They say the sun never sets on the British Empire; well it never rises in Scotland.
That's an exaggeration. But we have hit that point in the year when it doesn't get light until around 7:40, it starts getting dark around 4:00, and it rains most of the time in between. I never really liked the sun that much anyway, as is apparent by looking at my complexion. I'd say it's fair.
Time in parliament is passing similarly and astonishingly quickly. Writing small pieces, reading about carbon and fish in preparation of writing my research project, organizing and starting work on the calendar Rob is sending to his constituents, attending meetings and debates, and otherwise generally assimilating. I'm pretty sure it's working; they think I'm one of them now.
Some news in Scottish politics since my last post: the Scottish Labour Party leader, Johann Lamont, stepped down as well as the deputy party leader UK-wide. Further proof that SNP is the way to be. Also, an act was passed that every shopping bag at stores now costs five pence in order to cut down on bags being used once and then sitting in trash heaps forever, which takes a toll on the environment. Apparently Scottish people like the Earth. The SNP conference is next weekend in Perth.
One of my friends and I went to the Scottish National Museum a couple weekends ago. Unfortunately, they had just closed the wing that holds Dolly, the first sheep to ever be cloned, and it won't be opened back up for several years. But the whole thing was highly interesting: there were artifacts from ancient peoples, natural history showing the physical formation of Scotland, old swords and such, and more modern pieces of history, including some photos from "Yes" rallies. One of the exhibits has an early version of the bassoon. I wanted to play it. The only thing separating us was protective glass and the lack of a reed.
Last weekend was Halloween. Halloween originated from the celtic new year and changing of the seasons, celebrated by the then-pagan residents of Scotland who believed that it was the day that the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was especially thin. So, to celebrate we went to Edinburgh's annual Samhuinn fire festival. It started out as a parade on the Royal Mile with people in robes painted up, carrying fire and playing drums and endes up at The Mound. The Mound is an open area with a raised "stage" by two of Edinburgh's biggest art museums where people can put on small performances. There, they performed a ceremony that included a lot of dancing, fire, drums, fighting, and people complaining that they couldn't see (there were about 10,000 people there). And, of course, it started pouring. We dressed up, a friend and I were Peter Pan and Wendy. I was Wendy.
I spent all of Guy Fawkes Day and Bonfire Night in the parliament building. I love the irony of that. Remember, remember the fifth of November...
This weekend I set off on another day trip. Destination: Slamannan. Although I'm sure you've all heard of an important place like Slamannan, I'll explain it to those ignorant few. Slamannan is a village about halfway between Edinburgh and Glasgow and to the north. It covers .19 square miles of land and has a population of roughly 1,400. Sounds glamorous, I know. But it is the village that my Nana (hi, Nana) heard stories about living in from her Scottish grandparents. So, naturally, I had to go.
One of my friends was nice enough to go with me. To get there we had to take a 34 minute train ride to Falkirk, a larger-sized town that we were planning on spending more time in, but the downpour of rain stopped us from walking to see any of the sites like the Falkirk Wheel or Kelpie statues. From there we had to walk to a bus stop and take an 18 minute bus that goes to Slamannan by way of Limerigg once an hour.
I wandered around and I'm pretty sure I covered most of the area. There wasn't much there besides houses and some abandoned-looking churches. There were some cattle off to one side, a local shop (the kind where you tell someone what you want and they take it down off the shelves behind the counter for you), a school, a creek, a graveyard, a few small eateries, and a WWI memorial. All of the people I asked directions from were helpful and nice. It was small, but I liked it.
I then spent an hour and a half or so wandering around Falkirk in the rain with my umbrella. The parts of the town that I saw were quite pretty and the elderly proprietor of a yarn shop that I dropped in on told me all about her grandsons.
In other news: My mother is a saint. She sent me a package last week that included three jars of peanut butter. One of which is already gone. I've gotten so much knitting done; the guy that works in the haberdashery that I get my yarn from now recognises me and remembers what projects I've been working on. While knitting I've started watching every episode of The Golden Girls from the very beginning. I am on the cutting edge of culture.
I am so ready for the Christmas season to start. They don't celebrate Thanksgiving here, so it goes straight from Halloween time to Christmas time. So excited. I've been listening to my Barry Manilow Christmas albums since 1 November. Truly the cutting edge of culture.
Now it's time for me to really start focusing on getting my research project on the road though, seeing as how half of my time in parliament has already escaped me. So that's this week's big task: make an outline or something.