An Update or Two

Has anyone ever asked you: ‘If you could have one super power, what would it be?’ It’s often one of those ‘ice-breaker’ questions posed at tables or in small groups at various gatherings. Right now my elected power would be to have mastery over time, the ability to slooowww doowwwwnnn time and the ability to speeditup. The ability would be particularly handy these days—these days that are, blimey, now called ‘November’.

The weeks here are simultaneously long and short, and 9 times out of 10 are marked by rigid routine and an overwhelming sense of the mundane. The mornings are dedicated to completing the PhD and the mind-numbing process of dissertation revision which accompanies it. My dissertation has seven chapters in total: an introduction and conclusion plus five main chapters. The introduction and conclusion are completed, as  are 2.5 of the 5.  Given this progress, The Supervisor and I have recently started discussing potential examiners for my viva (oral defense) in the spring. It’s a stage I’ve only imagined until now. The end is in sight.

The afternoons are dedicated to my continuing role as the University of St Andrews Study Skills Tutor. From 2-5 each day I meet with students 1-on-1 to discuss proper formats for essays, lab reports, and critical reviews. Sometimes we chat about time management skills, how to read effectively, or how to take good notes. This semester my role has expanded to leading workshop sessions in the School of Medicine and in Professional Development courses designed for the undergraduate body.  It’s a good thing I’m already somewhat used to having fifty heads looking at me; though those Sunday mornings at MRCP are gradually beginning to feel like a distant life. Tutoring and leading the workshops is enjoyable work and helps me to buy my weekly lentil supply. The down side, however, is that 15 hours a week does add up and, if I’m determined to meet my PhD submission goals, it means these hours must then be made up for at night. The ability to slow down the days would certainly be quite handy just now.

These days are further characterised by the ever-looming job hunt. Between getting groceries, cleaning, cooking, churching, fellowshipping, and, oh ya, relaxing, my Sundays are spent writing applications for various open positions around the country. And, yes, for teaching jobs you ‘write’ applications. There are no fill-in-the-blank, one-page applications: there are cover letters and Curriculum Vitae’s tailored to each school, 1—3-page essays on faith statements and how your goals align with that institution’s mission and values; there are teaching philosophies, evidence of scholarship potential, evidence of good teaching, writing samples, and anything else under the sun about which the search committee might want to know. It gets a little ridiculous, especially since (1) the search committee members don’t have the time to read it all; (2) the applicant doesn’t have time to write it all; (3) the majority of the applicants whose CV’s go straight to the bin (for many reasons) won’t even have their essays read.

Fortunately for me, a couple of the schools to which I’ve applied have read my letters/CV/essays/etc. and have advanced me to the next round. This past week I had a Skype interview with a top-notch university on the West coast and am now scheduled for a follow-up (aka much longer) Skype interview with them in mid-November. Likewise, the school to which I applied last winter but which had to suspend its hiring process has now resumed the search. They, too, have requested a Skype interview in mid-November. Both universities would be excellent places of employment. I’m still a long way from having the job and still have a significant amount of competition, but it puts me leagues ahead of the chap whose CV (and thus essays) went straight into the bin. At this point, I have no idea where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing one year from now, but I trust that God does and that he’ll direct my steps through open doors.

‘But what do you do for fun?’ you ask. The answer: not much. Somehow finishing the PhD and getting a job seems far more worthy of my time than having fun. Not to worry your pretty little heads though; I do rest and I do enjoy life; I do find time to have coffee and lunch with friends. To ensure some element of ‘fun’ in my life, I’m forcing myself to ‘bake through’ The Scottish Women’s Rural Institutes Cookery Book that I found on Judith’s shelf. It was compiled in 1960. They didn’t need instructions back then like we seem to need now.

Thus far I’ve made a Treacle Tart, a Rhubarb Charlotte, and my first steamed pudding: Carrot Pudding. (Note: I’m not talking ‘Jello-O’; ‘pudding’ here denotes ‘dessert’.)

