Farewell, bonny Scotland…
So.
We’ve packed up and shipped out.
All our worldly possessions are in the back of Ollie. We’ve traveled 1200 miles in a week.
Suffice it to say internet-time is at a minimum.
So for now I leave you with this:
After 8 years and 10 months in Scotland, as we drove our winding way to the border, we were stopped by a very nice police woman standing in the middle of the road with her blue lights flashing.
The village fete is on today she said The road ahead is closed for the parade, if we’d just hold on 10 minutes it’ll be clear again.
Leave it to us to stumble on a minor blockade on our way out of Dodge.
Turning back to take an alternative route would take us nearly 50 miles out of our way and we were in no rush. So we waited in the warm, buzzing sunshine.
As the glorious June morning unfolded we watched bagpipers, school drum bands, local equestrian champions, the odd Victorian horse-drawn carriage, and at least one girl wearing an ermine-lined crown and velvet cape parade up the high street.
I was especially fond of the tractor-pulled Viking longboat, courtesy of the village primary school.
Local kids stood on the pavement waving at friends. Parents cheered from parked cars and shop windows. Several families stood in matching costumes on the kerbside, catching candy and dodging passing water pistols.
Bunting and brass bands and bountiful smiles bloomed on every corner.
I cannot tell you how perfect an ending it was.
Community. Family. Joy and Celebration.
Love and cheer and spontaneous excitement.
In my deeply selfish way it felt like my own goodbye.
A whole town waving at me, cheering us on. As we reached the finish line of our Scottish adventure it was as though they’d appeared from the hills especially to see us off.
I know I am delusional. But I’m also very lucky.
It was all the best parts of living in Scotland come to say goodbye. And hello. And for always.
Que Sera Sara? 