We missed our Saturday bus to Arbroath and debated hopping a random bus elsewhere, but the nearby shipyard looked as intriguing as any eeny-meeny-miney-mo spot on the map so we hoofed it through a new part of Aberdeen.
What did we find? Seedy sailor bars, giant chains with links as big as me, the F.D.Invincible making its way out to sea, and a whole pod of dolphins putting on a show in the bay.
The wind finally forced us inland to explore the unbelievably picturesque village of Footdee—actually an Aberdeen suburb, though it feels completely cut off from the giddy teenage crowds of Union Street and the yuppy professionals of Rosemount. Apparently no one locks their doors because they know their neighbours and no one ventures so far out.
We figured property values would be astronomical in this little enclave, but the next day we learned that the area is disadvantaged by the hordes of hookers you have to drive past after 5pm (along the quay) just to get home…
Sunday’s post church activities brought us to the Illicit Still for our first full Scottish breakfast with Iain, Suzanne and Stephen. Not only does this ritual involve such ridiculous foods as haggis and black pudding, they also ply you with liquids beyond any bladder’s capacity—included with your meal is complimentary orange juice, water, coffee and a pint of beer. That’s some breakfast.
Dr. Claire was recovering sleep lost to night shifts so our mission was to keep her hubby out of the house. Hence another trip to the beach!
Five of us and a Celtics football (which Northern Irish Stephen was mortified to be carrying) to the town of Balmedie where we played in a lopsided WWII pillbox and kicked around the football in the dunes and on the shore. Our friends seemed quite excited about finally making an appearance on the blog, and I couldn’t bear to let them down ;)
5 comments:
Cool pillbox!
how come i never get a credit for the pictures? ;)
whoops, they are not that good, never mind!
as always, loving your stories, amanda!
very cool pictures!
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