My Treacle Tart

Steamed Carrot Pudding

Judith had to walk me through the steaming process…

The highlight of every week remains a Skype date with The Soldier. He’s doing well, particularly now that the desert heat has lowered from the constant 105 F average to the mid-high 70’s. Other than a last minute day trip to Baghdad the other week to repair a broken auxiliary pump (don’t ask me), his days are about as mundane as mine. If it were a competition, we’d be neck and neck—a sad thought, given that we both live in foreign countries just now!

All in all, life is good. The work is progressing, the future is drawing ever nearer, and God remains as faithful as ever. Not much to complain about, really.

St Andrews in Focus: Day 14

A majority of the older houses have two doors, an outer door which is often brightly coloured and an inner door which leads into the house proper.  Cultural tidbit:  According to custom, the outer door is opened in the morning and left open until evening, assuming it is warm enough.  I have no idea why though.  In the States, opening the outer door like this would serve as an open invitation for friends to pop by, suggesting to any guests that the owner is home and would welcome them.  However, British people don’t just stop by, ever.  Always, always an invitation is made or a phone call before someone goes to another’s home.  I’ve definitely broken this rule a few times with some of the locals from my church.  Somehow they all seem to recover from it just fine!

Patti and Mackenzie Day 1: A dreich day in St Andrews

They’re here!  Patti and Mackenzie made it safe and sound to Edinburgh on Tuesday evening, after (what I’m sure was) a delightful trans-Atlantic flight.   More astonishing exciting yet, they made it out of the Amsterdam airport on their layover and in to the city centre for a quick stroll down the lanes and canals of the tulip-filled city before boarding their flight to Scotland.  They tell me that it took them thirty minutes to find the exit out of the airport, so I’m not quite sure just how they managed to actually see Amsterdam and find their way back to the airport to make their next flight, but they did! 

After a bit to eat at an Edinburgh Pub, where Patti had the traditional Cullen Skink Soup and Mackenzie a plate of fish and chips (nothing like diving in to Scottish cuisine!), we boarded the train back north to St Andrews.  We would have gotten home a bit earlier than we did (had I not dazed for just a minute and thereby missed out train stop. oops.), but we eventually made it to Gowrie Cottage, my Scottish home. 

They had a few nice views on the train before all of our eyelids started sinking!

On the train!

Today they slept in and then enjoyed a cup of brew outside in Judith’s beautiful spring garden.  Well, Patti did anyway.  At 10:30.  We almost had to wrestle Kenzie out of bed at 12:15 but she finally decided to reenter the Scottish world! 

Eventually we made our way in to the city centre of St Andrews where we went to The Central, a good pub in town known for its burgers.  There, Kenzie had a chicken burger (boring!) and a hot chocolate (what?), while Patti had the classic Scottish ‘Bangers and Mash’.  Yum! 

Unfortunately, it was a typical dreich day today, so we deferred our visits to St Andrews’ most popular sights until another time and stuck to enjoying the fun shops, card stores, and tea rooms of the town.  They did see St Mary’s College and the King James Library, which are two of the University owned buildings/areas that I spend much of my time in. 

St Mary’s College dates back to the 1400’s.  Just a wee bit older than Mazeppa.

We also made our way down to the Old Course and The Royal and Ancient, but will have to return another time to enjoy its full splendour—not in the rain.  They got a glimpse of the North Sea anyway and a taste for the beauty of St Andrews—gray as it may have seemed today.

We finished the day back at the Cottage eating Fudge Donuts and Frog Cakes from Fisher and Donaldson for supper (having only had ‘breakfast’ a few hours previous!) and enjoying the warmth of the kitchen AGA.  A sweet finish to a truly dreich day.  All in all, I think it was a great first day in Scotland, even despite the rain. 

My apologies—I failed to take many photos since they’ve arrived, but I have plenty to pull from in my growing collection.  Any of those above that seem to be taken on sunny days (minus the sunset!) were probably not taken today! : )

Check back in with you tomorrow!

Lady Kate Kennedy Day Parade

The University of St Andrews and the town of St Andrews have a wealth of traditions between them.  Most are not shared by ‘Town and Gown’ alike, but one in particular seems to be a cherished tradition by all.  The Lady Kate Kennedy Day Parade, which has taken place every spring since 1926 and dates back to the 15th century in what it celebrates.  Kate Kennedy was supposedly the niece of Bishop Kennedy, who founded St Salvator’s College, the first college of the University.  Kate was said to be the ‘fairest of them all’ and known for her charitable works; though today no record exists that Lady Kate ever lived at all.

Nevertheless, Lady Kate is remembered every year in her very own Memorial Parade.  But the parade is about much more than the Fare Dame.  It is actually a collection of over 100 historical figures each with a significant connection to the University, town or country since the 15th century. 

It is always led by St Andrew himself:

and includes people like:

John Knox

(the church in the photo above is the church in which Knox preached his famous ‘down with the Catholics sermon’),

Mary, Queen of Scots,

Tom Morris (famous golfer),

Bonnie Prince Charlie,

Some guy that looks like a Musketeer,

and a whole slew of others, including famous martyrs, bishops, popes, presidents of colleges, Andrew Carnegie, Benjamin Franklin and Robert Scott.

The many characters in the parade are all wonderfully spectacular, but the fairest of them all is the Lady herself, always carried in a carriage covered in daffodils and seated next to her uncle, Bishop Kennedy. 

And always, Lady Kate is represented by a first year male student whose identity is never revealed until just moments before the carriage enters the crowds.  

In fact, until last year, every participant in the parade was a male student since the Club’s 1926 inception as a male-member only organization.  This was changed just last year, making this year’s parade a historic event as the first Kate Kennedy Parade in which women are dressed in drag just as much as the men.  Quite fitting in this university town. 

Here’s a clip of the 1936 parade!  Not much has changed.

When life gets full, it also gets random.

A random assortment of things from me to you, from my world to yours as a testimony to what my life looks like these days.  Random and full.

1) Back on November 30 the town celebrated the annual St Andrew’s Day, consisting of a huge procession of pipers, torch bearers, weird fish people (typical oddities in every public celebration here), and, of course, that which makes a Scottish procession complete—men in skirts kilts.  The procession led to an amazing display of fireworks (for St Andrews quality, that is) nearby the Old Course Hotel, before rounding back up to the city centre for the world’s largest outdoor street ceilidh (a Scottish country dance party)!   I do love me a good street dance!

2) Because St Andrew’s Day is a national celebration, many of the historic sites are open for visitors, and are free!  Here in St Andrews, one of the greatest attractions, particularly for women, is the open doors of The Royal and Ancient Clubhouse.   Normally only members of the R&A are allowed inside, and only men are allowed to be members of the R&A.  I’m all for traditions, so I’ll let it slide.  And I couldn’t care less about golf.  Nevertheless, on St Andrews Day each year, non-members of both genders are allowed inside its doors to sneak a peak at what only the elite few ever get to enjoy.  It’s pretty cool, but nothing to get your knickers in a twist over.  It was, however, pretty cool to look out over the 18th green from within the clubhouse.

3) In other news, in church on Sunday an older Scottish man said to me, ‘Ye know, yer quite aye haesler (hustler)’!  If I hadn’t been stationary when he said it, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about the seemingly out of context phrase.  Nevertheless, I decided I didn’t want to know what exactly he meant by it.  ‘Gee, thanks’.  Later I asked another Scottish person what it meant, and they said it is someone who ‘Get’s things done’.  I suppose that’s okay!

