [info found in historical biographical data published in the States]. We climbed over the locked gate and spent a very pleasant hour exploring. An old stone barn lay perpendicular to the main house and a trap door was located partially covered by grass in the front yard. I persuaded Dale to lift the door so we could see what lay below – and were rewarded by his effort. The trap door opened up to a underground root cellar (?) which was a remarkable 2 stories deep! As we had no flashlight to illuminate the darkness, I laid down on my belly in the tall grass and lowered my camera into the darkness to take pictures. The pictures revealed an interesting space – quite deep and long – with a vaulted roof.
Dale and I returned to Culter for lunch at the old Culter Mill and explored the town Kirk (what the Scottish call their churches) looking for Nisbet grave stones. Our cousin, Jim Gilchrist, had completed a detailed search of the gravestones years earlier, failing to locate any Nisbets and we were equally as unlucky. We did find a couple of gravestones for later residents of the Coulter-Shaw Farm: The surname White in 1855/1865 and the surname Somerville in 1895. As our ancestor, Robert Nisbet, emigrated in 1765, they were of no real interest and provided no clues as what happened to our Nisbet family of Coulter-Shaw Farm. Did the family support the Stewart rising in 1745? [Robert Nisbet was born in 1744.] Had the family been displaced during the Lowland Clearances in 1760? We have no way of knowing why Robert Nisbet emigrated to America as an indentured servant. Surely the land could provide a living – as a tenant of the Bertram lairds of Nisbet Farm. Did young Robert get into some kind of trouble and was force to emigrate as an indentured servant as was often the punishment of criminals during that period? We do know that he became a Quaker minister after serving his period of indenture – so did he emigrate for religious or political reasons? Unfortunately his reasons are not to be located in the historical record. We will probably never know and speculation will have to satisfy us.
After a complete inspection of the Culter Kirkyard, Dale suggested we drive over to the ruins of the Kilbucho church. Here I was treated to another adventure in genealogical trespass! The location of Kilbucho church is quite remote and I marveled that Dale had even managed to locate it on his previous exploration of the area. We had to open a closed gate and then climb over a locked gate to gain entry into a private, secluded residence to get to the ruins. This time it was not my father-in-law’s reluctance of trepass I was hearing but the words of my husband who had wisely but jokenly instructed me before I left for Scotland…”Stay out of trouble and please, don’t end up in jail!” I imagined that he would not be too sympathetic or pleased to have to wire be money to make bail!
Dale was not deterred, however, but he did knock on the door at the main house. No cars were in the yard so we walked through their private garden to get to the church. An interesting site and its proximity down the valley from Coulter-Shaw did raise the possibility that our ancestors had frequented this rustic little church. The churchyard was overgrown with summer vegetation and while we able to locate only a couple grave markers, it was obvious that there were probably plenty more hidden beneath the tall grass.
From Kilbucho were traveled to BowHill – the immense estate of the Dukes of Bucclegh – where were knew that James Vair, the gardener of Greenwells and father of our ancestress Betty Vair Hart, had lived and worked. The farmhouse and residence of the chief gardener, James Vair, was called Carterhough, and still existed. We knew roughly the timeframe of the family’s existence there based upon christening records of his children and with the help of estate information were able to connect the Vair employment with a period of expansion of the Bowhill estate at the turn of the 19th century. Unfortunately, a fire at the farm office had destroyed most of the records so it was another dead end in our search for documentary evidence of the family. Carterhough has a delightful walled garden which we sneaked a peak at – and I thought: “what a lovely place for our ancestress to play in with her brothers and sisters”. Shades of the literary classic “The Secret Garden” – one of my favorite books.
We headed to the village of Culter [or Coulter] (pronounced Cooter) and a mile or so out of town arrived at Nisbet Farm, ancestral home of the Laird Bertram. The laird was not at home but we had tea with the laird’s wife (she insisted) and we were treated to a demonstration of sheep shearing.
The farmhouse known as Coulter-Shaw was visible across the pasture and we obtained permission to explore from the laird’s wife as the present owner was not home. Our emigrating Nisbet ancestor, Robert Nisbet, was born and raised there according to his own admission [info found in historical biographical data published in the States]. We climbed over the locked gate and spent a very pleasant hour exploring. An old stone barn lay perpendicular to the main house and a trap door was located partially covered by grass in the front yard. I persuaded Dale to lift the door so we could see what lay below – and were rewarded by his effort. The trap door opened up to a underground root cellar (?) which was a remarkable 2 stories deep! As we had no flashlight to illuminate the darkness, I laid down on my belly in the tall grass and lowered my camera into the darkness to take pictures. The pictures revealed an interesting space – quite deep and long – with a vaulted roof.
