New Lanark: the first factory city is stilled, soundless except for the roar of the waterfall. The rough stone working-class version of New Town’s elegant neoclassical townhouses. It was a ghost town and they're trying to revive it: there’s a hotel, an accountant, a PR consultant, and an ice cream factory. It’s not a bad idea. The countryside is breathtaking. But what about the ghosts? Not anything supernatural, but the inescapable reality of the lives that built it and worked here.
Chatelherault is not a Great House, but merely a hunting lodge, the only survivor of vast estate. The main palace was demolished in the ‘20s, undermined—literally—by the coal mining that had made the family’s fortune.
There’s enough to take in here, without having to also deal with these gooney mannequins. They seem to pop up in most Scottish historic sites. There was even an automated ride in New Lanark.
Bothwell Castle was beautiful to look at, as the rain and the sun alternated. But the main thing was the sound of the crows, hundreds of them, who are the current residents. They filled the air physically and acoustically. Joined later by—a good distance off, faint but clear and distinct—the electronic beats of an outdoor concert.
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