Bits and Pieces

As luck would have it, my husband's relatives offered us a place to stay in Glenrothes, Scotland. We were so excited to experience the authentic Scottish way of life! First, we were greeted and served with graciousness and hospitality of Alan and Marian Roy. With full crystal and china place settings, they offered us a delicious four course meal consisting of carrot coriander soup, salads, fresh potatoes, an assortment of deli meats(no haggis yet), and a delicious apple crumble dessert. We hadn't had such a feast in all the time we had arrived in Britain. Aunt Marian certainly showed us how to entertain in a royal way. As we ate and got to know one another, Aunt Marian's family arrived and the true Scottish brogue started flying. Alison, Gavin, Rachel and Andrew Milne entertained us all with stories of summer and holidays they had taken around the world. It was quite a riot trying to understand the true Scottish words we didn't know. I noticed Deb sitting quietly listening hard to make out new words, Sue stopped conversations midpoint for clarification, and mostly we smiled and laughed with everyone. It seems that the Scottish had just as much fun listening to all our different Midwestern accents as much as we did they say. Aye, aye, as they say!

Here are a few new words our Batty relatives back home may hear us say from time to time:
I am going to see my nephew play on the pitch. (a pitch is a field)
I would like my orange juice with bits. (bits are bits as far as we could tell)
Is Sue a wifey? (wifey is an old maid)
When is the hen do? (Sue heard this as hindu!)(a hen do is a bachelorette party)
Where is the stag do? (stag do is a bachelor party)


We didn't have long with our new distant relatives, but the time we shared was precious and long lasting. We now have new Facebook connections and emails that will allow us to stay in touch forever. What a bonus!

St. Andrews Old Course Scotland

St. Andrews is a special place in the world for golfers. We Battys know this, and we were anxious to see those authentic golfers doing their thing. Fortunately, the 1st and 18th green were within public reach, so Deb and Edie headed down to touch the famous grass! Without upsetting the caddies too much, they posed for a few notable pictures hoping to make the front page of the St. Andrew's press. After waiting several minutes for the press to arrive, they gave up hope and headed into the British Golf Museum. Although Edie thought this was interesting, the rest of us weren't as excited. One can only look at so many golf clubs and balls before they all start looking the same. After a few souvenirs and nearly losing my very expensive lens by accidentally leaving it on the cashier's counter, we headed into town to do some shopping.

St. Andrews turned out to be rather interesting since it was graduation day from St Andrews University. Scores of families were in the streets with their graduates donned in gorgeous robes and fancy clothes. Plenty of bow ties, formal dresses, and a few kilts made sidewalk viewing a lot of fun. Sometimes it doesn't take much to keep us to be entertained!

Fortunately, it was also a glorious day for going to the beach. Just off the 18th green is a little road that takes people to the public beach that lines the golf course. It is absolutely beautiful. Deb raced toward the incoming tide, snapping pictures and writing 'Batty 2013' in the sand, yet forgot to look out at the water and was soon, scampering away with wet feet. Edie delighted in picking up seashells for her collection, and all too shortly, we made our way back to Glenrothes for a wonderful family dinner.

Who's Counting?

0 = number of times we got to our destination without getting lost once

1 = number of parking tickets we have received; number of alarms Kim pulled in a disabled toilet by accident;number of times Deb directed Kim into oncoming traffic. 

2=number of flushes it takes to make the doo doo go away with British toilets.

3= number of turn options there are on a typical roundabout.

4=number of fish and chip dinners we have had in seven days

5=number of curbs we have hit on the left hand side of the road

6=number of items we have lost something (ok, Kim has lost: jacket, map, credit card (found), souvenir bag; Deb- Jack had it; Edie's camera (found in grass on roadside); Kim - in Kirkby-Lonsdale.

