Future Mr. EJ Will Wear a Kilt

 My most commonly used phrases for this weekend in Scotland were: “These are my people,” “Power of the Tartan,” “My Homeland,” and last but certainly not least my only impression of a Scottish accent mastered with the phrase from Brave, “Would ye?”

Let’s just say, when I say I’m moving to Scotland…it’s not a joke. THOSE ARE MY PEOPLE.  

To give a full play-by-play of the weekend, the train ride got started off right with a full on mid-potty exposure.....unfortunately at my expense (if you are shocked at this point you obviously haven’t been following the blog chronologically). These trains over here are a bit “futuristic” with their stupid lock buttons that light up and stupid sliding semi-circle automatic door things. So stupid.  Anyway, I was doing my business and then all of sudden the semi-circle door is opening at a painfully slow pace and because this bathroom is futuristic and all with illuminated buttons there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. So I am exposed to an impatient woman, her infant, and an elderly and truly Scottish gentleman wearing one of those old-timey golf hats.  Good times.  

                And back to the magic of Scotland where I am a princess and the sound of bagpipes plays constantly in my head as I conquer mountains and stuff:

              Like this one (the following picture is deceiving because this was not a hill, trust me…this was a freaking mountain)

Or where I have breakfast at the birthplace of Harry Potter—WazzUP 2 MY guRl JK!

 I also found scenes like this that took every ounce of strength I have not to mount the horse and gallop off with my bow & arrow like the Princess Merida that I am (or that I am in my head, either way).

        I also found my family’s tartan, which was a huge huge huge deal to me, and now I have an extremely unhealthy obsession with it (Sorry for the snap chats my peoples).

 

             Of course I adore London and it feels more like home each day, but Scotland was different for me. I felt extremely connected to the culture and the people (well everyone else besides that old fart that wacked Scott with his cane. He doesn’t count), and honestly I was downright jovial the entire weekend. Seriously though-- I was giddy just walking around in the city and national park; I was high off of BAGPIPES AND KILTS AND SEEING SO MANY GINGERS THAT GET SUN BURNED LIKE ME!! By the way kilts are a thing, like real life….it is not a tactic to attract tourists. It appeared that very handsome men wear stylish kilts to work, .....and no judgement but it wasn’t so bad looking.

In order to distract you from continuing to judge me, LOOK IT’S MY TARTAN!!!

....... I know. I have a problem.

The next adventure is Ireland, no blood relation to this one but maybe all the leprechaun references I’ve gotten all my life give me some sort of Irish swag.....right?

Xoxo

ScottishPrincessEJ