Dundee

Last September Mom and I went to Scotland. Our trip was to consist of a combination of two organized tours and a weekend on our own. Prior to going, I mapped everything out to the minute so as to get the most out of our trip. We were both excited. I was excited to return and Mom was excited to make her first journey to the homeland of so many of our ancestors.

I was not only looking forward to returning to Scotland, but of course for the time I would be spending with my Mom. I knew we would have lots of laughs and they began before we even left Toronto. Prior to going through security at Pearson Airport, Mom looked at me dead serious and said “I hope they don’t take my brush.”

Neither of us slept very much on the flight. Arriving in Glasgow jet lagged and bleary eyed, we made our made to Buchanan bus station with Dundee being our final destination that day. We passed through Stirling and saw the magnificent Stirling Castle and Wallace Monument. That is the last memory I had before I felt my Mom nudging me saying “Is this Dundee?” I woke up with a start – partly from Mom’s nudge and the people trying to climb over my sprawled legs in the bus aisle. I don’t think I fell asleep – I fell into a sleep coma. I didn’t remember stopping in Perth and looking around me at that moment, nothing looked familiar. I might as well have been on the moon.  

My memory of arriving in Dundee via a bus twenty years ago is at best fuzzy as I was also arriving through bleary jet lagged eyes at that time. This time around, I was really looking forward to that drive into Dundee to see how accurate my memory was...and I missed it completely. Looking around for anything familiar, I finally noticed a sign saying “Welcome to Dundee.” My first thought was “Wow, they’ve made significant upgrades to the bus station.” We stumbled into the bus station and had a cup of tea at the greasy spoon station diner. Heather Muirhead then met us right on cue.

I met Heather during my exchange year at Dundee. She was actually a friend of my fellow Canadian exchange student Beth, but I came to know her and immediately sensed how lovely she was. I babysit her daughter Hilary once that year and have been in touch with her off and on for the past twenty years. When she heard via Beth that I was returning, she insisted we stay with her and her husband at their farm, which was so incredibly kind.

We proceeded to walk around Dundee. Having had the sleep of my life on the bus, I was ready to go, but what I failed to realize until much later was the fragile state my poor mother was in. She hadn’t slept on the plan or bus and was therefore at the point of collapse – and there I was dragging her around greater Dundee with Heather and blabbering on and on about what I remembered and what we did and where we used to go....blah blah blah. My poor Mom. And true to her nature she suffered silently and didn’t say a word. She was excited though when we came across this piper in the city square.

Walking around the campus, I was happy that many things still looked familiar. I recalled where I took classes, saw the development of Belmont residence where I stayed my first semester, and I of course wanted to find Peterson House, where I lived the remainer of that school year.

I chuckled when I saw this sign, which has obviously seen better times. I loved my time at Peterson. I saw the exact spot where I sat twenty years ago with my hockey bag (instead of a suitcase) and I met John Hain who helped me move my luggage. I climbed to the third story to find our old flat only to discover they had changed the numbering on all the flats. I did find a familiar view though.  I recalled sitting on the third story and looking at the River Tay and Kingdom of Fife that lay beyond it.

It was lovely to walk around Dundee. Many things were familiar, yet the nostalgia was less than what I expected. I no longer had an address of my own there. My friends were no longer there. I was merely a visitor. But then again, aren’t we all?

Church door, Broughty Ferry

That afternoon we made our way to Heather and her husband Peter’s farm in Cupar. I have always loved its name, Stirton Farm, and was happy to be able to spend some time in the country. Shortly after arriving, I was a little embarrassed to fall asleep mid sentence in Heather’s living room. Mom still laughs about it – that scene of me falling asleep sitting straight up, mid way through a sentence. After a quick nap, we had a lovely home-made meal that was followed by a few glasses of wine, a great evening of conversation and a lot of remising.

The next day Heather took Mom and me on a tour of the farm. Having been built in 1796, Heather’s house was lovely. We thoroughly enjoyed walking through the fields surrounding the house and barns. Words cannot describe how lovely this farm is and I was in my glory strolling through the fields.

 

That afternoon Heather drove us to Perth where we were to meet with Elizabeth and William MacIntosh whom I had also met during my year in Dundee twenty years ago. Now both in their 80s, they both looked great. They were incredibly funny and witty and we enjoyed a lot of laughter over a cup of tea. I was so delighted to see them both. They were so kind to me during my year in Dundee. They even saw me off at Glasgow airport when I left and I can still recall them waving to me as I departed. It was such a nice way to end that year. I got to know them as they were friends of my cousin Joe Lewis, who has since died. I couldn’t stop thinking about Joe the entire time I was there and couldn’t help but feel that he was happy I was there visiting with Elizabeth and William.

Before I knew it, we were back on a bus for Glasgow and my stroll down memory lane was over. It was nice to see the Muirheads and MacIntoshs. The rest of Scotland remained and Mom and I were more than ready.

 

Stay tuned..