7=number of shopping bags on top of Edie and Sue in the backseat
8=number of times we have seen the Batty name on historic markers
9=number of British cities invaded by the Battys (London, Chester, Lancaster, Preston, Kirkby Lonsdale, Balmaha, Stirling, Crieff, Glenrothes, St.Andrews) Edinburgh to come!
10= number of times each one of us have been called "Luv" or "Darlin'."

Lost count = number of beer brands we've tried; number of stairs we've climbed (not counting Edie's Radical Steps 86); number of road signs we don't understand and ignored(filter lane?)number of nice people we've encountered.

Scotland!

Next stop in Great Britain--Scotland. Hope the Scots are ready for us! It was only sensible that we would visit the famous Loch Lomond since we were busting out songs in the car and practicing our Scottish accents. After three hours of driving through the beautiful Highlands, we belted out a verse or two of "...on the bonny, bonny banks of Loch Lomond..." Not too surprisingly, we all knew the words of a few lines. Of course, Sue knew plenty more, so she more or less carried us. Perhaps there is Scottish in us as well!

Following our trusty GPS, we twisted and turned through beautiful tree-lined roads and hillsides. The temptation was to stop at the little pubs along the way because they were so darn cute, but the light was fading, and we wanted to get to see the Loch Lomond at sunset. Plus, our hotel sat literally on the banks of Loch Lomond, at the Oak Tree Inn. Not the fanciest place we could ever have stayed, but certainly adequate for what we needed. And, we stepped out into our Scottish experience, the Scottish language and the food. Wow, what a difference from the English land we had just left. 

On the menu for dinner, for example, were mushy peas, bangers, haggis, and mash. Certainly, we could easily pronounce the words. But who orders mushy peas? Sounds a lot like baby food and as it turns out, looks like it as well. After a lengthy discussion with the waiter deciphering all the menu items, we discovered that mushy peas were, well peas mashed up. Simple enough, but did they taste good? We had to try those. And, they weren't bad. Bangers were sausages; haggis a mix of pork, lamb or beef innards, and mash was short for mashed potatoes. And of course, a Scottish tradition menu item, beans on toast. We all were at a little bit of a loss for what to order, but decided to stick with the safe bet of fish and chips. This was the default menu item we always selected when we didn't know what to have. Deb courageously tried the haggis and reported that it wasn't bad. What a trooper!

Best of all, we he had the opportunity to try our first drink the land was known for...Scotch whiskey. Now, the Battys typically want nothing to do with hard alcohol because we were definitely known as lightweights, but wanting the full Scottish experience, Deb and Edie decided to be brave and order a dram. This was easier said than done because the Scottish bartender, thick with accent, wanted to know what kind and if they wanted water with it or not. Of course, he didn't say something like "Would you like water with that," instead he said something in Scottish, which cracked us up because we couldn't understand him. So, we just nodded and smiled, which incidentally gets you far in this country. 

With Deb's first sip of whiskey, we witnessed steam coming out Deb's ears, eyes tearing up, and her mouth puckering up in pain. Clearly this was going to be fun for the Battys. Sue and I laughed so hard we cried watching Deb try to get this down, but she never gave up. It takes more than a little pain to deter a Batty from her goals. Plus, her more experienced aunt Edith seemed to have the swishing method down, and she had that happy glow so many Scottish have after a wee dram. Deb followed suit and he cheeks soon glowed as well.

Watch out Scotland, the Battys have arrived, and we are taking your Scotch with us!

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Food, Glorious Food!

It seems the English have a variety of ways to prepare eggs. Every breakfast selection offers eggs. Poached, fried(an English favorite), boiled, scrambled, with sauce, without sauce, you name it. This was fine and dandy for the Battys, but there was one little hangup. None of the Battys, except me will eat a soft centered egg. And, if you don't say anything to the waiter, all yolks will be runny. This is when we started to wonder if Grandpa Batty really was a Battty because clearly his direct ancestors were soft yolk people.

