|
Listening to: Tragically Hip and 54-40 |
Monday, December 1st, 2003Yesterday was St. Andrew's Day, so to celebrate (and to combat post-essay depression), Ruth and I went to the castle for free! Which was great, because usually they want you to sign over your firstborn to get inside, then they ask you to donate your left liver if you want a guided tour, and frankly, I'm not so sure I'm going to have a firstborn, and I already have plans to ruin my left liver with drink once I become a famous moody writer, so I can't do that. Which is why we went yesterday, because St. Andrew's Day doesn't just mean bagpipe parades down Princes Street, or £1 pints at the Drouthy Neebors. St. Andrew's Day means it's time to storm the castle! Of course, since it was Sunday, I hadn't gotten out of bed until 11 or 12, so we only really left the flat at 3. We thought that would mean that the place would be packed with other slackers like us, and yeah, it was, but they were all leaving, so it wasn't for long. Plus, we got there just before sunset, so all the pictures I took (which may have worked, I'm not sure, my batteries died after four shots so I can't get anything off the thing until I buy more AAs) were all pretty and pink and gold. In any event, regardless of whether the pictures turned out, we had a fun time looking at rocks and stones and Scottish royal jewels. Which, in case you are wondering, are very shiny indeed. There was also a big rock beside the sceptre and crown, which they called the Stone of Destiny. That made me giggle. In more personal news, I have yet to finish my readings for tomorrow, which consist of 300 more pages of the most retarded book ever (I don't even feel bad about using that word, because it is, it so, so is), and something medieval that I haven't even looked up yet. So yes, Emily dear, let's get moving, shall we?
|
|
Archives:
Elsewhere: about links shop wishlist |