Dale and I returned to Culter for lunch at the old Culter Mill and explored the town Kirk (what the Scottish call their churches) looking for Nisbet grave stones. Our cousin, Jim Gilchrist, had completed a detailed search of the gravestones years earlier, failing to locate any Nisbets and we were equally as unlucky. We did find a couple of gravestones for later residents of the Coulter-Shaw Farm: The surname White in 1855/1865 and the surname Somerville in 1895. As our ancestor, Robert Nisbet, emigrated in 1765, they were of no real interest and provided no clues as what happened to our Nisbet family of Coulter-Shaw Farm. Did the family support the Stewart rising in 1745? [Robert Nisbet was born in 1744.] Had the family been displaced during the Lowland Clearances in 1760? We have no way of knowing why Robert Nisbet emigrated to America as an indentured servant. Surely the land could provide a living – as a tenant of the Bertram lairds of Nisbet Farm. Did young Robert get into some kind of trouble and was force to emigrate as an indentured servant as was often the punishment of criminals during that period? We do know that he became a Quaker minister after serving his period of indenture – so did he emigrate for religious or political reasons? Unfortunately his reasons are not to be located in the historical record. We will probably never know and speculation will have to satisfy us.
After a complete inspection of the Culter Kirkyard, Dale suggested we drive over to the ruins of the Kilbucho church. Here I was treated to another adventure in genealogical trespass! The location of Kilbucho church is quite remote and I marveled that Dale had even managed to locate it on his previous exploration of the area. We had to open a closed gate and then climb over a locked gate to gain entry into a private, secluded residence to get to the ruins. This time it was not my father-in-law’s reluctance of trepass I was hearing but the words of my husband who had wisely but jokenly instructed me before I left for Scotland…”Stay out of trouble and please, don’t end up in jail!” I imagined that he would not be too sympathetic or pleased to have to wire be money to make bail!
Dale was not deterred, however, but he did knock on the door at the main house. No cars were in the yard so we walked through their private garden to get to the church. An interesting site and its proximity down the valley from Coulter-Shaw did raise the possibility that our ancestors had frequented this rustic little church. The churchyard was overgrown with summer vegetation and while we able to locate only a couple grave markers, it was obvious that there were probably plenty more hidden beneath the tall grass.
From Kilbucho were traveled to BowHill – the immense estate of the Dukes of Bucclegh – where were knew that James Vair, the gardener of Greenwells and father of our ancestress Betty Vair Hart, had lived and worked. The farmhouse and residence of the chief gardener, James Vair, was called Carterhough, and still existed. We knew roughly the timeframe of the family’s existence there based upon christening records of his children and with the help of estate information were able to connect the Vair employment with a period of expansion of the Bowhill estate at the turn of the 19th century. Unfortunately, a fire at the farm office had destroyed most of the records so it was another dead end in our search for documentary evidence of the family. Carterhough has a delightful walled garden which we sneaked a peak at – and I thought: “what a lovely place for our ancestress to play in with her brothers and sisters”. Shades of the literary classic “The Secret Garden” – one of my favorite books.
Summer Vacation - Day 7
We set off to the city of Stirling today to visit Stirling Castle – the favorite residence of the kings of Scotland. The city had a distinctive medieval feel to it and I mentally marked it as a place to return to one day for further exploration. The castle was small but boasted an impressive Great Hall with a restored hammer beam ceiling. Unfortunately the building which contained the royal apartments was closed for renovations but the chapel where the infant James, (later to become King James I of England upon the death of Queen Elizabeth I), son of Mary Queen of Scots and Lord Darnley was formally invested as King James VI of Scotland when his mother was forced to abdicate by the Protestant barons who held the real power during her time attempting to rule as a Catholic monarch.
The most enjoyable part of our visit was the tour of Argylle House which was down at the bottom of the hill from the castle. Our tour guide was a jolly and very interesting man who surprisingly encouraged the tourists to touch and handle any and all of the artifacts within the house – even insisting that we take turns lying down on the very bed of the Earl of Argylle. This type of behavior would have been notably discouraged in the royal houses of Europe but it really enhanced the visit.
