They went mainly to Scotland, home of Janice's Campbell ancestors. Below a hilarious letter she wrote to me upon returning, and the long letter she wrote to her parents....on a roll of British toilet paper, no less!
Watercolor of the Trossochs
Monday Aug 1973
Hi Gang!
That was a great letter your last. The color separation enclosure got a lot of attention too.
We’ve been back for over a week now, and we didn’t have any trouble getting back into the groove (rut?)
I’m writing this on my steering-wheel while I wait for Phil + Harry to put in their time at the Elmsford Raceway. This is the first really nice day we’ve had here in month. Sunny + breezy, quite liveable. Lately it’s been very hot + sticky. Scotland spoiled us – we wore jackets constantly + no sweat. I guess swimming types would not enjoy this. There were kids in the surf, but I gather this is an experience that could be classified as brau + bricht, well brau anyway. Not so bricht.
We wouldn’t mind being banished to Scotland. It would take me a while to get so I could cross streets in the cities. Unlike Californians, British drivers deem to speed up when they see a hapless pedestrian set foot off the curb. You think you’ve looked every wrong-way possible, eliminated all the odds, start across, + one of the little monsters makes a sudden U-turn + is upon you. Or, what you thought was the back of a bus turns out to be the front + is roaring at you. In spite of the narrow roads + the quality of caravans on them (trailers) there is a surprising shortage of fender-benders. We saw only one in the two weeks (probably an American).
We spent the first four days in London, a lot of it in the art museums. Also went with two tourist busses to Windsor Castle, Hampton House, Warwick Castle, Shakespeare’s birthplace (first patchwork wood floor I ever saw), Ann Hathaway’s cottage, Oxford University, the Cotswolds + all. This was thatched roof country. You learn more with a group, but you don’t get a chance to explore much. Took a boat trip down the Thames to Greenwich. Went aboard the Cutty Sark + saw Frances Chichester’s boat, the Gypsy Moth. Went through part of Wesminster Abbey. Listened to some of the famous Hyde Park soap-box orators. (great!) Strolled along about a mile of sidewalk art exhibit. You couldn’t tell it from one of ours. Watched a cricket game on telly, were swallowed up by Piccadilly Circus + the underground, which is what they call the subways. We were impressed with the feeling of safety you have walking anywhere, even at night. The tabloids + the telly keep informing us of gruesome murders but these seem limited to relatives + acquaintances. The only police you see are directing traffic. We did, however, see one hawker being hustled away after helping load his own wares into the back of the paddy-wagon.
We took the train to Scotland, meanwhile engaging in a furious disagreement with the Conductor about our fares, which Norm eventually won.
Edinburgh is a lovely city, ancient, fascinating, friendly, cheaper to eat in than London, also better. The travel agency had booked us into the most expensive hotel. So we got on the road in short order, renting a Vauxhall Viva. We had intended to get an automatic, but they cost L10 (about $30-) so we got a regular. Norm hadn’t shifted in twenty years, but he got to it. (What a beating these rented cars take from us) Only twice did he start up the wrong side of the road. Passing caravans on the narrow roads scared us the most. We know why so many people rent these things (caravans) – there’s a screaming shortage of tourist accommodations. We were lucky to get bed + breakfast ‘places all but one night, when we slept in the car near Inverrary. Had lots of company until they locked the public toilet, then, one by one, the cars left, all but a few of us. I assume they went back to Glasgow.
Bed + Breakfast is a great institution. They hang a sign out, which they take in when they’re full. Our favorite was a young couple in Arbroath, a seaside village on the East coast. They had two little kids + she was making raspberry jam when we arrived. We were on foot, so he piled us into his clunky little car full of kid’s shoes + rubber duckies and drove us the mile or so to our car + led the way back. They were fun to talk to – we think he must be a teacher – he also plays bass fiddle. Their name is Elder. All these places give you tea + cakes at 4:30 and a huge breakfast. Charge is L1.50 or about $3- per head.
