When we woke this morning the fog we had left the evening before had kindly hung around to greet us again. We had decided to accompany Miche to work after which she had kindly offered to loan us her car. The promised view of the railway bridge of course didn’t happen however we were blessed that the speed restrictions that often occur in foggy conditions had not yet been imposed. Unfortunately we also missed the views of the rolling hills either side of the A-Road.
Pulling in at the Forfar Education Centre Miche gave us our final instructions about using the car and the vagaries of the English road laws before heading in to work. Upon nestling into the driver’s seat in Miche’s manual car, John turned the key and promptly stalled it as he had forgotten to depress the clutch. Remedying that we reversed out of the car park and down into central Forfar and the town square.
After another 20p comfort stop we decided to head toward the little town of Brethin. Our aim was to visit the Story of the Picts museum along the way taking in some of the Pict stones however before we had even left the outskirts of Forfar we realised that we had taken the wrong road. Cutting our losses we headed back to the motorway and straight to Brethen. As things worked out this was actually the best idea anyway.
At Brethin we pulled into Pictavia just as a small group of P-2 students were being taken on a guided tour of the centre. Asked if we wanted to wait till they had moved through or join in with them we decided to join them which was a good idea because that we way we had explained to us the story of how the Picts used to inhabit the East Coast of Scotland. Though primarily farmers who cleared much of the land they were also fierce fighters who had halted the might of the Roman Empire causing the Romans to build Hadrian’s Wall and before that the doomed Antonie Wall higher up in Pict territory.
Following the Romans, in the early 500’s AD some members of Scot tribes arrived on the west coast of Scotland. The Picts and Scots lived for some time in a state of wariness with occasional fierce battles though there were also numerous marriages between each tribe. In 563 Christianity in the shape of Columba came to Scotland. The Picts who had previously been pagan adopted Christianity alongside their existing beliefs. In 793 AD the Vikings began their invasion of the land of the Picts. This caused the Picts and Scots to join together to fight this latest invader effectively forming the nation of Scotland.
The Picts had their own language and alphabet. They also carved many of their stories on large stone cairns some of which can still be found in the local area. A couple of the smaller ones are housed at Pictavia alongside some plaster casts of the major ones in the local area. The museum also houses a copy of the story of the Battle of Ducheninn a famous victory of the Picts over some invading English the original of which can still be seen in the churchyard at Arblemno.
Finally dragging ourselves away from Pictavia, (Steve our guide was so engaging and willing to share he could have talked for days), we tracked back towards Forfar via the road we had originally looked to travel along. Stopping to take in the original stones we noted how one face was taken up with Christian symbols and stories whilst the other has Celtic and pagan symbols, a sort of bit each way approach to their beliefs system.
Back in the centre of Forfar we looked to lunch and enjoying a local favorite, the Bridie. Bridies are pasty shaped pastries filled with a beef and spiced onion mix without gravy. Ms V had a flaky pastry variety and Mr P had a traditional short crust variety. Both were very tasty indeed.
Heading out of town we then visited Glamis Castle most famous as the family home of the late Queen Mother. Whilst Mr P was rather underwhelmed by the tour, (lots of dinner sets, old furniture and deer heads stuck on walls) and the fact that we were not allowed to take pics was disappointing. Back outside we enjoyed wandering around the gardens and checking out the Highland cattle grazing in a field.
Having picked up Miche, Mr P reluctantly surrendered the driving seat and we headed toward the coast and Arbraoth. Getting closer to the coast the fog once again became thicker such that when stopped at the Arbraoth Harbour we could see no further than the seawall upon which sat the harbour control sounding a warning blast every 50 seconds. The main reason for stopping in Arbroath was to enjoy a “smokie” or smoked herring and chips.
The smokies can be purchase at any of a number of harbourside fishmongers and are wrapped in newspaper. Having purchased ours we then went to Peppo’s fish shop to get our chips. Apart from the fact that Peppo sold potato chips, the menu was virtually unrecognisable compared to those back home. The workflow was also vastly different. “Peppo” was the only cook in the shop despite a customer queue that lead out the shop door and onto the street, (Miche told us that last time they were here the queue was around thirty people long). One of “Peppo’s” female assistant’s role was to take orders and call them out for all to hear whilst both she and her younger assistant assembled and wrapped the orders, first in white butchers paper and then overwrapped in an extravagant pile with yesterday’s newspaper.
One curiosity, amongst others advertised that Mr P did not was that the pies were heated by dropping them into the oil vat.
Back by the dockside we unwrapped and enjoyed our very tasty chips and smokies watched with eagle eyes (?) by a pair of local gulls. It was then time for a short wander around town and then onto the local cliffs. As we were warned by the only one warning sign in the area these red sandstone cliffs can be deadly though there was not a guard rail or anything else to be seen other than on the path leading up the hill.
By now the fog was beginning to lift, (at around 7pm) and we took in some eerie views back over the town and out to sea. Taking our fill of nature it was back to the car and the drive back to Edinburgh this time via the golf course town of Carnoustie and the Tay bridge, unfortunately you guessed it, shrouded in fog.
Apologies for the lack of pics with this post but we are restricted internet access 
The pics for this post are available in the Flickr list on the right side of the blog.
