Silver City

On Monday night I finally flew in (boy, are my arms tired) from the UK, after a second week of traveling. It's good to be back among the familiar. There's still plenty of trip diaries to post, which I didn't want to post en route because there was no way to get pictures off the camera, and a post without a pic is like a cone without ice cream. (Or a cone without a stick of Flake chocolate. Mmm, ice cream.)

From London I made my way to Scotland, to meet up with a friend for a few days. By this time London had grown rainy, and so was Aberdeen. Our pilot informed us though that, happily, we'd have some brightness at 30,000ft of cruising altitude before "descending into the murk" again.


The plane was a tiny jet (pre-boarding announcement went something to the effect of "Ladies and gentlemen, we'll be travelling today on the smallest plane in existence, so upon boarding any hand luggage larger than a small handbag will be chucked over the side."), so my seat was both an aisle and a window. Score. Plenty of elbow room to keep working on Smart Capitals #1 (with a Roast Chicken & mayo sandwich from Costa. I thought the one from Boots is nicer).

Upon arrival I was excited to meet up with Laura and get on with 2 days of just plain relaxing and hanging out. The weather cooperated as far as giving us lots of grey and rain to drive us inside, but we managed a good afternoon of sightseeing Aberdeen. Like the Mercat cross, in town:


The guidebooks call Aberdeen the Silver City, or Granite City, because so many of the buildings are made of granite. (Laura also informs me this means Aberdonians are exposed to more radioactivity than your average nuclear power plant employee.) So this gives it two options: (a) grey, grey, OMG grey, and more grey, or (b) a sparkling paradise alight with the glow of a million fragments of mica. Honestly, it was an interesting change from the London sights, and really a distinct city-scape.


Among the more distinct was Marischal College, all cool and spiky:


And Provost Skeine's house, a historical site that also hosts rotating exhibits about the city and Scottish history.


And even William Wallace knows how to preen for the camera:


Over two nights that could easiy have been stretched to more, we hunkered in like the silly fangirls we are and had a blast. Along the way the hourglass pullover grew all the way to the armholes, and part of a sleeve. (Pics of that still to come.)

And just as I had to leave, the sun started to come out. Boo. Which means there's always more, for next time.