Borderline

As part of our annual pilgrimage to see family, we have rented a small house in the Scottish Borders. The Garden House of the Milne Graden Estate is on the banks of the River Tweed, and as the first picture shows, is truly on the border (the river is the border), between England, from which side the photo was taken, and Scotland. Garden houses were the residence of well, the gardener. Milne Graden House was built in the C18th for Admiral Sir David Milne (1763-1845), and descendants still live there. There is good fishing on the river, but I suspect we shall forgo that for touring the locale, including some rather grand and pretty country houses - Floors Castle, Manderston House, and Abbotsford the home of Sir Walter Scott. My great-great-grandfather was also born in one of the villages in the area, so I will be getting instructions on family history from my father before embarking on this journey.

Last night I attended and indeed participated in another marathon (three hour) meeting for our condo renovation here, and I hope we have finally lined up all the ducks that will enable this project to at least begin the drawing stage. I have long since stopped being amazed at the indecisiveness of meeting formats, and now seem able to ensure there is a clear path to "next steps", which appeared to have been a novel idea. So after that and nearly two years since the concept was raised, I feel in need of a break. But only a short break, so that I can come back and be the ongoing thorn in the side, to prevent any stalling.

The upside is that I have discovered patience that I thought I never had, and as a foreigner I have learned to use it and a touch of sensitivity and humility to tiptoe through the cultural minefield that is the unfortunate yoke this country still needs to bear.