When you say hills you really mean mountains right?

Coming from east coast America I have become accustomed to a certain pattern of weather movement throughout the year. Even as a young child I knew that looking over the mountains to the west in Spring and Fall I could watch a rolling storm or batch of wind clouds come right over us. However in the winter and summer the same could be seen but even more interesting systems could come in from the north or even south. As a child in Pennsylvania one learns quickly what the term 'NorEaster' means.

This isn't the case in Scotland. The North Atlantic is a turbulent part of the globe, ever changing with its winds, pressure, temperature, etc. The northern part of the British Isles feels the brunt of these changing moods. The locals around the countryside in Scotland say, "If you're not happy with the weather now, just wait 20 minutes and it will be different." How true is that. What a job it must be to be a meteorologist here, you can just about always be right.

I entered into Scotland by train on Friday passing through York and Newcastle England and then across the borders into sheep fields, thistle patches and coastline. Take a moment and think of a romantic film about a Scottish maiden waiting for her hero soldier to return from some war on the continent, or just think of the Outlander book series. You see the bluffs and the waves crashing against the rocks? Yeah, no seriously, the seaside by the North Sea is like that. Its just wild seeing the sea and then turning round and seeing the heather and mosses, it makes songs well up inside you!

Moving on. Edinburgh airport is gray, such great camouflage against the sky. I was picked up by car and we drove, in the rain through the "hills" to Auchterarder. Hills. rolling, one might have a lovely house on a hill, or go for an afternoon walk on a hill. PEOPLE DIE IN THE SCOTTISH HILLS. You can't build a house on them because the rocks are too steep! Classification of these hills are actually mountains, found that out during lunch, but the Scots are a modest people and prefer to call them hills. Much more endearing I say as well. Oh, we're going for a walk on one this weekend, should be lovely.

Stand by a hill here and look around, I think you'd see at least 30 different shades of green. Its almost unnerving. First of all you've got this bigass 'hill' at the back of you, then you look round and you see all this LIFE. Yes, plant life. It's freezing cold, but theres flora all around. This brings me back to my original point, the weather here is so bizarre that all theres left to do is GROW.

Take the rainforest right, it rains buckets there all the time and its hot as Hades thus making trees that are hundreds of feet high. Ye've not got the heat here, but the moisture definitly, and as living things do, they adapt. Shrubs, nettle, thistle, grasses here are so hearty they can withstand the winds and odd cold spells that turn up ohhhh, let say IN AUGUST. Crops are planted and fruit later in the year, but thrive. Here at Ochil Tower, we are totally organic, have been for 40 years, but still theres zucchini that are 10 inches in diameter and 18 inches long, that's one damn big squash.

In the time it took me to write this blog the temperature has dropped I'd guess 5 degrees outside and the cloud cover has gone from minimal to totally covered. The weatherman called for HEAVY RAIN today, I'm guessing we'll see that by dinnertime.

Clever Clever Romans

The Romans were a damn smart group of people. They built massive cities full of extremely modern architecture and engineering. They understood the stars, they were learned in language/politics/literature, they used plumbing for goodness sake! And they were so intelligent about where they put their shit.

The hill in Lincoln. A hill like many others, it's high, it has a good view from the top, when rain falls on it...the water rolls down. However, this hill is so good, when the Romans came to town what a thousand years ago, they looked at this hill and thought " Ain't nobody gonna mess with us up there", and so they built temples, an arena, government offices, etc. up there. And from then on the Hill was where it's at. Today yes, there's the Castle and the Cathedral (so so so nice), there's also a pub district because like the Romans pub owners are smart and they know that if people are doing a pub crawl around Lincoln, if they walk up the hill they'll be sober by the top therefore able to drink more when they get there.

There's also a nice sweet shop on a road up the hill, reminscent of Burty Bots (sp?) from Harry Potter. It's so small my friend Emma's boyfriend Sean and I had to que up outside. It's possible the store could only hold about 5 people max. 5 people all trying to gawk at the wondrous Toffies.

A Hobbit serving tea and curry.

Trashy magazine? Check. Comfortable clothes? Check. Drammamine? Check. Seeing that the steward for my section of the plane oddly resembles Same from The Lord of the Rings...and is named Sam, not prepared for that.

So I was served tea, curry, and asked 'you alright?' by a Hobbit. Already experiencing too much turbulence for my taste, having an obvious fan of the Jersey Shore fashion stealing more than half of the arm rest, and realizing my ass is just too ghetto to be even slightly comfortable in the bathroom, having this character walking up and down the aisle every now and then just made the plane trip that much more enjoyable. Watching 'Good Hair' by Chris Rock, THAT my friends is a money movie definitly worth watching while trying to get your attention off the man snoring 5 rows back and that faint smell of B.O. and what is that? Patchoulie? Where's the hippie?

At one point during my epic journey to the Great North, I told myself stupidly, "Something HAS to go wrong, this is all being way too successful." Gosh am I dumb. Dumb Dumb Dumb. About half hour later, our train, which was on it's first day of travel, has to terminate in Peterborough. Definition of Peterborgouh--A hole of a city in which the main language consists of putting "idn't though" in every 4 to 5 words that vaguely resemble the Midlands English dialect. Luckily there was a train, delayed, right behind us that picked us up, offered us vouchers to compensate the delay/cancellation/general pain in the ass, and set forth for Newark Northgate station. One more transfer, right? Well, right. Ohhhh, but no one's ever SEEN a huge backpack before so let's all stare at the spectacle hmm? Bother.

Rambling done.