...which is what I said.
This past Saturday, Tim and I took the train up to Pitlochry and Loch Faskally.
It was a positively Scottish day, very rainy - though not all that cold, thankfully.
When we got in it was lunchtime, and since we had packed our lunches we sat down to eat them under the porch of a local theatre, where we were summarily goggled at (inexplicably) by people going in and out. Very Brigadoon.
Remember that scene in "Prince Caspian" in which the children are being chased by Telmarine archers through a wood, and they hide under the rhododendrons? Rhododendrons. Rhododendrons everywhere.
After seeing some man-made constructions in Edinburgh and Stirling, it was wonderful to break out and see some damp, forbidding Scottish landscape. It was breath-taking, and every ten minutes I kept asking myself what ill humour it was that possessed the sun-in-splendour southerners to try to conquer the "big damn foggy island."
This little guy was growing in the crook of a tree. Very "Princess Mononoke."
While wet, the weather was very atmospheric. This is a shot off the dam at the base of Loch Faskally. Those clouds! They sunk down into the valleys and you could literally watch entire clouds float by.
While it was not that cold, after poorly dodging puddles in the muddy paths, my sneakers had taken a beating and my socks were wet. Apart from cleaning out my frogs once I trotted home, I was beginning to wonder if a mustard foot-bath wouldn't do me some good...