We make our way through customs

Day 2: Tuesday,  September 6^th

Security: “We’re not after style” Problems with who is our contact person - very nice customs man ...

The quotation is an obscure reference scholars far in the future will spend ages deciphering. I can’t quite figure it out now.  In the first place, we were at customs, I believe, not security. You stood in line until invited to go forward to a wicket.  Couples could go together.  

I believe this comment was said in reference to Greg’s passport photo, which is not flattering. Greg remembers the customs official (a white-haired man with very blue eyes, like Peter O’Toole's – my memory), saying all he was after was “a resemblance… We’re not after style.” 

It was fortunate he had a sense of humour. 

On the plane, we had received little cards to fill out with our names and other information. One question stumped us: Who is your contact person in Scotland? We did not know a soul in the entire United (for now) Kingdom, aside from a couple who had moved to Eastbourne last spring. That is about as far away from Scotland as you can get without wading in the English Channel.

The conversation went something like this:

Customs: You haven’t filled in the answer to this question.

Me: No, we haven’t. [I have been told never to give any more information at border crossings than that which is asked for.]

Customs: Who is your contact in Scotland?

Me: Well, we don’t actually have one.

Customs: You don’t?

Me: No, although [to Greg]  I suppose we could name Cam and Dinah.  [To the customs guy] They live in southern England –  moved there last spring… but that’s kind of a long way away in case of an emergency.

Customs: I see.

[pause]

Customs: What are you doing in Scotland?

Me: We are touring in a large circle beginning here in Glasgow and then going to Fort William and maybe Maillaig, and then Inverness and up to the Orkney Islands, then back south to Nairn, then Edinburgh, Melrose and back to Glasgow.

Customs: I see and why are you doing this?

Me: Well, I am tracing my family tree; I have quite a few ancestors who came from various places in Scotland.

Customs: So you don’t have any family here.

Me: Well, not exactly… I might be a distant cousin  to the woman in the Orkneys who is going to guide us around the neolithic sites, but other than that they are pretty much just in cemeteries, I’m afraid.

Customs [in a resigned tone of voice]: I see. Well, where are you staying tonight?

Me: We’re booked into a hotel on ah ... I  can’t pronounce it … Sauchiehall Street. Just a sec. I have the name in my folder.

I reached into my black bag, pulled out my plastic folder for holding reservations, and found  the reservation sheet for the Argyll Guest House.  

His wrinkled forehead relaxed. He smiled, told us how to pronounce Sauchiehall, and suggested we really should plan on going to the Isle of Skye. He said he had never been there himself, but he heard it was wonderful. I said the train trip up there was supposed to be very scenic.

He wished us a good trip and that was that. We had officially arrived in Scotland.

And in case you are wondering about Sauchiehall:

While the correct pronunciations of this famous shopping street in the centre of Glasgow may well be more like "Saughiehall" (with a soft "gh" sound) you will find that from many Glaswegians it will sound more like "Suckiehall" Street. The name is derived from "saugh" the Scots word for a willow tree and "haugh" the word for a meadow (which was later corrupted into "hall"). Originally, it was a winding, narrow lane, with villas standing in gardens of about an acre or so. It was widened in 1846 and is now a mile-long, broad street, running in straight lines, from Buchanan Street in the east to Kelvingrove and the Museum and Art Galleries in the west.  http://www.rampantscotland.com/features/pronounce3.htm