I realize that for many these buildings are symbols of aristocratic arrogance, of all the ways the rich can trample the poor in order to construct idols of themselves in stone. But gosh, they're pretty.
This bedroom in Hopetoun is oozing red. Dracula (in the form of Gary Oldman) could have slept there, dreaming of his dark princess. And Dubrobin Castle, built by the Sutherland family (known to have meanly booted many a crofter off the land during the clearances), is still dreamy and makes me want to set a novel there. Fairy tale facades have been built from blood in this country. And yes, I'm a complete sucker.
After two years I can't seem to stop playing tourist - I can't get enough intricate stonework, or lush carpeting or ridiculous portraits of people who all strangely look similar. Stained glass. Heavy bedroom curtains. Curved, Gothic candle holders. Great mazes scuplted out of hedges. How I adore them. I am afraid it is beyond my will not to.
1 comment:
I am SO with you on this post. I have turned my cottage in NY into Scotland - all the walls bear super-sized photos taken on my travels there, so that no matter where I stand I can "look out the window" into the country that holds my heart.
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