Seventh of July

Ann of Norway Och and I spelt it wrong!! Tut tut! Have you seen Dunvegan Castle where she lived? perched there beside the roaring sea, the barnacles and limpets clinging to the mossy rocks of the bay and the old flag from -I don't remember when- but the one that was there when Bonnie Prince Charlie was around; faded and so delicate that if a wind should blow it up into the air it would disintegrate like a forgotten myth. Ah yes the romance of the past seeps through every mind of the Scot and colours their vision at times enough to evoke the scenes of past glories, as they ponder their castles and stone edifices that have withstood the teeth of time. Just look at dear Rosina she is such a one! Then mix her with some of Sir Geezer, not perhaps remotely Scottish but full of dreams of the knights of old and there you have epic tales unfolded not yet written! Oh what am I waffling on about? The gaunt fascinating beauty of Scotland is legendary, even the Romans baulked at the intensity of their character, as they were no match with their weapons and armour, they would come marching up the hills at other times dressed in their kilts of many colours playing the bagpipes, fair sounds to give their enemies the willies, the wail of their pipes echoing through the hills and over the gray lochs. Wild red hair and flying sashes, yes they are a proud race of man perhaps seasoned in no small degree by the Vikings who owned the whole of the West coast way back in history. I had better stop, you got me thinking and this is perhaps not the place to do just that, never mind glad to meet you Fleur of Australia, there you are exotic? Love Ann. And I live with a Dane!