Arisaig remembered
Sep. 24th, 2006 06:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ashetlandponySeventeen years ago today, September 24, 1989, I just happened to be in the seaside village of Arisaig, in the West Highlands of Scotland.
I had been in Arisaig before, 15 years previous to that, in September 1974. On that first visit, my mom, her cousin and I stayed there overnight in a very cozy bed & breakfast in a real Scottish farm croft.
That night we had a fascinating discussion with the Pringles who ran the b&b. I thought it was remarkable how knowledgeable this older farm couple in rural Scotland were about the broader world, and American politics in particular. They were extraordinarily well-informed, incisive, witty people. I was also impressed by how genuinely welcoming and hospitable our hosts were. For that one night, that warm little croft was truly Home. The thing I remembered most about the house itself was my upstairs bedroom. The ceiling was just barely over 6 feet high, so it grazed my hair as I walked around, and I actually had to stoop a little to get in and out the door!
During our visit, Mom took this picture of me under the Pringles' apple tree.
Then she took a picture of the hayfied in front of the croft (enlarged behind the cut).
Compare this with the same scene on September 24, 1989:
The little pine trees at the left of the field had gotten quite large! Trees across the road had also grown quite a bit. (Streetlights now, too.) The basic function of the Pringles' field had remained constant over the years, tho. Some things never change (thank goodness)...
When I returned to Arisaig in 1989, I really wanted to visit that little croft again. Walking up from the road, the neighbour lady next door was in her front yard, so I told her why I was there. I had brought with me the pictures I took in 1974, and the neighbour was thrilled to see how much I had clearly treasured the memories I had of our stay at her friends' b&b all those years ago. She regretted to tell me, however, that Mrs. Pringle had died 3 years before. What a shame, but she told me that Mr. Pringle still lived in the croft and that he was at home, but when I knocked on the door, he didn't answer. I was sad about that. I really would have liked to talk with Mr. Pringle and get some more pictures of the inside. Still, it was nice to see the old place again.
It's now been 17 years since I was in Britain. That's the longest period I've been away in my whole life. I know now I'll likely never see my beloved Scottish Highlands again. I don't have the money anymore to even think about travelling. All that's in the past now, I'm afraid...
*snif*
I had been in Arisaig before, 15 years previous to that, in September 1974. On that first visit, my mom, her cousin and I stayed there overnight in a very cozy bed & breakfast in a real Scottish farm croft.
That night we had a fascinating discussion with the Pringles who ran the b&b. I thought it was remarkable how knowledgeable this older farm couple in rural Scotland were about the broader world, and American politics in particular. They were extraordinarily well-informed, incisive, witty people. I was also impressed by how genuinely welcoming and hospitable our hosts were. For that one night, that warm little croft was truly Home. The thing I remembered most about the house itself was my upstairs bedroom. The ceiling was just barely over 6 feet high, so it grazed my hair as I walked around, and I actually had to stoop a little to get in and out the door!
During our visit, Mom took this picture of me under the Pringles' apple tree.
Then she took a picture of the hayfied in front of the croft (enlarged behind the cut).
Compare this with the same scene on September 24, 1989:
The little pine trees at the left of the field had gotten quite large! Trees across the road had also grown quite a bit. (Streetlights now, too.) The basic function of the Pringles' field had remained constant over the years, tho. Some things never change (thank goodness)...
When I returned to Arisaig in 1989, I really wanted to visit that little croft again. Walking up from the road, the neighbour lady next door was in her front yard, so I told her why I was there. I had brought with me the pictures I took in 1974, and the neighbour was thrilled to see how much I had clearly treasured the memories I had of our stay at her friends' b&b all those years ago. She regretted to tell me, however, that Mrs. Pringle had died 3 years before. What a shame, but she told me that Mr. Pringle still lived in the croft and that he was at home, but when I knocked on the door, he didn't answer. I was sad about that. I really would have liked to talk with Mr. Pringle and get some more pictures of the inside. Still, it was nice to see the old place again.
It's now been 17 years since I was in Britain. That's the longest period I've been away in my whole life. I know now I'll likely never see my beloved Scottish Highlands again. I don't have the money anymore to even think about travelling. All that's in the past now, I'm afraid...
*snif*
