The best laid schemes o' mice an' men

Scotland from overhead

My first kilt-in-the-wild sighting of the trip was at the gate in Amsterdam. It was one of the most anachronistic things I have ever seen. The guy wore scrunched-down long woolly socks, a tee shirt, headphones, and sneakers. Best of all, he was wearing a fur sporran. In the airport. 

Someone who has never been to Austin might be equally impressed to see someone in cowboy boots, hat, and jeans with a big buckle. I guess it really happens. I took a surreptitious photo by changing my phone to the wide-angle setting.

That was not the last kilt I saw yesterday, either. There were others on the streets in Glasgow, although they were much more traditionally styled than tee-shirt-airport-guy. 

Here are some miscellaneous photos for you...

A very comfortable bed

The view of the University of Strathclyde from my window.

A seagull sitting on her nest.

I slept for almost thirteen hours and then had the best cup of room coffee espresso imaginable. The machine takes tiny aluminum pods and makes a tasty, foamy little cup of wake-up juice. It's good that they only left me two, or I would have ripped through four or five of them!

I didn't spend as much time in the city as I hoped because I didn't leave the hotel until almost 11 am. 

I spent about 4 hours wandering around the immediate vicinity, people-watching, and shopping, but I didn't commit to something longer like a bike rental, double-decker bus tour, or train trip since I needed to come back and study. (I am ready for my lectures to be done so that I can play without obligations!)

One of the first places I went was Macgregor and Macduff's, a place that Eddie found before I left. When I asked Eddie and Billy what they wanted from Scotland, they both agreed: a sgian dubh! 

The ones in this store were absolutely gorgeous; their handles are made from real wood, antler, or Heathergem, so no two are alike. Here's a 2.5-minute video of how they make Heathergems. I'm a little obsessed with it like I was with glass in Venice. Now that I know what it is, I see it everywhere.

A bundle of dyed heather with a Heathergem kilt pin.

A £700 kilt, suitable for a fancy occasion.

All you ever wanted to know about Scottish accessories.

There aren't many natural surfaces in the area surrounding me, but nature seems to be taking them back. Trees and flowers are growing out of all the crevices, and the birds have painted many surfaces white, including the top of Walter Scott's head in George Square. 

A tour guide walked up with his group and started to talk about Walter Scott and Scottish clans. I pretended to look at my phone, sat down on a bench, and eavesdropped. The bench happened to be under a statue of Robert Burns, and the tour group moved closer. Their guide was brilliant. 

Robert Burns, he argued, has changed the world. Have you ever heard the phrase, the best-laid plans of mice and men? Burns is said to have written that poem on the spot after destroying a field mouse's nest with his plow. Billy, you need to read this to Mr. Parker when school and poetry start up again.

To a Mouse, 
on Turning Her Up in Her Nest With the Plough, 

November, 1785

Small, crafty, cowering, timorous little beast,

Oh, what a panic is in your breast!

You need not start away so hasty

With your hurrying scamper

I would be loath to run and chase you,

With murdering plough-staff. 

I'm truly sorry man's dominion

Has broken Nature's social union,

And justifies that ill opinion

Which makes you startle

At me, your poor, earth born companion

And fellow mortal!

I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;

What then? Poor little beast, you must live!

An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves

Is a small request;

I will get a blessing with what is left,

And never miss it.

Your small house, too, in ruin!

Its feeble walls the winds are scattering!

And nothing now, to build a new one,

Of coarse grass green!

And bleak December's winds coming,

Both bitter and piercing!

You saw the fields laid bare and wasted,

And weary winter coming fast,

And cozy here, beneath the blast,

You thought to dwell,

Till crash! the cruel plough passed

Out through your cell.

That small bit heap of leaves and stubble,

Has cost you many a weary nibble!

Now you are turned out, for all your trouble,

Without house or holding,

To endure the winter's sleety dribble,

And hoar-frost cold.

But little Mouse, you are not alone,

In proving foresight may be vain:

The best laid schemes of mice and men

Go often askew,

And leave us nothing but grief and pain,

For promised joy!

Still you are blessed, compared with me!

The present only touches you:

But oh! I backward cast my eye,

On prospects dreary!

And forward, though I cannot see,

I guess and fear!

The tour guide pointed out how empathetic Burns is. Burns can relate to a creature whose life he has upended. I think the world would be a different place if everyone cared so much that they would write a poem to a mouse. 

The tour guide then quoted Burns, who rewrote the lyrics to Green Grow the Rashes in 1784. He suggested that in these lyrics, Burns is cheekily suggesting God is female.

 

Auld Nature swears, the lovely dears 

Her noblest work she classes, O: 

Her prentice han' she try'd on man, 

An' then she made the lasses, O. 

Here, enjoy this lovely work of Scottish art. 

I am teaching tomorrow, so I may not as have as many words for you for the next few days. We'll see.