It took courage to order the soft centered egg because of the awkwardness of asking for special treatment, but what's a Batty to do? Simple, one would muster up the courage to ask for a hard center and the rest of us would take turns chiming in, "Me, too!" Oh we Battys, we stick together! Of course, we are always curious about food because our ancestors have a l-o-n-g history with growing and preparing it. In fact, nearly every Batty loves potatoes; thankfully this trip has shown us why!! It's in our genes or jeans!

Eggs aren't the only thing we were eating every day (we decided we'd watch cholesterol levels when we got home...). One night we ate in a lovely French restaurant (hypocrisy?) and were offered a delightful selection of all inclusive meals at a single price. Plus, it included a full bottle of wine for each person.

Or two giant draughts (they looked more like quarts) of beer or three bottles of beer per person. We thought those French were really onto something, and realized why no one would probably invade them anytime soon or have an uprising. Perhaps France will be the next place the Battys venture to....

Of course, this all in one price was ideal for us. All that digging in handbags for exact change to split every meal four ways was simplified. No one had to pull out their tip calculator, try to figure out whether or not to pay the VAT(we didn't know exactly what that was anyway) or whether or not the tip was included. We were content to just pull out our funny money, pay the bill, hop in a taxi and off we went!

We also discovered we have a way of sticking together even about our food. It turns out we never want to be singled out. So, this means that when one of us orders, the rest of us order the same...nearly every time. Or if we want a variation, everyone of us wants a variation. But since we were raised to never complain, we soldier on despite some of our food appearing with a raw tomatoes or runny eggs. We are clever with covering fish heads with lettuce, so the rest of us can eat, stirring the runny egg around so it mixes with something else or carefully cutting away the firm white of the egg away from the yolk. Battys know what Battys like and there is no middle ground.

Kirkby What?

Kirkby Lonsdale-Another Batty Landmark!

 One way...nope, a two way street!

We had asked James of The Afton if he knew of any little quaint places we could visit on our way to Scotland. Right away he mentioned Kirkby Lonsdale. He talked up the place and said a lot of people enjoy this rest stop that's off the beaten path. By this time we had trusted James' opinion on just about anything so we packed up and headed off on another adventure! Although it wasn't on our GPS and I felt a little intimidated, he gave us perfect directions. Plus Deb, my chief navigator, was instrumental in remembering where we had to go and pointed us in the right direction.

Sure enough within about an hour's worth of driving, we were parked, walking into little boutique shops, smiling with all the English shop owners, and taking loads of pictures. Near the end of the main drive we stumbled into the courtyard of a very old church and graveyard. Of course, Edie wanted to investigate and it's a good thing she did because there were Battys buried all over the place! It's like she was following some inner scent all over England!

Edie, Deb and Sue couldn't get enough of this church. Unfortunately, I was distracted (what a surprise!) and went out seeking some food in the little shops. Once I had my cut of salami, cheese and bread, I couldn't find my fellow Battys:(. I looked all over that stupid graveyard, tried to open the church door, but it wouldn't open and felt like this is where I would erect my own gravesite! For a moment, I wondered if the area needed an American English teacher because without my family, I was lost!

I quickly retraced our steps back to the town center hoping to find them, but they were nowhere! Thinking they might have gone back to the car (unlikely), I started the mile long hike back to the parking lot. Of course, on the way I had to go to the bathroom and stopped at a nasty public toilet that was more like a small tomb complete with an electronic metal door that had sealed in the putrid smell. After a minor claustrophobic attack, I escaped gasping for fresh air and sat on the rock wall dejected. Surely, if they wanted to get rid of their driver they could have just asked...

William Batty

After what seemed like hours, we finally reconnected. THEY claimed I had ditched them, but it was they who ditched me. Like the ever devoted mom, Edie reassured me that she was in the church the whole time and had even climbed up and down 86 steps to the river to see if I was taking pictures. Apparently, I had tried pulling the door open on the church, but the door had to be pushed open. Who knew?

