It's essay time here in ossianknitstland:
This week is wholly dedicated to marking, with hopefully a bit of thesisising thrown in for good measure. But mainly marking. I have 20 essays, one of them on Oroonoko, and the rest divided equally between The Rape of the Lock and Gulliver's Travels. The ones I've read so far were either good, or very good, and I've actually been enjoying the marking process. I'm hoping to finish at least half of them by Thursday morning, and the rest by Monday. That'd be nice. Next week's tutorial is on Frankenstein which, while enjoyable, also takes more time to read than, say, some of the poetry on the course.
Knitting, I'm afraid, has once again been relegated to that elusive thing we call 'spare time'. Leisure, it appears, is both weirdly compatible and terribly incompatible with PhDing. Procrastination takes over, but actual free time is rarely to be found - you always feel guilty when you're not thinking about the PhD, or working on the PhD.
Last Saturday I had the day off work, so a field trip seemed in order. The kingdom of Fife has a lot on offer, and the two places we visited, both quite close to St Andrews, were well worth a visit: Crawford Priory and Falkland. The Priory is a private mansion belonging to Lord Cochrane; it is now sadly in ruins (which does, however, enhance its gothic(k)ness - think Jane Eyre).

The front of the building. Notice the lack of roofing, and the fallen-down timbers. And the turrets - oh the turrets!

The side of the building. The front is to our left. See the romanesque doorway?

The back of the building, facing out towards fields and hills. I particularly like the middle section, and its windows.
The side again. So pretty.

My favourite detail: an old lift (people or food?).
My travelling companion, who studies Gothic furniture, squealed at the sight of the window shutters and a ballustrade - the only wooden (?) interior furnishings left. The Priory was such an unexpectedly delightful find. We went off on a whim - PNL had spotted its chimney pots from the train and asked his landlady about it (she knows everyone, it seems), who correctly identified it as the Cochrane's old house. Lord Vere Cochrane that is. Because, you know, everyone is one first name terms with Lords and the royal family.
Falkland seemed the obvious second part of our journey. I had never been to the Palace (just to the village), and was looking forward to seeing both (again).
Falkland village, nestled in the hills, with the Palace behind us.
We had lunch at a wee tearoom (Kind Kyttock's Kitchen) in this street, which branches off to the left from the monument/foutain in the last picture. The tea room was lovely, with an open fire downstairs and local art on the wall. The food was home-made and good, though the portions were a little small. We shared a scone with cream and jam, which was most delicious and enormously big, with lots and lots of sometimes food (what is it with the Scots and their lack of clotted cream? Oh how I miss proper Cream Tea).
The tea room is, I think, the fifth door on the left - the last but one of the white houses.
By the church, next to the monument fountain, is a fantabulous statue. Fantabulous not because of the craftsmenship involved in making it, or because of its location, but because the chap depited has the best name ever:
That's right, Onesiphorus! Onesiphorus, apparently, is from 2 Timothy, and the name means 'bringing profit'. Charles Edward Onesiphorus it is!
On to the Palace though.
Falkland was a royal hunting lodge, used by Mary Queen of Scots as well as later monarchs. It was partly destroyed by fire during the interregnum, but the extant parts are well worth visiting. It's a National Trust property (who, sadly, don't offer a yearly student rate, unlike Historic Scotland). It has two libraries - an Edwardian study and the 'proper' library downstairs, but sadly one cannot go inside. It has some interesting furniture (PNL says; I don't find furniture that thrilling but still liked a few pieces, particulary the dark wooden bed and the bookshelves). It has a Catholic chapel - unusual for a Scottish country house, and, even more exciting than that, Henry Darnley's crest in one of the chapel windows, with 'Henry King of Scots' written close by. I've never seen him referred to King of Scots (although, admittedly, this isn't my period). It also has a royal tennis court - still in use. And we came across this wee fellow in the garden:
An all around lovely day out. Sunny, hazy, warmish yet windy. And pretty. Most of all pretty.
There'll be knitting soon, I promise!