We only got to the tip of Isle of Skye. Spotting a ruin at sunset, we skirted a small bay and climbed to the top of a rocky hill. Surrounded by heather, looking out onto a small fishing village at sunset – it was magical. And the story of a Norwegian Princess who the castle was built for doesn’t hurt either. God I love a princess story.

I was totally ready to get some highland cows and a few goats and never come back.

Gracia loves herself a moor (in my opine because it’s vast and empty without a town or electric pole in sight – a little like a desert, but with water thank god).

If I could only have procured a castle – I’d be perfecting my Sean Connery accent by now -

Eilean Donan. Yes. Full of secrets and sackings and keepers-of-the-faith types who hire people because of dreams and bring glory back to a loch. Yes. I was meant for Scotland.

Cream tea: Scones, clotted cream, homemade jam, powdered sugar, strawberries, black tea, castle in the background.

Traveling is great for the inspiration pot of stew.

Argh – being gone for a month means serious catch up time! I haven’t had the chance to share with you that we went on a honeymoon post elopement. I’ve only been out of the country one other time. My grandmother, the infamous Sapphire, and I traipsed around Italy a couple of weeks before my first year at College.

This was my second traipse. And it was glorious, and by glorious I mean drizzley, windy and grey.  I’m not a city girl, but Edinburgh almost made me change my mind. I loved every bit of it. I loved Scotland all around.

Edinburgh Castle – what a great castle should be – on a hill, imposing, with a great hall, a few interesting bedchambers, a wee fancy tower and a chapel so compelling and humble it breaks your heart. I prefer antiquity to comfort and secret creaking spots of character to luxury – so I could totally have lived here.

Let me tell you – Mary Queen o’ Scots gave birth to her one child in a room that was -seriously- a closet. And we all know how well life went for her after that… this royalty stuff, not for the faint of heart.

Scotland and I understood each other. The majority of women I saw were of sturdier stock than the wee shrimpettes that walk around the US. Not so very groomed and starving. No unfortunate neon pink sweatsuits with rhinestones either. I decided I was meant to be Scottish, especially when I took one hard tumble down the dungeon steps the very first day – I’ve still got lumps and bruises a month later, but no broken bones. Hardy I tell you.

Next up – a drive in which Gracia finds The Moor, Cream Tea and I try to get locked into Eilean Donan.