Kirkwall, Scotland – Fog rolls in fast, like an early cinema reel.
Scotch on the rocks.
For an hour, history fades into nature, only to be re-illuminated by yet another day of sun. This isn’t the Scotland I’ve heard so much about.
Having similarly faded into history, the Bishop’s and Earl’s Palaces stand as hollow sheaves of their former grandeur. The former was built in the 1100s – no wonder its ruins are dark, cold and empty. Long open to the elements, only whispers of ornate stonework remain around the fireplaces in the grand hall.
Stone ribs are all that remain of the two buildings.
Across the street, a massive, red sandstone structure looms over the city. It's far more intact.
 |
| A little dead out this morning. |
Semantics.
Following tiny Medieval roads that spread out like spider webs, we're greeted by the golden aroma of fry grease. A chippie is a must.
Leaning against a stone wall in the alley, we tuck into into a tray of glistening fish and chips from the Happy Haddock. A fried ball of haggis comes in a paper bag.
It's my first, and gummier and more seasoned than I had imagined.
A Dark Island Reserve from Orkney Brewery washes it down.
Haggis and a scotch barrel-aged beer – Scottish enough for you?
Where's my kilt?
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