"Standing almost opposite Stirling Castle, Argyll’s Lodging dates from a period when living as close to the monarch as possible increased your social status.
Originally a two-storey, mid-16th‑century tower house, the building’s stately appearance today is the result of work by Sir William Alexander – Charles I’s secretary for Scotland – and Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argyll. Anticipating the King’s visit to Scotland for his coronation, Alexander expanded the house in 1630 and was made earl of Stirling for his efforts. It was bought by Argyll in the 1660s and enlarged again with many of the rooms and furnishings visible today dating from then.
The ground floor comprises a relatively spartan set of rooms, primarily used by servants and where visitors would have waited to ascend the magnificent staircase when visiting the Earl. Upstairs the high dining room is entered by a door with the initials AA above it (for Archibald and his second wife Anna) and still has some of the original painted columns on the walls, dating from 1675.
Beyond lies the drawing room, lady’s closet and the bedchamber, done out in sumptuous purple and where the Earl and his wife would have received special guests. The house remained a family home until around 1800 when it became a military hospital. Historic Scotland took over the building in 1996 and has since restored much of its splendour.
Don’t miss: The en-suite toilet with padded seat just off the bedchamber."
http://www.bbchistorymagazine.com/visit/argylls-lodging-stirling
On our return to Melrose, we detoured to visit the farm of Greenwells where our ancestor James Vair had worked as a gardener. Upon our arrival, my first instinct was to knock on the front door and offer explanation of our intent and obtain permission to wander around. Cousin Dale obviously saw no need for such a courtesy despite my protestations of trespass – my West Virginian father-in-law’s reluctance of trespass kept ringing in my head and thankfully the woman of Greenwells noted our presence and came out to discover our intent. Phew…what a relief as I was very uncomfortable trespassing!
While the stone residence of Greenwells was most likely not the building where our ancestors lived, we did locate a rather old building which Dale promptly assumed was where our gardener ancestors resided. I hated to burst his enthusiastic presumptions, but there was no evidence of a hearth or chimney in the structure. It was obviously quite old but it appeared to me to be a barn – not a house! I kept my observations to myself so as not to spoil Dale’s sense of discovery!
The most enjoyable part of our visit was the tour of Argylle House which was down at the bottom of the hill from the castle. Our tour guide was a jolly and very interesting man who surprisingly encouraged the tourists to touch and handle any and all of the artifacts within the house – even insisting that we take turns lying down on the very bed of the Earl of Argylle. This type of behavior would have been notably discouraged in the royal houses of Europe but it really enhanced the visit.
"Standing almost opposite Stirling Castle, Argyll’s Lodging dates from a period when living as close to the monarch as possible increased your social status.
Originally a two-storey, mid-16th‑century tower house, the building’s stately appearance today is the result of work by Sir William Alexander – Charles I’s secretary for Scotland – and Archibald Campbell, Earl of Argyll. Anticipating the King’s visit to Scotland for his coronation, Alexander expanded the house in 1630 and was made earl of Stirling for his efforts. It was bought by Argyll in the 1660s and enlarged again with many of the rooms and furnishings visible today dating from then.
The ground floor comprises a relatively spartan set of rooms, primarily used by servants and where visitors would have waited to ascend the magnificent staircase when visiting the Earl. Upstairs the high dining room is entered by a door with the initials AA above it (for Archibald and his second wife Anna) and still has some of the original painted columns on the walls, dating from 1675.
Beyond lies the drawing room, lady’s closet and the bedchamber, done out in sumptuous purple and where the Earl and his wife would have received special guests. The house remained a family home until around 1800 when it became a military hospital. Historic Scotland took over the building in 1996 and has since restored much of its splendour.
Don’t miss: The en-suite toilet with padded seat just off the bedchamber."
http://www.bbchistorymagazine.com/visit/argylls-lodging-stirling
On our return to Melrose, we detoured to visit the farm of Greenwells where our ancestor James Vair had worked as a gardener. Upon our arrival, my first instinct was to knock on the front door and offer explanation of our intent and obtain permission to wander around. Cousin Dale obviously saw no need for such a courtesy despite my protestations of trespass – my West Virginian father-in-law’s reluctance of trespass kept ringing in my head and thankfully the woman of Greenwells noted our presence and came out to discover our intent. Phew…what a relief as I was very uncomfortable trespassing!
