Staying in the first actual hotel since we left Manchester two days shy of a month ago. A very old hotel, where the floor slopes in a different direction with each step.
The breakfast buffet boasts 135 items, but if you discount the haggis and black pudding, it's down to only 133, I suppose. I always hate it when they promise "fruit" with breakfast and it turns out to be....a big bowl of prunes. (shudder)
I came down to breakfast earrrrly, anticipating a cup of coffee and a chance to indulge in iPad news gathering while I wait for my slower half, but alas, no wifi in the dining room! This hotel has been here since the mid-1500's, plenty of time, it seems to me, to get the wifi system up and running! No wifi at breakfast strikes me as some sort of rigid olde Presbyterian prohibition like no bicycling on the Sabbath or something. Maybe if I eat my haggis, they'll let me have wifi?
We tried the door at the Church of St. John down the street ( where John Knox's preaching unleashed the protestant church-burning rabble) but the church was closed. It's October, see. The tourists are gone.
We walked, yes, walked, (it's become something of a habit) to the Palace of Scone ("Skoon") where Scotland's kings were crowned. Its the present home of the Earl of Mansfield and his lovely family which is evidently supposed to be wonderful but being a cranky colonial, I couldn't care less about royals. Mr Earl does have a nifty garden maze though and some pet highland cattle (the "healin koo") which are sort of like shaggy Texas longhorns.
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