Burns in the Blue House

 Yesterday was January 25th,  Burns Night, celebrating the Scottish poet Robert Burns. Because of COVID, I've missed the last 2 years when this event was held down at the Beer Museum. Unfortunately, although I love the patrons down there dearly, and even have friends among them, because so many of them are anti-vaxxers, I've not been down since the pandemic took a firm hold of our little town. 2019 was a memorable year down there, with the haggis paraded through the bar and whiskey flowing plentifully. There were plenty of toasts and Burns' poetry read aloud, and it had been a superb evening. I'd been aware of the date passing by the last 2 years and decided this year was not going to be another miss.

I ordered a haggis online and invited a dear friend, Bill, and his son to come round. Bill is not a fan of offal or lamb, so I was particularly impressed that he agreed to show up, but then that's what good friends do, isn't it? I didn't want to serve up the traditional 'neeps and tatties' both of which are simply boiled. 'Neeps', being turnips are not a favorite vegetable of mine, I find then rather tasteless, so instead I cooked swede, (rutabaga), and parsnips, mashing them together with butter, sour cream and seasoning, with melted cheddar on top. For the 'tatties', rather than boiled, I cooked a pan of roasted potatoes. I also made a mushroom gravy, as haggis on its own can be rather dry.

I laid the table, not forgetting the glasses for wine and shot glasses for the whiskey. Bill called before arriving, saying his son couldn't make it. A shame, so I had to put away his place setting, but cheered myself up with the thought that there'd be more for the rest of us.  I'd stopped at our local florist on the way home to see if they had thistles, a last minute idea I'd had. Luckily, they had some thistley kind of blooms, which were close enough, and being that some of them were purple, I brought them home for the table. Elliott found 'Scotland the Brave' played on bagpipes and we were ready to go. I showed Bill the haggis when he arrived and he didn't look too impressed, poor chap, so we pulled it out of it's casing and mixed it in with a good helping of gravy, making it look more like a ground pork dish. Then the bowl was placed on a silver platter of my Dad's and we marched it into the dining room with the bagpipes blasting out. With all the fodder on the table it was hard to not just attack! But I had to toast the haggis first, and did so, in the English version, because although Robert Burns was a fine upstanding poet, dearly loved by millions, and celebrated yearly, I haven't a clue what his poems mean, and certainly can't pronounce them. This page has both the Scottish and English version. We did have a few chuckles when I read the 'easy' version.
 

We raised our glasses, filled with Glenfiddich whiskey, and toasted the haggis and Robbie Burns. And then we lifted our diggers and got stuck in. God bless Bill, he did valiantly try a mouthful of the haggis but the mushroom gravy could not disguise the flavor of lamb offal and the oatmeal with herbs that make up haggis. He screwed up his face, swallowed, and then concentrated on the veggies. Thankfully, there was a thick layer of cheese on the top of the swede and parsnips so he did get some protein. Elliott was quite taken with the haggis, actually surprised that he liked it. He later revealed that he'd been rather apprehensive about eating it, so was very happy to find it going down so easily, so easily in fact, that he managed 2 platefuls of food. I have to admit that it had all turned out pretty well. I'd rushed home from work, with only an hour and a half until Bill was due to arrive, so was stoked that the meal was a success.

To keep the Scottish theme with the dessert, I wanted something light and easy, so decided to try making shortbread. I'd made the dough the evening before, so all I had to do was roll it out, cut it into slices and throw it in the oven for 15 minutes. We left it 10 minutes to cool down and then tried it tentatively. It was delicious! The plate emptied quite rapidly but a few were left for later consumption. We spent the rest of the evening, rubbing our extended bellies and chatting. The photos are few, since I was enjoying myself too much to think of them, and these were taken with my phone, but I'm glad we have the evening on record, glad we got to celebrate Burns Night in our own home, and especially glad that I had Elliott and Bill to share this event, that I find so special, with me. Kind of strange since I'm English, but there you go. Slàinte Mhath!

A Starry Night in Roanoke

Between Christmas and New Year, Elliott and I decided that a couple of days in Roanoke was in order. After having had 2 knee surgeries this year with all my vacation time used for recovery, (2 weeks vacation after 20 years employment, gotta love America), I was really wanting to have a break, however small. Roanoke isn't too far from us, under 3 hours drive, and is an interesting town, plus has a few breweries. So, on Wednesday, we set off, not too early, and without breakfast, and headed south. Our first stop would be Kathy's Diner, an hour away in New Market.

I've been here many years before with the urbexing crew and remembered it fondly. Today would be no exception. I'm afraid I didn't take a photo of the food, it disappeared rather rapidly, but take it from me, it was delicious, and the service was very friendly. We both had omelettes, which were loaded, with very tasty home fries and scrapple on the side. Copious cups of coffee washed it down, and so we were fueled for the day.

A cool wayside garage wasting away on the side of the road, not too far north of Roanoke. As we approached the town I began to get very excited. My favoritest train in the whole wide world is housed here in the Transport Museum, and I was longing to gaze up at her rapturously. We parked and walked inside quickly, then out to the outside rail yard where she was supposed to be sitting. But there was no Norfolk and Western Class J 611 to be seen. I walked about as fast as my knee would allow and then looked on my phone for information. She was still up at Strasburg, PA. I had foolishly assumed she'd be back home for Christmas, but she wasn't. If I had been 5 years old I would have thrown my sweets on the floor, stamped my feet and bawled skywards, but being a full grown adult, I stomped slightly as I made my way to the back of the trains, unable to find anything photogenic to focus my camera on now that the star of the show was not in attendance. These old trains reminded me of a trip taken many years ago to PA where we'd come across some similar relics in Hamburg.