While the stone residence of Greenwells was most likely not the building where our ancestors lived, we did locate a rather old building which Dale promptly assumed was where our gardener ancestors resided. I hated to burst his enthusiastic presumptions, but there was no evidence of a hearth or chimney in the structure. It was obviously quite old but it appeared to me to be a barn – not a house! I kept my observations to myself so as not to spoil Dale’s sense of discovery!
Summer Vacation - Day 6
Saturday was spend in the national genealogical archive at Hawick (pronounced Hoik) looking for dead ancestors. The bulk of their collection was the 1841 Scottish census and various parish registers – all of which can be obtained on the Internet. I did not travel thousands of miles to be cooped up inside a library so I made various excursions outside to explore the town while Dale was glued to a microfiche reader.
I enjoy taking a back door approach to genealogy because often the most fun can be discovering a hidden gem. I also find the relentless pursuit of names and dates in civil records to be quite tedious even though they are necessary and extremely helpful when searching for dead relatives. I would much rather explore the historical data and physical remains of eras which preceded the modern day – so I explored the town and church yard striving to immerse myself in culture instead of sterile, colorless records.
After a full day – leaving only when the archive closed at 5pm, Dale and I returned to Melrose and after a dinner at a local pub/inn, we took a walk around Melrose to walk off the food.
It stays light until after 11pm and not fully dark until midnight. By 4:30am, the daylight dawns which must be why I awoke every morning at that time. So our second evening in Melrose, we walked until after 10pm exploring the River Tweed which runs alongside the village. The village itself is rather small and its main attraction is the ruins of Melrose Abbey. The village is surrounded by hills and farmland – the most striking geographical features are the River Tweed and nearby Eildon Hills, the site of an ancient Roman occupation. A suspension bridge, built in 1826, connects Melrose to the very small village of Gattonside. Before the bridge was built, the citizens would often cross the river on stilts which were kept on each side of the river.
I enjoy taking a back door approach to genealogy because often the most fun can be discovering a hidden gem. I also find the relentless pursuit of names and dates in civil records to be quite tedious even though they are necessary and extremely helpful when searching for dead relatives. I would much rather explore the historical data and physical remains of eras which preceded the modern day – so I explored the town and church yard striving to immerse myself in culture instead of sterile, colorless records.
After a full day – leaving only when the archive closed at 5pm, Dale and I returned to Melrose and after a dinner at a local pub/inn, we took a walk around Melrose to walk off the food.
It stays light until after 11pm and not fully dark until midnight. By 4:30am, the daylight dawns which must be why I awoke every morning at that time. So our second evening in Melrose, we walked until after 10pm exploring the River Tweed which runs alongside the village. The village itself is rather small and its main attraction is the ruins of Melrose Abbey. The village is surrounded by hills and farmland – the most striking geographical features are the River Tweed and nearby Eildon Hills, the site of an ancient Roman occupation. A suspension bridge, built in 1826, connects Melrose to the very small village of Gattonside. Before the bridge was built, the citizens would often cross the river on stilts which were kept on each side of the river.
Summer Vacation - Day 5
It is Friday and time to leave York and head for Berwick-upon-Tweed via train to meet up with Dale. I took an earlier train than I had originally planned with the intention of a bit of exploration of that town before Dale arrived to collect me.
The train ride was uneventful until a group of twenty-something aged girls got on board about half-way to Berwick. It became obvious that they were celebrating the 21st birthday of one of their group as she donned a sash and tiara as soon as the train departed the station. Bottles of wine were opened and poured into plastic glasses with fancy straws accompanied by much girlish laughter. I was reminded of the stories Alicia told me of her and her friends’ celebrations of their 21st. It seems that girls are the same everywhere!
I arrived at Berwick-upon-Tweed about 10:30 am and as Dale was not expecting me until about 12:30, I felt comfortable exploring the area around the station. Berwick-upon-Tweed is a coastal town and the views from the nearby park of the castle ruins were spectacular. I returned to the station before noon – just in case Dale arrived early. I need not have been so concerned. When he did not arrive by 12:30, I called the owner of the B & B in Melrose whose phone number I luckily had with me. It seems that Dale had not read my email closely enough and had no idea what time my train was arriving! It’s a good thing I called or I would have been left waiting indefinitely! I was informed that the journey from Melrose would take an hour and 15 minutes, I headed into town in search of food, my little suitcase on wheels bumping along behind me on the cobble stoned walkway. When I returned to the station an hour later, Dale was there waiting on me. When I expressed surprise that he had made the trip so quickly, Dale said “Kenny doesn’t know how I drive.” Hmmmm….that detail was proven as the week progressed!