Taking notes and recording our heritage

James!!!

What were we to do after a long day of rummaging around the past, but to dip into the present and be treated like the rightful royalty we were. Fortunately, we found just the place at an exquisite B&B on the outskirts of town called The Ashton in Lancaster, England.

With our GPS programmed correctly, we thought we were headed in the right direction, however we drove right by the darn place a couple of times, wondering why there wasn't a big sign or something identifying the place. "You'd think they'd have a sign or something," Deb exclaimed, peering out the front windshield. Back and forth we looked from the GPS to the road and back again. Still nothing. Eventually, we ended up on country roads in the heart of farmland. Instead of getting worked up about that, we decided to take a little tour and completely ignored the navigation system altogether. We drove up a tiny road to see a breathtaking sunset overlooking Lancaster and all the FARMS! Our smiles spread from ear to ear seeing those kelly green crops fanning over the rolling hills framed in historic rock walls. Each one of us felt as though we had arrived home. Just imagine...our ancestors walked these very same roads.

Of course, we momentarily forgot about our lodging problem and jumped out of the car click, clicking away with our cameras.  A few minutes later, we drove ahead and watched the fading sunset. I tried to ignore my growing anxiety of not knowing where the B&B was, but it got the better of me. 

"We better get back," I tried. "We still don't know where we are staying." 

Everyone looked at me like I was ridiculous. "We'll be fine," Sue said, and off we drove further and further away from the little red flag on the GPS.

"Let's go over there," Deb insisted, pointing up the hill further. It was obvious that Deb was looking not only at the beautiful sunset, but also scouting a field to sleep in. Surely, she would see the woolly white sheep dotting the landscape were not inviting her to bed down, but the farm girl in her obviously took precedent. "Turn in here," Deb suddenly insisted, nearly taking the wheel from me. With an abrupt left turn we sat in a random farmer's gravel driveway.

Before the car had even stopped, Deb jumped out with her camera and raced toward those sheep mewing in the field. It didn't appear to matter that the sheep were a bit skittery or that we were blocking someone's rightful entry to their own home. Even Edie now thought this was a fabulous idea and had left the car as well! It appears we never want to miss a thing when it comes to farmland! Sue and I watched from the idling car as Deb stood on a grassy 12-inch grass shoulder taking pictures while cars narrowly missed her as they navigated the tight turns. At times I could hardly watch, but Deb didn't flinch at all. Finally, the sun had fully set, and we headed back to try and find James and The Ashton once again.

This time on the final pass, I spotted an A...something on a wall as we zoomed passed the same rock wall we had been by before. Whoops, it was a HUGE sign. Turns out we couldn't keep our eyes off a good farm, so we had kept looking on the wrong side of the road!

As we drove in, I turned off the ignition and finally relaxed. We'd made it! The place really did exist and it wasn't an internet scam that had run off with our deposit. James, the proprietor, quickly greeted us  with a smile and said something we hadn't expected, "Would you like a glass of wine?" 

How did he know?

This would definitely take the edge off Sue's disdain of James' cats, one of which had already taken a liking to her. It would also help us all relax after a long day!

James must have recognized us as Lancaster royalty because he ever so politely directed us into his quaint sitting room. We didn't take any time to collapse into the soft leather sofa and chairs. It took only seconds for us to start taking yet more pictures as we admired all the beautiful flowers and charming eclectic furniture. If only we could put our feet up, Sue whispered. We nodded in agreement, but refrained from doing so. Shortly after, James not only came back with wine, but he also brought out warm homemade scones topped with fresh whipped cream, raspberry jam and a fresh strawberry. What a treat!

James had it all figured out for us. He not only directed us to our beautiful rooms with exquisite linens, heated floors and towel racks, he ordered a taxi and booked a reservation for us at a local French restaurant. It was as if the we had a personal butler, and it's not often a man knows what a Batty woman needs in times like these!