But towards the back of the yard, some beautiful, rusted old carriages caught my attention and I managed to eventually enjoy myself again. I had no one else to blame, I should have done my research to avoid being disappointed. But now I had to make the best of the situation, and so I concentrated on the locomotives in front of me, which were rather fine. A slight rain was falling and gradually changed the dusty tired paint that was still left on the carriages to more vibrant shiny hues, and soon I was engrossed in my photography.

I managed to grab a couple of Elliott and he sent me one he'd taken. Note the splendid knee performance!

A couple more of me that Elliott took and sent to me so I could process them.

Back inside the museum, we wandered around the exhibits of model ships and galleons, planes, coaches, and a rather lackluster collection of vintage cars. Children's yells could be heard at the other end of the building, excitement voiced loudly at the model railway on display. Intrigued, we walked towards them.

After the rusted trains in the rail yard, this was my second favorite part of the museum. A collection of about 6 trains, with carriages, were chugging around the tracks, with lights on their fronts, some of which went through tunnels. They were all on timers and would suddenly stop for a while, (there were no notices indicating how long, and I noticed one hadn't moved again in 20 minutes), before starting up once more along their route. I was particularly taken with the vintage streets and vehicles. especially the dust piling up on the overhead wires. Not sure why I liked that so much, but I did. Likely the urbexer in me. Upstairs was another large model, this time of a circus arena and a horse show. The amount of miniature people that had been crammed in for the spectators impressed me, a lot of time and effort had been spent painting all these people.

Dusk was approaching as we drove up Mill Mountain to see the famous Roanoke star. We'd been downing some superb beer at a reduced price in Deschutes Brewery, since they were closing down on Friday, having decided east coast operations weren't profitable enough, so they were going to remain in Oregon where they'd begun. I did get a pint glass and a couple of superb bottled aged ales to take home with us. The star was already lit when we reached the summit, white light shining in the gloom. When I'd been here a few years earlier, I'd seen it lit from a distance in red, white, and blue, but now that color combination is only for special events and holidays. Being the largest illuminated star in the world, it does make an impact as you stand below it and look up. I wish ours in Front Royal was this big, but hey, at least we have one, even if it is only over Christmas. 

The star information and history is here.

The views over Roanoke were also impressive and we were even able to point out where our hotel was amongst the city lights twinkling below us. We stood, enjoying the view, a light breeze brushing past us, the evening air warmer than it should be at the end of the year. We were in light sweatshirts, jackets not required. We left to go back into town for dinner and a wander around the streets, enjoying the lights and windows, and of course another brewery, Golden Cactus Brewing.

The next morning, after a tasty breakfast and Bloody Mary at Scrambled, we headed back up to the star. A heavy fog had crept in overnight and now the mountain was draped in huge dense clouds, the star invisible from below. We were amazed at how many people were up there, and felt bad for those who had come for the view, even hearing another couple wish that they'd come up there the night before. We kept quiet. Yet I really enjoyed seeing the star like this, its top points disappearing into the white shroud of mist, giving it a ghostly appearance. And even as we stood there, the fog pressed down heavier and heavier, even muting the voices of people nearby. It almost felt like I had cotton wool balls in my ears. But it was magical. We walked along the trail, enjoying the shadowy and almost unearthly atmosphere of the trees. It was eerie but captivating.

We left the mountain top and drove back into town, where our next stop was the Pinball Museum. Everyone had to wear masks and they only allowed 35 people in at a time, which was great, since that meant there were always machines available for play. I had initially only wanted a couple of photos of the bright lights and had assumed I'd be bored within 10 minutes, but I loved this place! I had played pinballs as a teenager and in my early 20's but never given them a thought until now.

One of the staff was repairing a machine, and replacing all the light sensors with small computer chips and LED lights so they would last longer. It's not very often you get the opportunity to see 'under the hood' with these machines. The museum opened in 2015, and has about 60 machines that can be played, dating back from 1932.

I ended up playing on about 20 of the games, a few of them are above. but my favorite was the Star Trek game, featuring the Captain Kirk crew. I played on a few of the older games, loving the vintage bells and clangs and the feel of the flippers that just really never slammed the balls hard enough. One old machine that Elliott played, called Whirlwind, or something, even had a fan on the top of the backglass and blew air at him when he got a high score. Hilarious! But the bright flashing lights, the sound effects, the graphics and the added thrills on the playfields of the newer machines won me over. I loved them.

A brief history of the pinball machine is here.

Just so you can witness the lights and noises, here's a couple of clips of both of us playing the machines. I'm playing my favorite Star Trek machine, love that rocking Enterprise starship motion! And Elliott is on first, playing the very creepy FunHouse, a 1990 machine featuring 'Rudy', who comments on your game and tells you where to shoot.

We left the Pinball Museum after each of us having played on most of the machines, and nearly completing our 2 hour play time. Not bad since I thought I'd be sitting down, bored, after 10 minutes! Our next stop was Black Dog Salvage in the town, a huge warehouse selling architectural pieces and antiques, as well as local crafts.

I saw a lovely bunny bench, a curved concrete seat, supported by two rabbits and with a third sitting on the back of the bench, but at $500, it could stay there. I was rather amused at this huge Arby's sign, but not being a fan of their sandwiches, I felt no inclination to buy. There was some lovely wrought iron pieces and garden ornaments, but we'd hoped to find some building supplies that could used on the shed construction in the spring, but nothing jumped out at us. 

But I did spot this gorgeous cast iron swan. I was unable, when I later looked, to find anything like it online but I guess it could be English and maybe once was part of a pair that sat on top of two gateposts. Regardless, he will be a nice addition to the shed, whether inside or out, so for $58, he came home. And so did we. A stop at a coffee shop for a caffeine intake and some food, and then we began the drive north back to Front Royal. But I think there will be a return trip to Roanoke in the future, it's a great little town.