We interrupted our journey to Melrose with a quick visit to GreenKnowe Tower built in 1581 and used as a residence until 1850. We climbed the spiral stone staircase – which was quite dark and narrow – as high as we could go. The floors of the various levels were long gone but one could visually separate the various levels from the locations of the fireplaces still existing in the walls. My first reaction was of the definite need for chamber pots! I would not have liked to have to descend the stairs at night to answer nature’s call. I also envisioned being in the latter stages of pregnancy trying to get up and down those stairs in the dead of winter. Hmmmm…I think 1st floor accommodations would be desired in that case!
The train ride was uneventful until a group of twenty-something aged girls got on board about half-way to Berwick. It became obvious that they were celebrating the 21st birthday of one of their group as she donned a sash and tiara as soon as the train departed the station. Bottles of wine were opened and poured into plastic glasses with fancy straws accompanied by much girlish laughter. I was reminded of the stories Alicia told me of her and her friends’ celebrations of their 21st. It seems that girls are the same everywhere!
I arrived at Berwick-upon-Tweed about 10:30 am and as Dale was not expecting me until about 12:30, I felt comfortable exploring the area around the station. Berwick-upon-Tweed is a coastal town and the views from the nearby park of the castle ruins were spectacular. I returned to the station before noon – just in case Dale arrived early. I need not have been so concerned. When he did not arrive by 12:30, I called the owner of the B & B in Melrose whose phone number I luckily had with me. It seems that Dale had not read my email closely enough and had no idea what time my train was arriving! It’s a good thing I called or I would have been left waiting indefinitely! I was informed that the journey from Melrose would take an hour and 15 minutes, I headed into town in search of food, my little suitcase on wheels bumping along behind me on the cobble stoned walkway. When I returned to the station an hour later, Dale was there waiting on me. When I expressed surprise that he had made the trip so quickly, Dale said “Kenny doesn’t know how I drive.” Hmmmm….that detail was proven as the week progressed!
We interrupted our journey to Melrose with a quick visit to GreenKnowe Tower built in 1581 and used as a residence until 1850. We climbed the spiral stone staircase – which was quite dark and narrow – as high as we could go. The floors of the various levels were long gone but one could visually separate the various levels from the locations of the fireplaces still existing in the walls. My first reaction was of the definite need for chamber pots! I would not have liked to have to descend the stairs at night to answer nature’s call. I also envisioned being in the latter stages of pregnancy trying to get up and down those stairs in the dead of winter. Hmmmm…I think 1st floor accommodations would be desired in that case!
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Summer Vacation - Day 4
A full day was planned for this day – starting with the Richard III museum located in Monks Bar – another of the stone gatehouses along the city wall. This museum was even tackier than the one at Micklegate Bar and I was severely disappointed. I had envisioned an intellectually serious, historically rich and technologically interactive experience based upon the website I had found. The reality was just the opposite. I bought a poster of Richard III at their little gift shop to display in my classroom.
I do not get the opportunity to teach any English History in my 7th and 8th grade curriculum but am hoping to take advantage of any teachable moment its presence will provoke. I’m sure to 
get at least the question, “Who is that?” which will give me the opportunity to briefly indulge in my passion for British history!
After a lunch of steak and ale pie [delicious!] at a nearby pub, I set out for York Minster. As luck would have it, I was just in time to join a free tour of the Minster which was absolutely delightful. The tour guide was a gentleman in his 70s named Graeme who was extremely well versed in the history of the building. Aunt Janet and I had previously visited the Minster but once again, time constraints had prevented me from fully exploring the site. Graeme’s tour lasted well over an hour, much to my delight, and was thoroughly satisfying. At the end of the tour, I asked to be directed to the stained glass window commissioned by King Richard III in honor of the death of his son and heir. Graeme did not know its location but promptly went in search of the information. The window was located and I was happy.