We stopped briefly in Aberdeen. Bought a coke there that was so bubbly that I could barely get it down. You keep swallowing + it just goes farther up your nose. Every building in that part of Scotland is constructed of granite blocks, which makes for a sturdiness, but detracts from the charm, I think. We inspected some new houses that were going up, and they were fronted with artificial granite blocks. You seldom see a wooden building in Britain. An occasional shed, and trim on exteriors.
Watercolor of Ross-Cromarty
We must have gone through ten castles, in various stages of abandonment + disrepair. Castle Campbell was more comfortable looking than most. The stairs were more climbable and there were toilet seats. For some reason it was once called Castle Gloom. Probably referred to the occupants. It was built by a chap called Archibald the Grim. We took a picture of his portrait and happened to visit his tomb in Edinburgh.
One of the guides we had in London reminded me of Jon Nielsen. He was full of information, and one of the things he said was that we’d better not tell the Scots that I’m of the Clan Campbell, “they hate ‘em”. I think he exaggerated, but I did have trouble finding anything in a Campbell plaid. Finally got a necktie. Had to get Boo’s (Candace Winter) kilt in Buchanan plaid. The Campbell’s reputation stemmed largely from their war-making prowess, which occasioned the famous slaughter of the MacDonalds at Glencoe. According to my Clan Book, there were other troops ready to back them up, but there was no need for them. The whole thing was not the Campbell’s idea – it was part of the Master Plan, but they happened to get there first, and their’s is the fame. We visited the place where it happened, and as we approached, saw a rainbow bridging the glen. It’s called “the Vale of the Weeping”. I got out and chased sheep at this point.
We didn’t see enough of the moors, natives try to steer you away form these (“nothing there, mon”) but it’s an austere beauty, sorta great in its hopelessness. I read up on why nothing grows there but moss, heather and bracken. They are in places the famous peat bog.
The Trossachs are popular with the Scots, they are like the Catskills, only lumpier, and more lichen-covered. Did you ever wonder about these flat-looking unbelievable trees in Constable’s landscapes? That’s the way they are. The gray-silver lichens grow all the way to the top branches. Another phenomenon we puzzled about was trees, large old ones growing right out of the top of stone walls.
Also saw a small version of Stonehenge, another unsolved mystery near Aberdeen.
We picked up a hitch hiking couple, and gave them a hundred miles + half of our lunch. The guy was very tall + had some difficulty folding into the back seat. Just before this, I had found a horse-shoe.
We loved fish + chips and a thing called Smokies that they make only in Abroath. I even had fish for breakfast wherever possible.
Ten days is an ideal time to spend anywhere. That’s the point at which you begin to wonder what’s going on back home. The travel agencies must know this, so they make it $200- cheaper on your fare to say fourteen days – by that time you don’t care what’s going on back home. It’s cheaper to get to stay 21 days.
Meanwhile, back at 11 Secor, Don had once more been smashed in the back of the Pinto when he stopped for a school bus letting off kids. Philip said that the car looked as if it had been folded up + unfolded half way. It’s being fixed, but they’re selling it + have gotten a new one like mine only bigger, and the color of cream-of-tomato soup. Don has been having neck trouble, headaches and is wearing a neck brace. I was surprised to hear that the new car fits into the garage. It’s l-o-o-o-o-o-ng.
So, meanwhile, back in Scotland, we were winding up our visit. Stayed in a hotel in Glasgow which is not thrilling as Edinburgh + even traffickier. Then went south to Ayr, a smaller + nicer resort town, where we stayed in a more modest hotel over night, before which we visited Culzean Castle, swore that it would be our last (it was the fanciest, designed, right down to the furnishings + the grounds by a famous architect, Robert Adam). By this time it had started to rain, and in spite of our resolution, we stopped at one more ruin, and Abbey called Crossraguel. In this abbey there were two chapels left standing by the Reformation-wreckers, and in the smaller of these we noticed a resonance to our voices. As we were alone at the time, we started to sing. Would you believe, two tone-deaf singers with leaden voices sounding like a heavenly choir? We did, to us, anyway. Really hated to leave. I strongly recommend a stop here to anybody on their way to or from Prestwick Airport.
