Well, I'm huddled up in a place they call Dundee. I've enough coins to buy myself a night at a tavern here, as the weather's right awful, pissing down with rain and the like. I daresay I've gotten my feet wet many a time on my journey here; Scotland's just full of rivers 'n streams that one's got to grit teeth and bear through. Though I wear my flannels and petticoats, it gets right chilly when I muddle my way cross a stream and come out the other side right dreiched. Ah, but no use complaining when a few coins have bought me some rabbit stew and my feet up by a warm fire.
The innkeeper welcomed me in glaedly, and said the weather'd only get worse for many a week, so I may be holed up here for quite some time. I spoke to his wife, and a bright lass she was, not two years older than me and pretty as pie. She brought me a heaping bowl of stew, steaming and smelling great as ever to my stomach, what hadn't eaten in days. She asked me where I'd come from, and where I was headed, and since most travellers had come in for the night, she sat down and listened to me whole story. I told her how far I'd come, and that I was headed to London, with the edges of Scotland bright on my horizons, when this bloody storm hit and stuck me in this bustling town. She nodded right sympathetic, and brought me a sweet roll from the kitchen, saying "What's for ye'll no go by ye.", which is something we say to cheer eachother up. I figure while I'm here, I'll learn a few songs and mayhap sing some myself, as the tavern hall is bouncing and bright with a fiddle and song.
-Aisling