I left the Minster and went in search of Bootham Bar, another of the ancient entryways into the city. I knew it to be near the Minster and found it with little difficulty. I continued my walk through the city towards Clifford’s Tower,
the only structure which remained of York Castle. I declined to climb the hill and pay the steep admission fee so view an empty stone fortification so I wandered over to the York Castle museum. By this time it was after 5pm and the museum was closed. I was disappointed as it looked to be a substantial building which probably would have been much more satisfying than yesterday’s Yorkshire museum. Thwarted, I walked back across the length of the city to return to the Inn in search of supper and some much needed rest.
I do not get the opportunity to teach any English History in my 7th and 8th grade curriculum but am hoping to take advantage of any teachable moment its presence will provoke. I’m sure to 
get at least the question, “Who is that?” which will give me the opportunity to briefly indulge in my passion for British history!After a lunch of steak and ale pie [delicious!] at a nearby pub, I set out for York Minster. As luck would have it, I was just in time to join a free tour of the Minster which was absolutely delightful. The tour guide was a gentleman in his 70s named Graeme who was extremely well versed in the history of the building. Aunt Janet and I had previously visited the Minster but once again, time constraints had prevented me from fully exploring the site. Graeme’s tour lasted well over an hour, much to my delight, and was thoroughly satisfying. At the end of the tour, I asked to be directed to the stained glass window commissioned by King Richard III in honor of the death of his son and heir. Graeme did not know its location but promptly went in search of the information. The window was located and I was happy.
I left the Minster and went in search of Bootham Bar, another of the ancient entryways into the city. I knew it to be near the Minster and found it with little difficulty. I continued my walk through the city towards Clifford’s Tower,
the only structure which remained of York Castle. I declined to climb the hill and pay the steep admission fee so view an empty stone fortification so I wandered over to the York Castle museum. By this time it was after 5pm and the museum was closed. I was disappointed as it looked to be a substantial building which probably would have been much more satisfying than yesterday’s Yorkshire museum. Thwarted, I walked back across the length of the city to return to the Inn in search of supper and some much needed rest.Summer Vacation - Day 3
I am in the customs line at the Manchester Airport when a woman about my age strikes up a conversation as we patiently wait. “Excuse me,” she says, “but I notice that you are wearing hiking boots. Are you planning on hiking while in England?” “Not really, “ I reply, “ but I plan to be tramping through old graveyards and hiking into remote areas searching for dead ancestors.” She said she couldn’t help but notice that I seem to be traveling alone. I confirm her observation and she says how glad she is to find another woman, such as she, traveling alone. Her father, it appears, was aghast at the notion of her traveling solo. To me, it was no big deal. My husband was invited along, as was my father and his wife – but all declined for various reasons. And I wasn’t really going to be alone the whole time as I was meeting up with cousin Dale at the end of the week in Scotland. But for the first couple days, I would be by myself in York.
I had booked a room for 2 days in York which travelers reviews had reported was in an old private home converted to an inn. “Old, shabby, and in need of sprucing up” was how it was described but I found it to suit my taste 
completely. I certainly did not want to stay in a modern or artistically stale hotel and I found the old style decorations charming.
completely. I certainly did not want to stay in a modern or artistically stale hotel and I found the old style decorations charming.After locating my accommodations, I set off down the road towards the medieval city of York. I had visited York in 2005 with Aunt Janet and had felt at the time that our visit was too abbreviated to satisfy me. The first thing I did was locate Micklegate Bar – 
one of the ancient entrances into the city and the one traditionally used by the reigning monarch. As luck would have it, my hotel was on the road that led directly to that ancient entryway into the walled city. I was keen to see the gate where King Richard III’s father and younger brother Edmund’s severed heads
had been displayed after losing a battle for Yorkist control of the throne. This event, of course, was very early in the struggle for the throne, known as The War of the Roses, which pitted the Lancastrians against the Yorkists – both sides of the family being descended from that great English King, Edward III.
one of the ancient entrances into the city and the one traditionally used by the reigning monarch. As luck would have it, my hotel was on the road that led directly to that ancient entryway into the walled city. I was keen to see the gate where King Richard III’s father and younger brother Edmund’s severed heads
had been displayed after losing a battle for Yorkist control of the throne. This event, of course, was very early in the struggle for the throne, known as The War of the Roses, which pitted the Lancastrians against the Yorkists – both sides of the family being descended from that great English King, Edward III.The guard tower of Micklegate Bar had been converted to a tacky little museum which I cheerfully paid 5 pounds to explore. The gatekeeper was a wonderful old fellow who engaged me in a conversation about The War of the Roses – having no other visitors present and obviously glad for the opportunity to expound upon his theories as to who he thought killed the “Princes in the Tower”. We both agreed that a likely candidate was the Duke of Buckingham who had both opportunity and motive.
