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Posting early as bait for James, who might have something to say about Scots and Jacobins and lost causes.
Retracing our steps past the next two glen lochs, then toward something called Monarch of the Glen, which has a dreadful BBC program, but is beautiful -- ah, it's the countryside we'd be driving through.
Driver History lesson: the last of the Jacobite rebellions, led by Italian born and raised Bonnie Prince Charlie. Landing in 1745 with no resources he managed to rally 5000 men and win two big victories, ended up not far from London. But then got spooked by non-existent troops and retreated back to Inverness. Worse, he decided to fight a field battle at Culloden, with Highlander hill guerrillas against 10,000 trained British redcoats. And to do this by marching to a failed ambush, and marching back again, while having forgotten to feed his men.
When the battle broke, he fled, to die in Rome in his 60s. But his men were butchered without quarter by the second son of George II, who then spent a year trying to eradicate the whole Highland people, murdering across the hills. After that four laws were passed: no weapons (so no hunting), no bagpipes, no tartan, no Gaelic, on penalties of death. And finally the Clearances, getting the landlords to let the government ship Highlanders to Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, or else burning the in their homes, replacing them with sheep. And so it is that we see hardly anyone as we drive along, but plenty of sheep.
Somehow I've never heard the word genocide applied to this.
===
Nothing much happened between there and Pitlochry lunch break, and I don't anticipate much happening to Edinburgh. I did get good enough cell to log on, send a few messages, and get a B&B room for tonight. On reflection hotel might have been better for uncertain check-in time and emergency laundry; I have one clean shirt, and driver is looking at the engine... Now he has a manual out. Maybe I'll need a BnB here.
This stream of events and consciousness style of posting is brought to you by the Maemo free app MaStory, which lets me build up an offline post as stuff happens, via my phone, then upload it when I get an opportunity. So I can type on the bus, or in the bathroom, or while leaning against the bus waiting for the engine to work. If you've wondered about my verbosity, while on an event filled trip, this explains much of it. My eee has barely been touched, until just now in the cafe.
Wait, Morag never came up again. Maybe that's next. Or would be next, if we were going anywhere, which seems unlikely. Dead battery? At least we're in a town of sorts, vs. the middle of the hilly road.
I'd naively think that by now we could have live monitoring of battery health, not just charge.
Were told there wouldn't be progress for another hour; went to look at bus and train schedules... And it in fact would be quite easy to get out of town. Buses every half hour until 19:30 to Perth and some transfer, or trains every two hours to Edinburgh. 18 pounds. And when the regular service stops, sleeper picks up.
I'M IN A CIVILIZED COUNTRY. IF THIS WAS THE US WE'D BE SO FUCKED.
Don't know why the bees love the car park or our bus.
That was fast. Another tour bus is already here, and seems to have started us. Of course, the passengers were scattered for an hour. Nothing much after this, train might be safer. Or faster... Hmm, driver anticipated getting in earlier than scheduled, due to early start, so now we'd be on time. Guess I'll risk it. Train would be faster, but also later.
Retracing our steps past the next two glen lochs, then toward something called Monarch of the Glen, which has a dreadful BBC program, but is beautiful -- ah, it's the countryside we'd be driving through.
Driver History lesson: the last of the Jacobite rebellions, led by Italian born and raised Bonnie Prince Charlie. Landing in 1745 with no resources he managed to rally 5000 men and win two big victories, ended up not far from London. But then got spooked by non-existent troops and retreated back to Inverness. Worse, he decided to fight a field battle at Culloden, with Highlander hill guerrillas against 10,000 trained British redcoats. And to do this by marching to a failed ambush, and marching back again, while having forgotten to feed his men.
When the battle broke, he fled, to die in Rome in his 60s. But his men were butchered without quarter by the second son of George II, who then spent a year trying to eradicate the whole Highland people, murdering across the hills. After that four laws were passed: no weapons (so no hunting), no bagpipes, no tartan, no Gaelic, on penalties of death. And finally the Clearances, getting the landlords to let the government ship Highlanders to Canada, Australia, New Zealand and South Africa, or else burning the in their homes, replacing them with sheep. And so it is that we see hardly anyone as we drive along, but plenty of sheep.
Somehow I've never heard the word genocide applied to this.
===
Nothing much happened between there and Pitlochry lunch break, and I don't anticipate much happening to Edinburgh. I did get good enough cell to log on, send a few messages, and get a B&B room for tonight. On reflection hotel might have been better for uncertain check-in time and emergency laundry; I have one clean shirt, and driver is looking at the engine... Now he has a manual out. Maybe I'll need a BnB here.
This stream of events and consciousness style of posting is brought to you by the Maemo free app MaStory, which lets me build up an offline post as stuff happens, via my phone, then upload it when I get an opportunity. So I can type on the bus, or in the bathroom, or while leaning against the bus waiting for the engine to work. If you've wondered about my verbosity, while on an event filled trip, this explains much of it. My eee has barely been touched, until just now in the cafe.
Wait, Morag never came up again. Maybe that's next. Or would be next, if we were going anywhere, which seems unlikely. Dead battery? At least we're in a town of sorts, vs. the middle of the hilly road.
I'd naively think that by now we could have live monitoring of battery health, not just charge.
Were told there wouldn't be progress for another hour; went to look at bus and train schedules... And it in fact would be quite easy to get out of town. Buses every half hour until 19:30 to Perth and some transfer, or trains every two hours to Edinburgh. 18 pounds. And when the regular service stops, sleeper picks up.
I'M IN A CIVILIZED COUNTRY. IF THIS WAS THE US WE'D BE SO FUCKED.
Don't know why the bees love the car park or our bus.
That was fast. Another tour bus is already here, and seems to have started us. Of course, the passengers were scattered for an hour. Nothing much after this, train might be safer. Or faster... Hmm, driver anticipated getting in earlier than scheduled, due to early start, so now we'd be on time. Guess I'll risk it. Train would be faster, but also later.
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no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 20:24 (UTC)From:Because the British govt was out to exterminate a culture, not a race of people. Also, because extermination was selective: the govt was targeting "disloyal" as opposed to "loyal" clans within the same ethnic group. For example, the laws prohibiting Highland dress were waived in the case of soldiers of the Crown (i.e., the "loyal" Highlanders.)
no subject
Date: 2010-09-09 21:37 (UTC)From: