Scottish Relaxation and Imagination

Helensburgh, Scotland

Soaking in the tub with a whisky in one hand and a Poirot mystery in the other, I felt myself really relax for the first time in weeks.  Listening to a small garden party just outside the bathroom window, trying to decipher the words hidden in deep Scottish brogue, the realization that we were here finally sunk in.

Anabel and I love the "too cute" laundry room!

The kids adore cooking in our new kitchen.

Our view over the River Clyde

Scotland is unbelievably gorgeous!  I wished my sister were here so we could wax on about the rolling hills, the lonely cry of the sea gulls, the tiny gardens with their wee flowers, the efficient laundry room overlooking the garden, and the cooker (sadly, no aga, but I would never know how to navigate one anyway.)  Isabel, the owner of Tolsta Self-Catering in Helensburgh, Scotland, met us just after we got off the train and showed us around our flat.  We were delayed by 2 hours so she kindly offered to drive me to town to run in a shop for a few supplies.  She took me to the farm co-op which was stocked with all things local.  Scottish butter and eggs!  Fresh thick sliced bread!  Wyatt helped me gather our few things for dinner and the next day's meals while Isabel patiently waited by the check-out; she even helped bag our things. After the exhausting day of travel on the National and Scottish Rail, how comforting to be welcomed so warmly!

While the kids explored our cozy three bedroom apartment, Greg and I enjoyed a whisky (grabbed at the co-op) while our British Hunters' Chicken (they also had ready to cook items) roasted in the cooker. Anabel said the blessing as we sat around the table of our first meal in Scotland around 9 PM.  

We retired around eleven, opening our windows to the sea breeze.  I fell fast asleep, but woke around 1 AM.  I tossed and turned for a while, and then, decided to go to the WC (short for water closet which is the British term for toilet.)  As I opened our bedroom door, another door slammed shut.  I froze.  Was that an apparition standing in front of my children's door? Had I really traveled all this way to have my kids attacked from the hereafter?  I swear I stood there believing in ghosts and cussing every writer of all the ghost stories I had ever read.  My mind was actually envisioning the wispy specter from my favorite ghost movie, The Uninvited. Why, oh why, had I watched that over and over with my niece and nephew?  What is entertaining at 8 PM is down right scary at one in the morning.  Somehow, I found a light, which revealed.... nothing in the passageway.  I crept to the bathroom, splashed my face and willed myself to be rational.  The only solution I could come up with to combat my imagination was a giant bowlful of chocolate Krispies.  It was the perfect antedote for wakeful imaginations; it put them where they belonged: in my nightmares.

Aren't imaginations fun until they take control? When Emma served me Earl Grey and toast in bed this morning, all the night terrors faded to a silly memory... unless they return tonight.