The climate in your part of the world (she means San Francisco) is not too different from Scotland. We saw at times a very similar fog flapping around the tops of the Bens and unrolling down the glens + glancing off the braes.
Your Oregon visit sounded nice. We’d love to live in Washington. How do people up there feel about retirees?
Another thing we noticed in Scotland was the absence of fat people. The old folks (+ young) are all beautifully bony. We wouldn’t mind spending our reclining years in such a place. There are boating opportunities. I tried painting with some good watercolors we picked up at Windsor Newton in London, but they are not of the best (the results, that is).
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Well, well. I forgot to write on this side –
Two things they don’t furnish you with in Britain are paper napkins in the restaurants + wash cloths even in the best hotels. (they do give you cloth dinner napkins) You can’t get tea with or even after your dinner (in most places). They always bring the coffee after everything is cleared away, and even in an Indian restaurant where some friend’s of Norm’s took us for dinner, no tea was available. They’ve converted to coffee.
You were born, Cookie at 5:15 AM
Saturday, July 3-1948 in the Beth-David Hospital, Manhattan – Auntie Alice did your horoscope once, but I long ago mislaid it.
Love, Ma
Thanx for the recipie. I’m collecting a Cookie Cook Book.
Our slides from the trip are back. (Nancy yawns every time we mention it)
Tuesday Aug 7, 1973
Dear Folks,
We’re back on native soil! None the worse, except that I wake up at an ungodly hour and can’t go back to sleep. Will now take advantage of this quirk. (It’s gotten to be 7:00 AM)
We’ll hafta descend upon you with pictures and details but I can point out here a few of the things that impressed us. For example, you see here the lovely FREE dismal-type writing paper provided in most public toilets. (You’d better carry a roll of your own.)
It was drizzling slightly when we arrived in London and I didn’t feel really there until the airport bus deposited us at Victoria Station and we got one of the ubiquitous black cabs to take us to Brown’s Hotel. This was a lovely old-fashioned establishment, the employees of which were very helpful to us in planning our tours.
We indulged in two bus tours while there, one to Windsor Castle + Hampton House, and one through the Cotswolds, Shakespeare’s birthplace, Oxford University, Ann Hathaway’s house + Warwick Castle. These tours, though unfortunately, pack you in + rush you through, so that you sometimes don’t get the feel of it. On our own, we took a boat ride down the Thames to Greenwich + looked over the Cutty Sark. I think I enjoyed most stopping by Hyde Park and watching the orators. We got some pictures of these. I recall especially one hawk-nosed Communist, who fixed us with his gimlet eye as he leaned out + gestured wildly from his harangue-platform with ladder + wheels. We couldn’t understand most of what was said in Cockney, but he was scoring with his audience.
We took the train to Edinburgh which would have been nice except for a horrible disagreement we had with the Conductor over our fare. (Norm finally won) Edinburgh is my kind of city. Old, dirty, historical, friendly, hilly, just comfortable.
Of course it would take more time than we could spend to get to feel safe crossing streets with traffic coming at you from the wrong direction. I was terrified. You look eight ways, start across, and what you thought was the back of a bus turns out to be the front and bears down on you at close range. Glasgow was the worst in that respect, I thought.
On our third day in Edinburgh we hired a car, a shift one because an automatic would have cost $30- more, and I leave to our imagination the adjustment involved in driving a car with a shift (the last car Norm shifted, I guess, was his Model A) and remembering to stay on the left. Anyway, we made it, and only twice did he slip + both times there was luckily nobody there. We say only one slight fender-bender on the whole trip, in spite of the narrowness of the roads, the droves of tourists, and the number of trailers on the road (they call them caravans). We concluded that in a small car you’re more careful; all cars there are small, except for the very occasional Rolls Royce.
