Day three. I am becoming very familiar with the girlfriend-in-law’s car. I have also begun using the words “reckon”, “boot” and “tosser” with some frequency.

After a quick breakfast at a cafe down the Grassmarket, we got on the road and aimed for Stirling. We figured we should see at least one castle while we’re here (well…beyond the one outside our window, which costs 12 quid and is lousy with tourists) and Stirling’s close, so that was that. After a few side road trips to see more sights we ended up in Stirling, and crawled up the hill to the castle. The brother managed to stifle his pathlogical refusal to pay for parking, and in we went.

The castle was…well, a castle. But the views were amazing, which is what I was after. From there you could see the ginormous William Wallace monument a few miles away. Once finished we consulted the pub guide for lunch, and found a place just north in Thornhill. Not a bad pub, but the food was just ok and we were definitely the youngest people there so we felt a bit out of place. Oh, and they had a bit of a malfunction with their radio, such that we and the octagenerians in the room listened to hardcore gangsta rap for about sixty seconds.

We then decided to get a closer look at the Wallace monument, but when we arrived it seemed so tourist-trappy that we opted not to take the shuttle to the top. Since Braveheart, this place has obviously become rather cheesy. A national hero, commoditized.

And so, with a quick stop in Culross on the way home, we crossed the Forth bridge and got back to the hotel. A quick beer with Nellie and the brother, and now I’m back here to relax for about half an hour. That, I believe, will be the longest such break we’ve had yet.

By the way, it’s barely 5:00 and the Grassmarket is already swarming with pissheads. One other note: it stays light here for a REALLY long time. Last night it didn’t get dark until about 10:00.