[Photos] UK 20 - Inverness Part 2
Jun. 4th, 2019 10:43 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonvoiceSo today I had my follow up MRI for my neck tumours. It was the first time I haven't needed Temazepam for an MRI in like three years, and given I've had like 6 MRIs in that period, it's pretty awesome. The radiologist/radiographer remembered me from last time and the time before, and I told him I was risking not taking a Temazepam and he was like 'well fingers crossed' and then afterwards he was really great and excited about it and said he was proud and how awesome it was, and then we talked about how cool MRI machines are.
But I'm feeling pleased, because my claustrophobia in MRI machines has come so far. My veins didn't play entirely nicely with the gadolinium contrast, but they got it in eventually. Results, hopefully, on Friday. Probably the tumours have done nothing at all. We hope.
One of the things I found personally disturbing, was actually how many war memorials there were. I had a long conversation with Glen about how difficult it must be to actually heal from generational trauma, when you have monuments everywhere, every fifteen steps (even in random, tiny villages that have no like, fuel station or shop, will almost always have a war monument), glorifying the trauma. I'm sure there are lots of different perspectives on this, but I find it personally disturbing. Because just...imagine if you erected the same number of public monuments towards all the children abused in your town, or all the people killed with domestic violence, or all the other incidents of trauma, generational trauma, intergenerational trauma, cultural trauma.
So why just war?
Yeah, a lot of mixed feelings about so much funding going into the celebration of violence and trauma, because it shows the glaring lack of where that funding doesn't go (including, perhaps especially, into vet services re: PTSD and more). (These flowers were, of course, part of a larger war memorial sculpture.) I made a point of not taking photos of these wherever possible, with the exception of the Italian Chapel in Orkney, and Edinburgh.
The person who made this children's ride had a wicked sense of humour, and it's a very overt reference to the Each Uisge, whose most famous story goes - in a very paraphrased version - like this:
Six (or five or seven) brothers walk down to the lake to enjoy themselves. The sixth brother, the smallest, is often not included in their games and has to sit away from the others because he's sickly.
A beautiful black pony (or white, or grey, or dappled) comes trotting playfully up to them - where did it come from! Far too beautiful to be a wild thing, and it keeps courting the boys, encouraging them to ride him. So the first brother gets on, and the pony continues to gaily prance, inviting the other brothers on, kneeling on. So slowly, all the brothers get on, and it is only then that the sickly boy realises that the pony - the Each Uisge - has been grotesquely lengthening its body to carry all the brothers upon it (much like this children's ride).
Then, showing sharp, vicious teeth to the sickly boy, the pony says: 'Don't you want to come for a ride?' The boy, panicking, flees, and the pony turns into the lake - the brothers now screaming in terror, unable to dislodge themselves from the sticky pelt of the pony - and runs in. The brothers are never seen again, presumably eaten. But five perfect livers float to the surface of the lake the next day, all that remains.
THEY MADE IT INTO A FUCKING CHILDREN'S RIDE PLEASE NEVER CHANGE SCOTLAND
Daffodils and a blurry view of the place where we stayed.
Every day.
This was part of the symbolic Loch Ness Monster installation. Instead of an actual monster, it was instead, humps of stone bricks creating something of an amphitheatre where people can perform and children can play.
Next, Eilean Donan castle!
But I'm feeling pleased, because my claustrophobia in MRI machines has come so far. My veins didn't play entirely nicely with the gadolinium contrast, but they got it in eventually. Results, hopefully, on Friday. Probably the tumours have done nothing at all. We hope.
One of the things I found personally disturbing, was actually how many war memorials there were. I had a long conversation with Glen about how difficult it must be to actually heal from generational trauma, when you have monuments everywhere, every fifteen steps (even in random, tiny villages that have no like, fuel station or shop, will almost always have a war monument), glorifying the trauma. I'm sure there are lots of different perspectives on this, but I find it personally disturbing. Because just...imagine if you erected the same number of public monuments towards all the children abused in your town, or all the people killed with domestic violence, or all the other incidents of trauma, generational trauma, intergenerational trauma, cultural trauma.
So why just war?
Yeah, a lot of mixed feelings about so much funding going into the celebration of violence and trauma, because it shows the glaring lack of where that funding doesn't go (including, perhaps especially, into vet services re: PTSD and more). (These flowers were, of course, part of a larger war memorial sculpture.) I made a point of not taking photos of these wherever possible, with the exception of the Italian Chapel in Orkney, and Edinburgh.
The person who made this children's ride had a wicked sense of humour, and it's a very overt reference to the Each Uisge, whose most famous story goes - in a very paraphrased version - like this:
Six (or five or seven) brothers walk down to the lake to enjoy themselves. The sixth brother, the smallest, is often not included in their games and has to sit away from the others because he's sickly.
A beautiful black pony (or white, or grey, or dappled) comes trotting playfully up to them - where did it come from! Far too beautiful to be a wild thing, and it keeps courting the boys, encouraging them to ride him. So the first brother gets on, and the pony continues to gaily prance, inviting the other brothers on, kneeling on. So slowly, all the brothers get on, and it is only then that the sickly boy realises that the pony - the Each Uisge - has been grotesquely lengthening its body to carry all the brothers upon it (much like this children's ride).
Then, showing sharp, vicious teeth to the sickly boy, the pony says: 'Don't you want to come for a ride?' The boy, panicking, flees, and the pony turns into the lake - the brothers now screaming in terror, unable to dislodge themselves from the sticky pelt of the pony - and runs in. The brothers are never seen again, presumably eaten. But five perfect livers float to the surface of the lake the next day, all that remains.
THEY MADE IT INTO A FUCKING CHILDREN'S RIDE PLEASE NEVER CHANGE SCOTLAND
Daffodils and a blurry view of the place where we stayed.
Every day.
This was part of the symbolic Loch Ness Monster installation. Instead of an actual monster, it was instead, humps of stone bricks creating something of an amphitheatre where people can perform and children can play.
Next, Eilean Donan castle!
no subject
Date: 2019-06-04 02:10 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-05 04:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-06-08 02:33 am (UTC)With regard to these pictures, it's stupid but I'm almost surprised at how cultivated it looks. In my head Scotland is wilder and more natural than England, which pfft, obviously not. Or at least not to my standard of wild, where one can walk off and vanish into the wilderness for weeks if one desires.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-12 01:46 pm (UTC)(And currently I can't walk because my knee has decided to pack it in for no good reason, so I'm a bit ready to fire the last week and a half, heh - I'm currently waiting for Glen to get home so he can grab me the walking stick and I can see if I can walk at all (I can't currently, without it).
This is like, the River Ness and it's very cultivated because it's arterial to the town (sort like Swan River is in Western Australia), it flows right past the major township, and it's got suburbs on other sides. Most of the rivers aren't like this, but this was all walking distance of where we were living, and we were in the heart of the town (well, ten minutes walk from the Castle and fifteen minutes walk from the 'city').
There are some wilder patches coming! Though not really much of forest, until we get to Aviemore.
no subject
Date: 2019-06-13 07:07 pm (UTC)In re: your photos I actually wasn't expecting much forest. The wild uplands full of gorse and bird life are my mental image of Scotland, frankly. (And I freely confess probably inaccurate due to my lack of familiarity with the country.) While my personal "thing" is forests I also love steppes and heaths and all wild landscapes, really. I appreciate you sharing whatever you have.