4) Also on Sunday, I met someone at church for the first time.  We exchanged a few words previous to the service, after which we continued the conversation.  Upon resuming the dialogue, she said to me, ‘I thought I detected a slight French accent at first’. 

Bahahaha!!!  I know, right?  French?!  Minnesotan is as far from French as one can get!

5) We had the St Mary’s (Divinity School of the U of SA) Carol Sing in the St Leonard’s Chapel the other night.  It is entirely lit by candles, drafty, and oh so great for singing the sharp notes of ‘O Come O Come Emmanuel’.

6) And the University of St Andrews has also had its yearly carol service at Holy Trinity Church.  It is a much larger service, church, choir and sound than the St Mary’s Carol Sing, making each good in their own ways.  (The background picture on this blog is of Holy Trinity Church.)

7) We’ve had some pretty cold temperatures (low-30’s in the daytime and mid-20’s at night) with lots of freezing rain, black ice, and frost on the grass that doesn’t leave for days on end.  It’s a chilly cycle ride to work in the mornings.  And slippery.  And dark.  The sun is rising these days at 8:30 am and setting at 3:30 pm, and we’re still 1.5 weeks from the solstice.  

8) Tragically, a St Andrews student was killed in a car accident two weekends ago due to nasty roads.  She and I were tutors together at the University.  I didn’t know her super well, but well enough.  So not only has that been sad to think about, but my work load has instantly doubled.  And my boss has been sick for the last week.  So make that a tripled work load.  The semester is just two weeks away from being done though, so it will all end soon.

9) Unfortunately, I had planned on having a chapter written by the end of this week.  I’m not sure it’s going to happen now due to the tripled tutoring hours, but I’m trying to make a valiant effort nonetheless.  Talk about long days of darkness.  Metaphorically and Literally.

10) On a happier note, I finished a shawl that I’ve been working on for Judith, my land lady, for her Christmas gift.  I think it looks great.  One really can accomplish a lot by spending just ten minutes every day or so! 

11) A few of the things I’m loving these days:  mornings of German by a warm Aga, nights of reading by a COAL fire, phone conversations with friends near and far, reading with a small dog snuggled next to me.

12) To continue the randomness of all of this…. For all of you moms of wee ones, I’d like to point you to my friend Betsy’s blog.  I’m not a mom, but I look forward to every post she makes.  Her daughter, Norah, is the most verbal child I’ve ever met, and comes up with the most hilarious things to say.  Check out the ‘Lately Said’ on the right side of the page.  You young (and experienced) mom’s may especially like one of her last posts:  winter and the hereafter. 

13) And another one:  Another blog I like is a winter resident’s in Cooke City who posts some of the most incredible pictures of winter sights and adventures there.  I’ve never met him, but, like Betsy’s, I look forward to every picture he posts.  Check it out:  The Cooke City Chronicle. 

14) I will unashamedly say that Christmas is never easy away from home, and especially not this far from home.  Please send me emails or cards telling me all about your lives these days.  Any sense of connectedness helps me to get through the season with a bit more joy that I would otherwise have.  You are all constantly in my thoughts.

16) Okay – that’s all for a study break tonight!  Good night from Scotland!

Scotticism: Summer

Not usually the case for St Andrews, or so they tell me. They also tell me that this is the worst summer St Andrews has had in about twenty years. True or not, I’m not sure; but this is not the kind of summer I’m used to!

of ignorance and bliss

I survived The Hike… or more fitting, the Death Trap.  When I signed up for this fundraiser on the Isle of Skye, I had no idea that I was just possibly signing my life away.  Really, how could a 3,000 ft. peak in Scotland be any more difficult than a 14,000 ft. peak in Colorado?  I’ve scaled mountains, crossed rivers, served my time in the wilds of the Rockies.  What does the Isle of Skye have on them? 

The Isle of Skye has the Black Cuillins.  That’s what.

It is true, you know, that ‘ignorance is bliss’.  On Saturday this past weekend, I was perfectly blissful from the time I woke up in my B&B room looking out over the gray waters of a loch (lake) across the road, and as I drove along the road winding its way around the mountains of Skye, and even when I met my guide, Jillian, who would lead myself and three other blissfully ignorant women up the mountain that day.  We were ignorant and blissful. 

And then Jillian handed each of us a helmet and a harness. 

‘Oh no,’ we said, ‘You’ve mistaken us for the other group.  They’re doing the technical hills.  We’re doing the long, intense, and difficult hike, but not technical.  No, no, we don’t need these… do we?’  ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Thaet ye do!’   

The four of us and Jillian drove to the trailhead of the three peaks we were scheduled to climb that day: Sgurr nan Gillean, Am Bastier, Bruach na Frithe.  Once there, we started our ascent, which consisted of about two hours of hiking on a normal mountain trail and then an hour of climbing over a steep scree field to the top of the ridge, by which time we were already donning our helmets. The peaks were clothed in a soft billow of cloud, which made them seem less formidable, but also gave them an eeriness fit for Mordor. 

The helmets we could understand.  It was the harnesses that gave us worry. 

And they should have.   At numerous times on the nine hour hike, we found ourselves in those harnesses clinging to the rock face with all our strength as we groped for hand and foot holds, trying not to look down at the 1000’ drop below.  Always, it seemed, we were on the edge.  The edge of the rock.  The edge of the mountain.  And with the cloud blocking our view, it seemed we were on the edge of the world.

We climbed vertically in those harnesses. 

(Don’t be deceived by this smile!  It’s actually an, ‘I’m going to kill whoever got me into this mess’ kind of smile!)

We clamored horizontally in those harnesses.

We descended vertically in those harnesses.  

At the top of the peaks we saw views like this in our harnesses:

And just below the tops, we saw views like this in our harnesses:

And the fact that we didn’t fall into The Trap or off the mountain (not that they’re different) is because of Jillian, our wee but fierce mountain guide:

In truth, if I hadn’t been fully ignorant of what it was that I signed up for, I probably wouldn’t have had the guts to do it.  Personally, I don’t like the feeling of having my legs shaking uncontrollably while climbing up a rock chimney, or the feeling that I can quickly find myself dangling in mid-air if my foot slips on the one-inch foot hold while spread eagle around a boulder 1000’ up.  No thank you.

But it was a fundraiser, after all.  And I believe my team of ten people raised over 1000 Pounds, so it was, all things considered, a success.  We didn’t die, and homeless youth will gain from it.

of Rocks and Trust

I felt more adventurous in Montana last March than I had I felt in months.  Mountains, snowmobiles, snowboards and loads of snow – how could I not?  So when an email arrived in my inbox from a friend here in St Andrews, asking if I’d be interested in taking her husband Alan’s spot in a hike this June in Scotland as part of a fundraiser, I said “Sure!  Why not?”  I like hiking.  And Scotland.  And fundraisers.  Ok, more the first two than the third one.  But they came as a package in this particular email. 

Well, I’ve returned to Scotland and to my desk, the books and the library.  The snow, snowmobiles and boards are long gone, and with them has fled my sense of adventure—at least for this adventure.  Little did I know what I was agreeing to last March when I felt oh-so-confident in myself.  Now I know.  And I’m freaking out.

Here’s what I agreed to do: be a part of a team of four people who summit three peaks, Sgurr nana Gillean, Am Bastier and Bruach na Frithe, all considered the North Cuillins on the Isle of Skye.  All three look something like this…

 

Just for the record, ‘Am Bastier,’ means, “The Executioner.”

Narrow, jagged cliffs, sometimes less than a meter wide and dropping hundreds of meters down to the rock fields below.  Ledges, steep scree fields, nerve racking scrambles… all providing jaw dropping views—assuming, that is, that you yourself don’t drop off first.  Internet sites say these are three of the tallest peaks in Scotland and two of the most difficult to climb peaks in Scotland.  Put the two together and what do you get?  Near death.  Stupidity.  Me on June 17, 2012. 

