A Trip to Scotland Part 5 of 6 by KimB

[Editor's note: This is a many part story by KimB.
The series will be published weekly.]

The train ride to Edinburgh was relatively uneventful and I arrived at the train station in good form. I made it to the Hostel and this time I had the British Pounds to pay the room fare for several days.

Edinburgh is unlike Glasgow in so many ways. It is a beautiful city and everywhere you look history has marked the streets and alleys. Nothing there in not important. The layout of the city, the great castle at the center, the shops along the streets and avenues everything has something of interest to see or learn about.

I spent one day wandering around the town and passed by many shops. I ended up walking down “kilt row” where every shop sold kilts. I went into one and learned quite a bit about kilts. First you have to belong to a Clan to have one. If you don't have a Clan, you can be assigned one and then you can wear a kilt. You cannot wear just any colored kilt only the one from your own Clan as each Clan has its own color and pattern. And kilts are for men, women wear plaid skirts with their Clan Colors.

I passed by a Scottish Bakery where I went in to look at what they had on offer. Of course the French have wonderful pastries and I wanted to see what they had at a Scottish shop. I talked to the clerk about what everything was. I asked if they had a “Bal More Al Cake” or had they heard of one? No, they had never heard of such a cake but they did have some Short Bread Cookies and I can safely say those were WONDERFUL!

I went to the Tourist Bureau and asked a nice lady there if she could help me find someone who had Airedale Terriers for sale. She said she'd never been asked that before but she'd give it a go. She'd need several hours to find out anything and to come back later.

I continued to wander around the town and I saw two Scottish Police Officers on horseback. It was a wonderful sight and I wish American Mounted Officers would spend some time checking out how they do it in Europe. These were not only Policemen but Horsemen too. They had HUGE horses and they trotted smartly down the lane. I watched until they were out of sight wishing our American Officers could look half as good and still get the job done. One thing about the Europeans and their horses, they've been working on them for a lot longer than we have and they know a whole lot more than we do too. Only our American Hubris keeps us from learning there are better ways to get things done.

I went back to the Tourist Bureau and the lady waved excitedly, “I found someone!” she said as I approached. She gave me the name of the person but then things got a bit mixed up. The paper said: “Jimmy Grey Newcastle upon Tyne”. There were some numbers after that. She said they were the phone number and I could call from the box outside on the square. I had heard of Newcastle but there was no address. She said just call Jimmy Grey and he'd give me directions. So I went out to the square where the red phone box was.

Phones are mysterious no matter what and in those days there were no cell phones or text messaging. In France, I had to go to the Post Office to make a phone call or send a telegram. No one had a phone in their home. The horror stories about using the French phones were amusing vignettes passed around the dinner table there. I was quite suspicious of the Red Phone and I was not disappointed. The directions were simple: Dial the Number, Put the money in when it goes “beep”. What they neglected to mention is that there are quite a few different “beeps” and I must have stuffed a small fortune in the coin slot at the wrong “beep”.

At last I got Jimmy Grey on the phone and instantly we had a problem. I couldn't understand anything he said.

I kept repeating: “Do you have Airedales for sale?” “Can I come to buy one?” “Where to do I go?”

His answers were: “Yes. Yes. Peter Lee Horton Newcastle on Tyne”.

“Who is Peter Lee? Where are you?” I kept asking.

“Jimmy Grey Peter Lee Horton Newcastle on Tyne. Take the 3 o'clock bus and I'll meet you at the depot.”

The Tourist Bureau Lady gave me directions to the bus depot and I raced to collect my gear from the Hostel and got on the 3 o'clock bus to Newcastle. I had my bag, my guitar and was on my way to buy a dog but I had no idea where I was going.