(Back in London, we had dinner in an Indian Restaurant with a couple Norm knows. They have a cute little apartment that was once a stable or garage)
We really enjoyed Scotland. Stayed mostly at bed + breakfast places, private homes that is, and they do very well by travelers, and reasonable! We saw many castles in all states of repair + disrepair, Gardens all over. Leith hall was the only rock garden, and not worth going out of our way for (I thought you some seeds from it, also a piece of Castle Campbell [which was lying loose]). The roses were beyond belief. Every house had front yard flower beds that were solid color. There’s not much shade anywhere, and you don’t need it as it never gets very hot in the sun. The Black Isle (Ross + Cromarty) was the farthest north we got and a lovely place. Inveraray Castle we saw from the outside, but didn’t wait for it to open. That was the night we had slept in the car because there were more tourists than accommodations. We drove through the Vale of Weeping at Glencoe, where the Campbell-Macdonald bash took place. As we approached, the scene was bridged by a beautiful rainbow. I hope the picture of this comes through.
We would like to have seen more of the moors. Natives direct you away from these. They prefer the Trossachs, which were nice but Catskillian. Trees are covered there with a light gray lichen, which gives them a ghostly look. I never believed those Constable landscapes until now.
We saw some lovely glens, and heather-covered braes. Also bens + lochs, and a’that. The route was from Glascow, up the east coast via Arbroath to Aberdeen, inland via Inverurie to Inverness, to Black Isle, Rosemarkie, then south along Loch Ness, out thru the glens + moors to Inverrary, then thru Sterling via Loch Lomond’s top end, + around to the Trossachs where we stayed in an elegant hotel for a change. Then via Castle Campbell + around to Glasgow. Out of there (finally started to drizzle in earnest) via Hamilton, to the west coast, stayed at Ayr, saw a last castle – a ruined abbey, + flew home
Those who know say we were lucky with the weather. Fog stopped us from seeing the top of Ben Nevis, + we had a few sprinkles in England, but otherwise sunny + nice.
It’s good to be back with the gang. They’ve all survived, but Don could be better. He has had another rear-end accident with the Pinto, this time it’s almost totaled. He stopped for a school-bus letting off kids, and a 17-year old in a borrowed car rammed into him. He’s having neck trouble + headaches + is being fitted to a neck brace today. Has been out of work but hopes to go back tomorrow. Mudge will have to drive him to New Rochelle + pick him up. He seems to be jinxed where cars are concerned.
Boo is here. She will draw you a picture.
Yesterday seven truckloads of huge heavy rocks + dirt were dumped into the woods next to us. Somebody named Jerry Goldgraben is building a house there. We can’t imagine what will become of all those rocks. I hope they plan to rock-garden. There will be a large scale slaughter of dogwood trees. Good thing Norm was home (still on vacation and he brought up several loads of dogwoods – dirt + a little dogwood that were in the way of the boulders.
Well, that’s enough of that. We must see you and fill in the rest. One thing that impressed me wherever we went was the feeling of safety + well-being. I don’t think we say one policeman after leaving Edinburgh and maybe two there directing traffic. There is no fear of mugging + robbery like here. You can walk anywhere, even at night. And the climate is really to my liking. One could live to be old there. Old folks don’t mind so much being old folks – you never see dyed hair + you get a feeling that they are doing their thing + being respected for it. I also noticed very few fat people in the highlands. Also very few pants suits on ladies. Another thing they never do is give you paper napkins in restaurants, and even in London, no washcloths in the hotels. We brought our own – as I’ve married a seasoned traveler. It was his first time in Scotland, though.
I must cut out a dress for Nancy, whose jon is going well. Two days a week paste-up, well paid.
Hope all’s well with you.
love, J.
