Breaking Through the Wall

Dawn broke softly over calm waters. Boats floated on the pearly-peach North Sea, suspended in a shimmering swath of color between the darkness of the depths and the blue-white of the early morning sky.

Within hours, Chris, Isaac and Eloise were stepping on English soil for the first time. Fluffy white sheep still wrapped in their winter coats seemed haloed when backlight by the warm sunshine. We knew this weather wouldn’t last the entire trip, but this day was glorious. We had lunch of tomato soup, fresh bread, sandwiches and pasty before tromping down the lane and up the hill to the wall.

There are lots of places to pull over and see Hadrian’s Wall. We picked Housesteads, where you can walk atop the actual wall near the ruins of a Roman hilltop fort. The cheerful visitors center near the parking lot served up cream tea, lunch and maps with a small playground and picnic tables near bleating flocks.

The wall runs across a natural bluff that was high enough to make me veeeeery nervous when we stood on the edge. I really enjoyed the walk in the sunshine, tasty lunch, and trying to get close enough to pet the sheep. The wall and fort? Oh, how interesting. Chris was the other way around. I think this was on par with visiting Mycenae last summer; that is to say, nearly a pilgrimage. Chris felt extremely fulfilled as we marched around the ruins.

The kids enjoyed checking out the best-preserved ancient Roman toilet.

I bought a recycled wool scarf/blanket at the tiny museum.

“Is that Hadrian’s Wool?” Chris asked.

Oddly, we now have it draped over the part of the couch the cats like to demolish and both kitties LOVE it—it’s as if they sense the fulfilment and masterful pun of its origin and have made it their preferred sit spot, often napping there and leaving their catnip mice folded into it.

We drove on through undulating hills in beautiful countryside, crossing the boarder into Scotland and turning on the UK playlist: Red Hot Chilli Pipers were an unexpected favorite, as well as Rumjack’s punk rendition of “All for Marie’s Wedding,” which we of course played 16 years ago at our wedding for our father-daughter dance.

“Are they saying MARI’S WEDDING?” Eloise was absolutely amazed, and both kids sing along whenever it plays.

We arrived in Edinburgh before sunset.