Culloden

I hadn’t planed on visiting Culloden as I’d been previously but considering the proximity to Veteran’s/Armistice Day and keeping in mind future pandemics &c, might curtail a future visit, I hopped off the bus.  Unfortunately it was the last one I would see for awhile. It was a well worth slog. But still a slog

All battlefields start the day the same way, as a field.  Be it corn, wheat, potatoes, whatever the crop, they are simply fields.  By the end of the day or the battle they are desecrated by the sin, blood and the horror of war.  Culloden, Gettysburg, Boyne, Somme, it makes no difference, they are all the same.  And after, if they are historically significant they remain as they were, fields.  Nothing to see, hear or feel except the memories of those who died and those who won and the reason or lack of reason for the encounter. And the knowledge that beneath your feet lies the blood of someone who died for his belief.  A shrine to self-sacrifice. I’ve stood on the field of Culloden.  It is a graveyard of historical significance and should be treated as such.

Ended the day with 22,498 steps/9.48 miles. Then ‘youthened’ or ’embiggened’ by a few pints, I found my self dancing in MacCallum’s! And posing for photos as the ‘Other Yin’. Beers helped the pain but weed would have been better.