This picture makes it look insane, but really, I don’t think it is – at least not totally.  I have read plenty of blogs about peoples’ adventures while hiking this ridge and they all seemed to survive just fine.  In fact, one woman wrote about how her Corgi hiked it with her.  Never mind that many of the blogs end their description of their hike with something like, “Have fun.  Be careful.  Don’t die.  Some have.”  Check.

Did I mention that this is a fundraiser?  That should make it worth the risk, right?  Charity events are huge over here.  Nearly every day there are students selling baked goods for charity outside of the library, or people walking through pubs with a “coin can” asking for spare change for charity.  The other week there was a “Chariots of Fire Fun Run” on West Sands beach raising money.  Charity shops line the streets (think very small Goodwills) and churches are constantly having charity fundraiser “coffee mornings.” 

Here’s a bit about the charity, The Rock Trust, that is putting on this mountain climbing fundraiser:  “The Rock Trust aims to prevent youth homelessness and to support young people to build better futures.  We work across Edinburgh and the Lothians with young people aged 14-25 who are homeless or at risk of becoming homeless, this includes young people who are in transitions, do not have sufficient support systems, are leaving care or home, those involved in offending, alcohol or drug misuse. Our role is to advise, educate and support young people to enable them to build the personal skills and resources required to make a positive and healthy transition to adulthood whilst avoiding or moving on from homelessness.”

And here is where I come in:  “On the weekend of the 16th and 17th of June 2012 we plan to have every one of Scotland’s 283 Munro's (a mountain over 3,000ft) climbed by supporters of The Rock Trust. Each walker (their word for ‘hiker’) will take on the challenge as a sponsored event and we hope to raise enough funds to allow us to purchase a new supported unit (a training center of sorts) - so that many young people in the years ahead will have a chance to learn the skills required to lead a fully independent life, and one full of hope for the future.”

So on June 16th and 17th I’ll be putting my neck out (or up rather… just hopefully not over) to support this fundraiser.  Hundreds of people will be hiking Scotland that weekend, which happens to be the weekend nearest to the summer solstice and the longest day of the year.  This far north that translates into a whole lot of daylight. 

Would you consider supporting this effort?   By clicking HERE you’ll go to a more full description of my larger team and what we’ll each be hiking that weekend.  In the description, my name is Alan.

Scotticism: Crawsteps

You may have seen these in some of your travels around the world, but they are a traditional Scottish form of architecture.  They are crawsteps, or crowsteps in other parts of Britain.  Craw is the Scots form of the English crow.  The gable walls of many of the old houses and buildings here are lined with crawsteps, often leading to a chimney stack. 

Below is Edgecliff, the philosophy building of the University. 

Dry-stane Dykes

In many ways, Scotland is not much different than the United States.  The majority of people are above the poverty line, we share western clothing and music, English as a first language, most foods and daily life routines.  There are, of course, subtle differences within each of these similarities, but they are certainly more similar than say the cultures of China or India.  And yet, it’s the subtle differences that I find fascinating here – differences that I can thoroughly enjoy because they are not so different that they become uncomfortable.  Some of the differences are claimed by the entire United Kingdom, some only between England and Scotland, or Scotland and Ireland.  And many are particular to Scotland.  These are the differences that Scottish people never think twice about, but which make life as a fellow westerner here, well… fun. 

I want to introduce a series of Scotticisms – words or phrases that I encounter regularly, whether verbally or visually.  Each Scotticism will feature its own post, so that pictures can be attached and you can literally “see what I mean.” 



For this first Scotticism, let me introduce you to 'dry-stane dyking.’  You know what a dyke is, a wall built out of stone either to serve usually as a fence in a field (as you might see in New England) or even more popular here in the coastal communities of Scotland, as an actual water dyke, constructed to create a calm harbor on the sea.  Here in Scotland though, it’s dry-stane (i.e. dry stone) dykes – stones placed in a jigsaw pattern and held together without mortar of any kind.  These certainly are not found only here in Scotland, but are certainly more popular here than in the majority of western countries.
  


In a Scots quotation from 1861 we read: ‘O Lord, Thoo is like a moose (mouse) in a dry-stane dyke – aye keekin oot (always peeping out) at us frae (from) holes … and we canna see Thee.’

As a verb, to dyke means to build or repair a dyke, and a man doing such work is a dyker. In 1921 someone was recognized as ‘the best dry-stane dyker in the shire o’Dumfries.’

According to some local Scots, creating dry-stane dykes is not just a practical necessity, but also a hobby.   Or perhaps the hobby isn’t creating, but enjoying.

of Shakespeare and Scotland

Have you ever been to a theater-in-the-round?  If you’re unfamiliar with the term, it’s a theater designed so that the audience sits 360 degrees around the stage located in the center of the room.  Most plays at such theaters have a greater sense of intimacy than those at traditional stage theaters as the audience is usually smaller in number and the props and staging are less technical or are often nonexistent.  If you enjoy going to plays, I highly recommend trying a theater-in-the-round!

But what I really recommend is going to a theater-in-the-round that is located not inside a building, but outside under the open sky, and if there happens to be one nearby, on the grounds of a castle nearly one thousand years old.  Totally doable!  The seats are replaced with grass green and thick, the stage is made of immovable stones older than America herself, the lights are naturally dimmed by the setting of the sun, and at points the events detailed in the script are imagined to take place on that exact historic stage on which your eyes are cast.  The performance arts don’t get any more romantic than this, friends. 

Some friends and I had the privilege of enjoying the performance of Shakespeare’s Macbeth this weekend at the historic St. Andrews Castle – or what’s left of it.  The castle is literally located one block behind my room.  Lucky me!  Originally built nearly one thousand years ago, the castle was the center of major battles during the Wars of Independence (1296-1357) between the Kingdom of Scotland and the Kingdom of England (think William Wallace), which left it in complete disrepair.  Having gained their independence, Scotland rebuilt the castle but only maintained its magnificence for a few hundred years, ultimately leaving it to fall to its ruin after the country turned from its Catholic heritage.  During those few years of glory, however, the castle housed Scottish kings, Catholic bishops and archbishops, and dignitaries from all over Europe on their journeys. 

But it still has its uses… like serving as a theater-in-the-round (even though the stage and seats are reversed)!

We were serenated pre-performance by a piper on the top deck. 

  Below is Lady Macbeth before she goes mad.

Below is Lady Macbeth and her husband, both completely stricken with post-murder madness. 

You’ll notice the hats and hoods in the pictures, but what you don’t see are the sleeping bags, blankets, layers upon layers, flasks filled with warming powers, umbrellas (just in case), gloves, and warm bodies snuggled together.  The play began at dusk and ended under the umbrella of darkness and twinkling stars.  It was a bit chilly, but worth every moment! 

One element I was unaware of until after the play was that Macduff, the man who ultimately murders Macbeth in the end was what was called a “Thane of Fife,” which meant that there was a good chance he lived in one of the few castles in Fife (Fife is equivalent to a state in the US – so I live in St. Andrews, Fife), namely St. Andrews Castle! 

What is really interesting is that there is a scene in the play where Macbeth orders Macduff’s wife and children to be murdered while he is away in England.  If it did happen that Macduff and his family lived in St. Andrews Castle, then the scene written into the play that we saw acted last night would have been imagined to happen on these very grounds!

And for your viewing pleasure, here’s a clip of the final scene – the fight between Macduff and Macbeth.  It’s an incredibly cheesy fight scene! 

I do love this quirky town.  So when are you going to come enjoy it with me?