Hallowed Ground

Home again, home again jiggety jig, Battys are everywhere diggety dig.

Upon arrival at St. John the Evangelist Church in Lancaster, we were greeted by our private tour guide, Mandy. Of course she had red hair, stood about five feet tall, and had sparkling blue eyes...related? Probably. Fortunately, Edie had been in contact with her months before our arrival, and she was ready for us. After a couple of hours of learning the church history (the woman could talk!), we learned where our ancestors probably sat (in the back of course, based on the fact that families had to buy pew space, and our family was big...those Battys could reproduce), but we also learned that this church is basically untouched and a historical monument. With a little spit and polish, it could be our own little Westminster Abbey.

Edie touching the sounding board 

We also got to see the special mahogany sounding board that was stowed away upstairs under an old bed sheet. It was much bigger than we thought; about 4x4x5 sq. feet with intricate engravings. Mandy said the sounding board was used before they had microphones. We think it's because when the Battys get talking no one can get a word in edgewise, so a BIG sounding board was needed. Sue only scared Mandy once by asking if she could stand on it!

Our church

Preserving a copy to bring home

Three hours later (no exaggeration) we were invited to go outside and take a look around at the gravestones...most were overgrown with weeds and random little flowers. Mandy also wanted to show us the original baptismal font(I know...look it up). We rounded the corner, looked at the wall and there it was. Not the font, but EDWARD BATTY'S grave marker affixed to the wall. He was our great great great great grandfather...the town architect who designed the famous Dalton Town Square. We were famous! Mandy's eyes lit up. Now, she wanted to take our picture for the local newspaper. Click, click, click went the cameras. So take that Queen Elizabeth!

Signing the church registry

Upon finding the street our family lived on was called Pitt St., and it was a pit, we hoped they wouldn't advertise that little known fact in the newspaper! Looks like there was a good reason why the Battys were looking for an entirely new country to invade.

Cheerio London!

We'd seen enough of London and all its wonder, so we decided to hire a taxi, rent a car, and head up the coast to Scotland. But first we had to make it to the car rental at the airport.

It turns out National Rental Car didn't know what they were in for when we showed up. The turban clad taxi driver who looked around for a trolley when he started to unload our luggage should have given us some clue, but we didn't notice. Like good Battys, we didn't acknowledge any of the stares the other tourists gave us as they cleared the aisles for Sue and Edie pushing now full shopping cart sized trolleys through the narrow glass sliding doors. Only one woman gasped, "Oh my god!" Fortunately, we had upgraded to an Audi sadan something or other with a navigation system. And, thankfully we had that little piece of technology!

Our combined luggage

Edie sat in this little tiny space

With Kim in the driver's seat, Deb sitting shotgun, Sue navigating from behind, and Edie offering support from under all the carry-on luggage, we were ready to begin. It didn't matter that we didn't know how to turn on the car with its fancy key fob. We took those extra few minutes to smell the fine grained leather and start laughing. Finally, Deb pushed that key fob sucker into the ignition, and the car roared to life! Phew, we were off. With a death grip, I clutched the steering wheel and pulled ahead ever so slowly.

Yep, I'm definitely stressed!

It didn't take long for us to get lost. Instantly, I freaked out from driving on the wrong side of the road, ignored the GPS, and one roundabout later we were circling a business park. While sitting in the parking lot wondering what to do next, Sue casually said from the back seat, "I told you to follow the bus."

I sighed, but laughed inside:).

As we slowly made our way back toward the airport along the access roads, Deb added, "Is that plane coming right at us?"
Edie exclaimed, "Watch out!"

The very nice man helping us load our luggage

I tried deep breathing just like my yoga teacher told me to during high stress situations. Instead, I reverted to my Batty roots and shouted, "Stop talking! Only Sue and Deb can talk."

Deb took advantage of this and snapped, "And don't talk to your mother like that!"

Suddenly, our three and a half hour drive to Chester sounded like it would take a whole lot longer.