Oh dear — An Elegant Sufficiency

We had nothing planned until late morning, so took the opportunity to get up late and do one or two things before going for breakfast. I’d looked out of the window at Invergordon and thought it wasn’t the most attractive setting so didn’t really feel in a hurry to get out and about.

Whilst eating breakfast we noticed that the view from the other side of the ship was rather better!

Looking from the stern, down the Firth and out to sea, there were several distinctive structures. What was this all about then?

Our guide for the day soon offered the answer, in his explanation that Invergordon is the number one port for IRM - Inspection Repair and Maintenance of platforms such as this. So, some were here for repair and maintenance, others were in the process of dismantling.

As we drove along the Cromarty Firth, he pointed out a few places of interest and crossing over the Kessock Bridge over the Moray Firth, he recommended we look out for the “line” in the water, where the freshwater of the river overrode the denser saltwater of the Firth. I appreciate this kind of strange phenomenon!

We were heading for Cawdor Castle, through fairly heavy traffic at times, especially around Inverness. We weren’t too sure what to expect, but were assured that it was lovely and we’d made a good choice. When we got there, we decided to let the crowds go on ahead and we’d begin by taking a look at the garden.

The flower borders were truly spectacular.

I loved the small meadows that were planted in beautiful colours too.

Eventually we made it inside!

Our guide had said that the castle was never intended as a defensive structure but more of a residence. As we walked through the series of rooms that was immediately apparent. The Dowager Countess of Cawdor, Angelika, still lives here for some of the year and most of the rooms had a very “lived in” feel.

Though it lacked the picturesque grandeur of Glamis, it certainly felt more real than Scone and was the more charming for being on a human scale. But in all the commentaries, one name had been missing; one that both of us had always associated with Cawdor.

Eventually, we found him there on the timeline, listed as the first inhabitant of the Castle. But not a soul mentioned him otherwise. Superstition?

From Cawdor, we began our return to Invergordon along much the same route as we’d been earlier. We had just one scheduled stop along the way - a short photo stop at Culloden, the site of the last battle in Great Britain, in April 1746. This was a cue for the guide to begin his nationalist-tinged explanation of the battle and for my Hero, the historian, to feel irritated. During the next ten minutes or so, his outline of the events leading up to the battle was at best misleading and at times, plainly incorrect and a question from somewhere on the bus regarding the relevance of the enclosures seemed to flummox him.

We stopped for photos at the Cumberland Stone, upon which the story goes, the Duke of Cumberland, Commander of the British troops stood and watched the battle, which was over in an hour. We were now hearing about how the English sought to rid the Scottish people of their culture, their tartan, their way of life and their language. “But they did not succeed!”

At the battlefield, sadly, there was no time to do more than walk up to the viewpoint and take some photographs, It would have been good to have had time to get an impartial view of events and to learn a little more here.

Returning to Invergordon provided the opportunity for more explanation of current Scottish affairs, all heavily influenced by his own personal politics. I don’t think we have ever been subjected to such unprofessional behaviour in what was supposed to have been an interesting and jolly afternoon out. Rather than returning with fond memories of Cawdor Castle, the lovely gardens and a better understanding of history I came back feeling irritated and cross.