On Saturday May 5th 2001, the Scottish TTFF met up for the first time. We seem to be few and far between north of the border, but at least four of us (including the ubiquitous Co.) had indicated availability for this particular weekend, so we had decided to go ahead and organise something. In view of the Foot and Mouth crisis, we had decided that we would stick to an urban site, and the idea of a visit to Stirling, that most historic of Scottish towns, began to take shape.
The eventual programme was to be a morning visit to Stirling Castle followed by an afternoon at the Bannockburn battlefield.
Note to readers:- if anyone feels like following in our footsteps, try doing it the other way round. We discovered too late that if you pay the entrance fee at Bannockburn, you get a voucher entitling you to 10% off the entry to other Stirling attractions including the Castle!!
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So at 10am, on a beautiful sunny morning, we met up at the entrance bridge across the castle moat. Numbers had changed in the last few days before the meet, Alison had come down with a bug, the male contingent of Co.’s family had decided to forsake culture and history for the dubious delights of football in Dundee, and Co.’s Mum had developed a tooth infection (what a birthday present!).
In compensation however we had gained the sister and brother of Pete from Trimontium, Sue and Dominic. So our full roll call read myself (Valerie), and son Joshua, Co., her sister Jacks, Jacks’ daughter Siobhan, Pete from Trimontium, and Sue with Dominic.
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We processed across the bridge and went to pay our tickets, before moving on into the main part of the castle. And which cultural highlight did we make for first? – the newly restored Great Hall, the Chapel Royal, the re-constructed Kitchens? No you guessed it – the Coffee shop!!!
It was such a beautiful morning we gathered our refreshments and went outside to sit on the roof terrace and watch the world (or at least the portion of it that had made its way to Stirling that morning!) go by whilst getting to know one another.
We spotted that some of our fellow imbibers (nothing stronger than coffee, honest guv’) were not dressed as we – a redcoat and a highlander with a fine bunnet. So in the cowardly way that all adults have, we sent the youngest member of our party (Siobhan) to go and enquire what they were going to be doing and when!
She reported back that a Jacobite would be doing a presentation at 10.45, and that they would be recruiting in the Inner Courtyard at 11.15. Thus, suitably fortified with both warm drinks and knowledge, we moved on into the main part of the Castle, armed with our guide books, prepared to learn about both mediaeval and 18th century fortifications.
We had barely begun to explore the Castle and had only reached the dazzlingly lime washed Great Hall (which prompted Joshua to remark that it stuck out like a sore thumb and that he didn’t care if that was what it was like originally they should have done it all like that – but he wouldn’t offer to pay for it to be done!) when the redcoat rounded us all up to go and meet the Jacobite.
Seated in an apartment of the Royal Palace, we were held spellbound for the best part of half an hour whilst he related the tale of Bonnie Prince Charlie and Stirling’s part in the ‘45 from the Jacobite point of view. He also gave a demonstration of the use of the highlander’s traditional weapon the claymore (the poor American tourist he used as guinea pig didn’t look too delighted at the prospect of being hacked to death – funny that!)
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Thereafter we were introduced to the delights of the basket-hilted sword, the dirk and targe and the sgian dhu – apparently the claymore was out of fashion by 1745!! Finally he showed us the wearing of the great plaid – the forerunner of the modern kilt – and Siobhan was selected to be dressed in it. She looked absolutely splendid in it.
By this time however we could hear the drums of the recruiting sargeant in the Inner Courtyard, so we moved on out to hear what he had to say for himself. Talking about life as a 19th century soldier in the 93rd Regiment, he spoke of the delights of service overseas, surgery on the injured, drilling (with recruits from the audience – the oldest of whom can only have been 10 – a quick series of left and right face orders left most of them bemused – but not our Siobhan, who was consequently appointed Captain!) and the bayonet charge which Siobhan withstood manfully (girl-fully?).
