From Christmas to a Castle

Christmas dinner was a large success. In spite of the morning stress that resulted from Tom cutting his finger while chopping parsnips to Tom’s brother shattering a specially aged bottle of wine, we had a wonderfully indulgent meal. After disposing of the hoards of wrapping paper we all tore off various presents, we sat down to a turkey feast. The small gifts inside of our Christmas crackers included a kite, corkscrew, tape measure, miniature screwdrivers, and nail clippers. We all chose which gifts we wanted to keep based on who could get the most use out of each. Believe me, it was not a very cutthroat deliberation. I simply wanted the kite because I envisioned flying the small thing somewhere in the English countryside! I faced no objections.

            On Boxing Day, Tom took me to the largest, most intact part of Hadrian’s Wall, at Housesteads. The wind was howling and the sky was dark. But the crappy weather merely made me feel more like the Roman soldiers must have while hiding behind the walls of their camp. While intriguing to stand atop the site of the historic Roman battle camp, I would not have been able to distinguish the granary from the latrines, had the small signs not been put in place on the ruined stones. And to squeeze in one more tourist event while up north, today I explored Bamburgh Castle. In the way that Edinburgh is pronounced, do not be fooled by the ‘gh’ at the end, because where I was today is sounded out “bamburuh.” The drive took about an hour, during which the ever-so-British towns I encountered amused me. We passed signs for Morpeth, Gosforth, Shilbottle, Alnwick, and Jedburgh (which, you guessed it, is pronounced differently from the way it’s spelled). Tom and I spent about two hours on the grounds of Bamburgh Castle, right up until we were forced off of the property because the guard was locking the gate. The staterooms were beautiful and I really enjoyed seeing the intense armory the castle contained. Although I kept my eyes and ears out for the famous ghosts of The Pink Lady and Dr. John Sharp, my search was futile. I guess really hoping to see a ghost is not enough to conjure one up. Anyway, I finished off the journey with a pint of Aspall’s cider at a local pub, fittingly named “The Castle Inn.” However, I was a bit thrown off when the menu displayed the terms “chips” and “fries” interchangeably on different pages. That is completely contradictory of this establishment and I am offended that the staff did not stand their ground and decide to use one term throughout! Regardless, the chips/fries were crispy, the crisps were crunchy, and the BLT was delicious.