After quitting Micklegate Bar, I walked atop the city wall 
over to the ruins of St. Mary’s Abbey – 
once the wealthiest monastery in the north of England. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon and the park and gardens surrounding the abbey were filled with young people lying in the grass and picnicking. I determined this was an ideal spot for me to relax for a while and eat a sandwich. I then visited the Yorkshire museum which was on the grounds and learned more about the abbey itself and the excavations which had revealed a Roman occupation of the spot long ago.
over to the ruins of St. Mary’s Abbey – 
once the wealthiest monastery in the north of England. It was a beautiful, sunny afternoon and the park and gardens surrounding the abbey were filled with young people lying in the grass and picnicking. I determined this was an ideal spot for me to relax for a while and eat a sandwich. I then visited the Yorkshire museum which was on the grounds and learned more about the abbey itself and the excavations which had revealed a Roman occupation of the spot long ago.By the time I finished with the museum, I was in desperate need of a nap. So I returned to the Inn and took a cold shower and slept. I would have preferred a warm shower but that option was not available to me…only cold water would come out of the tap! After 2 hours sleeping, I returned to the streets in search of a simple supper – which was not to be found. I settled for McDonalds – of all horrible things! I never willingly choose such a ghastly meal – but it was getting late and most places were closed or did not offer the quick bite I was looking for! I had visions of my daughter and husband ridiculing me and vowed silently that I wouldn’t tell anyone!
Summer Vacation - Day 2
I love to travel...and I have done it enough to know that one should always plan for the unexpected. No problem...but that doesn't mean I actually enjoy trying to occupy myself in an airport for 8 hours waiting for a flight I should have been on yesterday! I read an entire book in the lounge of Gate 32: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. It was a Christmas present from Alicia who had also given me The Kite Runner the previous summer - a book that I like to think helped get me my teaching job last year...but that's another story.
Finally, I board the flight and as luck would have it, my seat mate was a chatty woman in her 60s who actually lives in York, England - the 1st destination in my rescheduled itinerary. My original plan had been to spend my first day at the Lancashire Records Office in Preston to search for dead ancestors. That activity will have to be rescheduled for another trip - another time. The flight was pleasant and even though I can never sleep on an airplane, I did not mind as Katherine was a nice and informative companion. She suggested that we travel together to York which I readily agreed to.
Finally, I board the flight and as luck would have it, my seat mate was a chatty woman in her 60s who actually lives in York, England - the 1st destination in my rescheduled itinerary. My original plan had been to spend my first day at the Lancashire Records Office in Preston to search for dead ancestors. That activity will have to be rescheduled for another trip - another time. The flight was pleasant and even though I can never sleep on an airplane, I did not mind as Katherine was a nice and informative companion. She suggested that we travel together to York which I readily agreed to.
Summer Vacation - Day 1
Its a long way to England...but the trip just got longer thanks to a violent summer storm in Atlanta which closed the airport for almost 2 hours. Do you know how many flights go into and out of Atlanta in 2 hours? Lots...and as I sat in the terminal at Yeager Airport in Charleston, I was assured that I would make my flight to Manchester England with no problem. "Your airplane is circling the airport - unable to land because of the ground delay." Well, okay...but I don't live that far away from the airport - I could go home and sleep in my own bed instead of getting stuck in Atlanta for 24 hours. With the reassurance from the Delta rep...I boarded the flight to Atlanta. I should have stuck with my own instinct...my flight to Manchester left town before I ever set foot in Atlanta. What a nightmare...I had to wait over two hours in line [with scores of tourists in the same predicament as me] to rebook my international flight. By this time it was past 10pm and I left the airport to find transportation to the hotel which the airline graciously booked for me but declined to pay for! Another 2 hour wait [with even MORE tourists who were by this time tired and disgruntled with the haphazard method of finding the shuttle to a specific hotel.] Obviously, my hotel was one of the least efficient...not enough buses etc...I waited and waited and waited. It was 12:30am by the time I got to the hotel.
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