One of our godchildren, Nick, has come north to visit us in the chosen land of Scotland, from his dreary grind of going on sight-seeing tours, seeing theatrical productions, and discussing Romantic poetry in London. No wonder he fled to Glasgow!
Since we felt obliged to show Nick some of the best Scotland has to offer, we all went up to Stirling Castle yesterday (in the typically gorgeous Scottish sunshine) to explore the stony keep that held England at bay time and again (except when it didn’t). (actually, Stirling was hardly ever overrun in battle; more often, its imposing position and impregnable walls simply made the castle a convenient target for a siege, and the castle was most often starved into submission.) The Castle has been very thoroughly restored over the past ten or fifteen years, and is now in grand condition — amply worth a visit when you’re in the area.
I’ve been to many castles in my day (and several more in my night), intact and ruined, decrepit and renovated — and right now, Stirling tops my list. Edinburgh Castle wins for largeness, but the restoration at Stirling excels anything I’ve seen before. I’m very thankful that Rich urged us to go, and pleased that we decided to take him up on that suggestion. If I were King, I might think again about allowing Historic Scotland to administer Stirling; it would make a spectacular little getaway cabin. And well done, Your Royal Majesty, for supporting the restoration, and do come back for a visit sometime.