Stirling Day 2

I historically fan-girled. We went to Bannockburn battle site.

It has been on my historical Bucket list since I first came to Scotland.

After reading Scottish history for the last three years the Battle of Bannockburn has become one of my most favourite moments in its history.  As one of the turning points in Robert the Bruce's history, it marks a high point in Scottish history. He is way cooler than William Wallace (sorry darling). Kicking the English out was just one aspect, he also consolidated his country and reigned prosperously for 23 years. This after nearly being crushed and kicked from his country, resulting in the famous  He learned and became something of a legend.* 

So I took a selfie with Robert the Bruce at the Castle and another at the battle field. History moment achieved.

I attempted a few selfies. Here is the result:

Tried to find feather grey pants and decided I am old because I like my pants to be intact when I buy them. The one store I went to had them, and a pare of canvas worker style pants. Unfortunately my fabulous work out regiment has resulted in Wonder Woman thighs. Pants did not get over those thighs. The only other size, other than a 2cnd(6uk) was size enormous. 

Proof I'm not 20 any more. I'm FABULOUS :D Fuck you size two, on to curvier things.

The majority of the day was spent book hunting in the charity shops. I found two books on the history of Vikings and in Waterstones I got a biography of John Muir. I almost got myself another book, on the before mentioned king, but found in the preface, an authors note on how his facts were wrong and he was unable to change them because of the publisher. By they'd let him write the forward. Foolish publishers.

Neil Oliver is a cool author. He lives in Stirling. But He looks rather funny on all of his covers.
Excited about John Muir.

I had a nice food panic again. Went between two pubs cause two old men looked at me funny in both. "Dear jesus, the locals think I'm a rube." A true thing, but probably not what the old men reading the newspaper and the others watching the football were thinking. I ended in a pub eating a long awaited steak and ale pie.

The gravy.... Soooooo good.

I found a good deal of interesting signs and a wee tidbit on how a wolf saved Stirling from the Vikings.

My feet hate me for it all, but worth it. 

Finally, in one of the pettiest gripes I have about this country, (although an interesting reflection on Scotland) I ate the WORST caesar salad ever. I know the rules of Scottish food. No salads. They're rotten at them. Yet I was not feeling up to a full meal (see last post on 12" sub) so try I did. It was jarred dressing, with an off flavour. No bacon, no parmesan cheese and chives. Mother suggested this was innovative. I think not. It was a franchisee. 

Pizza Hut does better salads. And they're pizza hut!

Thus I will forever make my own salad. 

*I cannot forget Bishop Wishart and William de Lamberton who were also instrumental in pushing the Bruce forward