poliphilo

Next morning we set off for home. At a leisurely pace. It took us two days.

We spent the morning in Dunfermline. There is a great abbey- with an abbey guesthouse that somehow morphed into a Royal Palace (now picturesquely ruined). A 19th century Presbyterian church in the gothic style has been attached to the east end of the romanesque abbey church and the effect is remarkably harmonious. Robert the Bruce is buried in the Presbyterian half - and they've hoisted a pulpit over the pastiche medieval brass (created in Paris in the 1870s) that covers his grave. Bruce was a murdering sonofabitch and its curious to think of the Word of God being preached above his bones.

There is so much history here. Charles I was born in the Palace. The 19th century steel magnate and philanthropist Andrew Carnegie was born here- the son of a weaver- and came back after he'd made his pile in the USA and showered the town with money; his name is everywhere. The abbey church contains the grave of William Schaw, 1550-1602, who is credited with the creation of modern Freemasonry. Oh, and it was while he was sitting in "Dunfermline town, drinking the bloud-red wine" that the King of Scotland sent Sir Patrick Spens off on his fateful mission to Norroway.