We discussed really good poetry the other day.
Here’s some really bad stuff.
For some reason, this post – written in 2010 – is showing up in a search for the blog. It still cracks me up.
I especially love these lines:
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.
http://karenranney.wordpress.com/2010/08/30/the-tay-bridge-and-really-bad-poetry/
One of my favorite places on the web is rampantscotland.com. These pictures of Dunvegan are taken from their site:
Isn’t that the loveliest castle?
From rampantscotland.com: “Built on a rocky promontory, this huge 14th century keep, 15th century tower and a hall built in the 17th century, has been continuously occupied by the chiefs of the clan MacLeod since at least 1270 (longer than any other family castle in Scotland). It appears that the first Leod obtained the castle when he married the local Norse Seneschall (Sheriff) in the 13th century.”
Now, doesn’t that make you want to do more research? The first Leod obtained the castle when he married the Sheriff? So, was the Sheriff female? Interesting, hmm?
Evidently, the castle is open to the public for a large fee, and has proven ruinously expensive to maintain. But, it is a castle, after all, one that dates from the 13th century. I’ll have to do some checking on the Sheriff thing. Maybe they left out the word “daughter”.
UPDATE:
Here’s a great article on the late owner of Dunvegan. It expounds on his troubles with the roof, etc. And, I think from what I’ve been able to find, that it was the daughter of the Sheriff, not the Sheriff, who was married.
I love Scotland. If I had to be bodily transported from Texas, I’d live in Scotland. If I couldn’t live in Texas or Scotland, I’d live in England, but that’s an entirely different post.
I’ve only been to Scotland three times, although one trip was almost a month. Since I’m known for books that take place primarily in 18th and 19th century Scotland, you’d think I’d talk about my travels more. I don’t on purpose. I’m bound to get some of the details wrong, mix up the sights with the sounds, and call something one thing when it’s clearly another.
In other words, memories of travel aren’t often correct.
Sometimes, I’ll do research, find a location, and think, “Oh, I was there.” At times, the research doesn’t fit with my memories at all.
I do have one memory that will never leave me – the kindness of each of the people I met in Scotland. As well as the fact that I really can get lost very easily. And, although we think the Scots speak English (and the English speak English) we’re often misunderstood – on both sides. I can’t tell you how many people heard me ask for directions, then said, “Oh, you’ll be from Texas, then.”
Gee, y’all, I wonder how they figured that out?
