Then the city of Edinburgh, whose magnificence stunned me from the moment I saw it. There is something so majestic about the place that no matter how many times I left Charlotte Square for another tour of the city, it was always an exciting, fresh experience.
I loved it all and happily explored the lesser known areas while the students enjoyed shopping breaks, buying vast amounts of shortbread in tartan patterned tins, complete with pictures of Robert Burns on the lids, as presents for their mothers.
The Castle, the Royal Mile, Greyfriars Bobby, Holyrood Palace; I had begun to feel very much at home here, being a frequent visitor to so many fascinating places.
Mary Queen of Scots had become something of an obsession and Antonia Fraser’s wonderful book was just the right reading for a romantically minded tour guide.
Fotheringhay, Lochleven, Inverness; the names were like old friends to me. What amazing good fortune found me in so many historic places, walking in the footsteps of Queen Mary? It all astonishes me, even now, all these years later.
As well as visiting the palaces and castles, following the lives of many historical figures, I was welcomed into some enchanting private houses, met some special people, the owners and the guides, who truly care about the past, people who work so hard to preserve history for future generations.
I have travelled a lot since then, but that part of Scotland remains special. My memories are of a thoroughly magical place. The mountains; huge, rugged and wild, where the Monarchs of the Glen live. The lochs; mysterious, secretive places. The purple heather covered hills where lone pipers play. A magic land.
I live now in southwest France, near the Pyrénées,where the surrounding countryside is well, wild. It is from here that I contribute to various journals and magazines, and am, of course, in the process of writing a book, or three.
However, much more importantly, I keep up a lively correspondence - of which I am without doubt the beneficiary — with one very special, senior woman.
My Scottish cousin and wise woman; the splendidly named Pearl Brodie, whose mother once gave me a Scottish Kilt.
©2010 Jane Shortall for SeniorWomen.com
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