We were still walking. Well, I call it walking. I was dragging along behind Prince Charming like one of my legs had gone dead. And have I mentioned the crying? 'Cause there was some. Prince Charming spotted a local man out walking his dog. Desperation set in and Prince Charming called out, "Hey, is there a pub around here?"
Yes, it sounded as though my beloved had decided to take up drinking. Not so, friends, not so. He was thinking pub = people = phone to call taxi.
The local man stared at us. (I'm trying not to remember what a sight I must have been.)
He said: "A pub?" He thought: "You idiots".
He said: "It's right down at the end of this road." He thought: "You complete idiots." Of course, he was right. I mean, doesn't everyone in this world know where the pub in Peebles, Scotland is? I thought so.
We hurried forward like men in a desert who have spotted an oasis. That is to say, we stumbled down the steep street and didn't see a pub. (Curses! Foiled again!) We walked over one more street and, lo and behold, there it was. A tiny door in a long wall of shops (all closed of course). I thought the pub was closed too, I mean, why wouldn't it be at this point? But Prince Charming pulled open the door and peeked in.
An angel in capris, shirt with rolled up sleeves and high heel sandals (OK, it was just a nice Scottish woman but by now anyone with a smile seemed angelic) bustled us into the back dining room. The front of the pub was full of mostly youngish men watching a soccer (hereafter: football) match on the telly and drinking it up.
"Oh, ye look dun in!" She said, showing us to a little table and pointing the way to the Ladies' and Gents. In the tiny
In short order we were well fed, rested up a bit and generally well cared for (and no, we didn't have anything stronger than water to drink, although, if I was ever going to take up drinking, this would have been the day!). The dining room was separated from the bar by a swinging door but we were never disturbed by the football fanatics (in other words, they were not very loud. Maybe they weren't winning?)
The nice lady had not only restored our faith in humanity, she called her "favorite taxi service" to drive us to our castle lodgings. Which begs the question whether she has a non-favorite taxi service but we were way too tired at this point to ask such a question. (By the by, I think we left this woman the best tip we gave anyone whilst on our trip. I would've given her every pound I had left, so it's best that Prince Charming handled that, considering we had three more days in Great Britain to live through.)
Then our own carriage (OK, bland little taxi) whisked us up to our castle and this was our room:
I don't know about you, but a room like this went a long way to restoring my spirit.Not to mention a tub like this:
So, despite a very trying day, we had a lovely evening and in the morning we got to see a view like this:
We ate a full Scottish Breakfast (Word to the wise: Haggis isn't that bad but avoid the blood pudding.)We walked around outside the castle while the hotel manager called our trusty taxi service again. Yes, I know, we were rested, it wasn't that far down the hill, the dogs would probably be inside, etc. Forget it. Prince Charming, smart man that he is, didn't even ask me if I wanted to try. Besides, we were dressed up (I had on my favorite dress) because we were on our way to Glasgow to go to church (Sunday night) with missionaries our home church supports.
This is from the castle, looking down at Peebles:
And this is Peebles (well, one corner of it): 
And here is the bus stop where we waited forty-five minutes for the Edinburgh bus: 
Why yes, I can read anywhere. We watched the people around us and peeked into the vestibule of a mostly empty church (it was Sunday morning) but mostly, we just sat and waited with everyone else.Then it was back to Edinburgh to catch the train for Glasgow where someone was supposed to meet us...
1. Radical Prunings. Fiction by Bonnie Thomas Abbott. Quick, easy read. This is one of those books I picked up at a library sale and hadn't read. It's now in my "to sell or trade" pile, if that tells you anything.
2. Homework for Grown-Ups. Non-fiction by E. Foley & B. Coates. I like to read refresher books like this every once in awhile. I was particularly glad that I could manage the math in this book, as math is, too put it mildly, not my strong suite. The English and Classics sections were both funny and useful, which is always a nice combination.
3. Rumpole Rests His Case. Fiction by John Mortimer. A series book about a British lawyer (Barrister?). Funny in a wry, sardonic way. Also now in the "to sell or trade" stack.
4. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Fiction by Mary Shaffer & Annie Barrows. Oh, my, 
5. The Pickwick Papers. Fiction by Charles Dickens. Hm, well, this is the first rung of my "Read All of Dickens in Publication Order" ladder. Memorable characters, less than memorable story. Was there a point to this? Only Mr. Dickens knows. I suspect it may have just been "because I can" or "and better yet, they'll pay me by the word!"
6. The Blue Tattoo: The Life of Olive Oatman. Nonfiction by Margot Mifflin. The true story of a pioneer girl whose family is massacred by Indians in the southwest. She lived among at least two different Indian tribes and was adopted into one, which is why she had distinctive tattoos on her chin and arms. After being rescued she had to adapt back into "civilized" society, where others tried to cash in on her story. Makes for painful but compelling reading.
7. Frankly, My Dear. Nonfiction by Molly Haskell about - what else? - Gone With the Wind. What can I say? I love GWTW and Vivien Leigh.
8. Tending the Heart of Virtue. Nonfiction by Vigen Guroian. I've seen this book discussed (and praised highly) elsewhere around the blogosphere. I think, for the purpose, I prefer William Kilpatrick's Books That Build Character.
