Lady Adventure

Scotland, for the brave

Hello, readers!
Or: Och aye the noo!
which is what non-Scottish people presume Scottish people say all the time, the same way all Irish people like to wear green breeches and holler "Top o' the mornin' to ye!" at unsuspecting strangers. As the latter is sadly not true (though my comely calves would look very fetching in a pair of breeches), I have to come to terms with the idea that no one in Scotland will be enquiring about my noo.

Yes, that's right - I'm off to Scotland for a week! You might remember hand-rubbing anticipation at the thought of being amongst my Celtic homies, - well, the time has come for me to pack my suitcase and usher forty young German adults on to a bus bound for Edinburgh. Being a teacher-slash-chaperone-slash-babysitter-slash-substitute-mother for a group of students is not my idea of a holiday, so don't envy me ... too much. My preparation for this trip has sadly been very limited: I've been working hard, so I've only managed to dip in and out of my guidebook. I did, however, finish Outlander (yes, we talked about this already). Thus, I must conclude that one of two things will happen in Scotland:

a) I will simply escort giddy teens around sights of historical interest, or,
b) based on my reading of Outlander, I will be transported back in time to the 18th century, where I shall meet, marry and instruct a handsome young Scot in the Art of Lurve. Awed by my amazing Kama Sutra skillz, he will fall desperately in love with me and we will discover we're soulmates.

I have, of course, informed my present soulmate about the possibility of his wife time-travelling and ending up in a bigamous marriage with a fellow Celt - he is strangely unmoved at the prospect. In addition, my stress at work has deterred me from actually studying any last-minute Kama Sutra moves, so my skill-level remains rather lacking. In fact, I find that the primary requirement for this kind of thing is a level of bendiness that I simply do not possess - I can't even touch my toes. Thus, I sincerely hope that my future Scottish husband-in-the-past isn't expecting me to put my ankles behind my ears in the bed-chamber. Or whatnot. My hips aren't able for that.

How did I get to this point?
Oh, yes - Scotland.
As you all know by now, Very Bad Things happen when I travel - I personally caused a volcanic eruption last April, severe blizzards at Christmas and a tsunami, earthquake and nuclear meltdown in March. Please brace yourselves. I reckon this time it might be an alien invasion.