LEJOG Day 67: Peebles to Carlops

Weather: Cloudy and cool

Distance covered today: 25.1km (15.6mi)

Last night's B&B: Whitestone House (£30)

Cumulative distance: 1339.5km (832.3mi)/ % Complete: 70.0%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 67 (click!)

By a stroke of very good fortune, I happened to be in Peebles in Beltane Week. By an even better stroke of good fortune, I happened to be sitting at a table with Rosemary and Keith this morning, and it turned out that Rosemary was once the Beltane Queen! I am nothing if not diligent in my researches and armed with this information, I have discovered that the only Beltane Queen with the name of Rosemary was Rosemary Smelt and she was queen in 1958. I can only insist that the date must be wrong, because the Rosemary I met this morning couldn’t possibly have been born by then!! (Either that or she has had an easy and charmed life in Keith’s care!)

But as usual, I am getting ahead of myself! As I wandered through the parties and processions last night, completely amazed at the sights and abysmally ignorant of the occasion, I felt that this time I really was coming in from outer space! Fortunately, this morning, Rosemary was able to give me a most succinct and erudite description of the event. Unsurprisingly, it has the same mediaeval origins as many of the summer festivals of this part of the world, celebrating midsummer by the lighting of fires and general celebration of the season. In the border towns, the festivals of course also reflect the embattled past. In Peebles, a particular tradition is the Riding of the Marches, a ceremony in which the Cornet, accompanied by other horsemen, would ride around the boundaries of the district to ensure the security of the Royal and Ancient Burgh that had been conferred under a charter from King James I. The festival includes many traditional elements and seems to involve the whole community. Certainly, the entire town was out last evening and the atmosphere reminded me of Guy Fawkes celebrations in the south, except that it all happens in broad daylight in the bright Scottish summer evenings!  There was also no shortage of alcohol.

I did though find myself in rather strange mood. These festivals are community events and I felt isolated and slightly excluded. I had spent the later part of the afternoon in the public library in a successful search for an internet connection (wifi is available and free in Scottish libraries!) and that reinforced my contemplative mood. Over supper in a rough pub, I found a dog-eared and damp book in a discarded bookcase, its spine broken and hard cover missing. To my surprise it was part of an edited volume of books of serious literature and my mood improved as I read about Russian nihilists in the 19th century. Then, all of a sudden, I came upon this poem by Robert Burns, and it transformed my mood completely! I was so delighted, I transcribed it onto a paper napkin and here it is (put on your best Scots accent and battle through. It’s worth it):


To a Mouse by Robert Burns (on turning up her nest with the plough) Nov. 1785

Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
O, what a panic's in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty
Wi’ bickering brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an' chase thee,
Wi' murdering pattle.

I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
An' justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
An' fellow mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen icker in a thrave
'S a sma' request;
I'll get a blessin wi' the lave,
An' never miss't.

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It's silly wa's the win's are strewin!
An' naething, now, to big a new ane,
O' foggage green!
An' bleak December's win's ensuin,
Baith snell an' keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an' waste,
An' weary winter comin fast,
An' cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro' thy cell.

That wee bit heap o' leaves an' stibble,
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou's turned out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An' cranreuch cauld.

But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us nought but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!

Still thou are blest, compared wi' me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But och! I backward cast my e'e,
On prospects drear!
An' forward, tho' I canna see,
I guess an' fear!

Now I begin to understand what the Scots saw in Burns’ writing. Amongst other things, it expresses eloquently my sister, Margie's attitude to the animal kingdom! And what an extraordinary way to encounter it!  My mood transformed, I circulated amongst the revellers until weariness set in and it was time to turn in.

Only to receive a bit of a shock!  I was absent-mindedly plotting my course for today, when suddenly I realised that I had underestimated the route by misreading the major roads on two adjoining OS maps. I was far further from tonight’s B&B than I had anticipated, and there was no easy way of getting there by road!  Basically the problem is that the Tweeddale valley had lulled me into complacency as it wended its way in a north-westerly direction. But now the grain of the country was changing. The valleys have now started to run to the north-east, carrying the roads with them. To continue to the north-west, I have again to cross the hills and there are no roads. After an initial period of disquiet in which I couldn’t see an easy solution, I eventually found a way using forestry tracks and farm paths that would do the job. It seemed I was in for an adventure!

This morning I set off as early as I could, feeling the tingle of excitement that had spurred me on my way through earlier challenging sections of my journey. I wandered through the preparations for Beltane weekend in Peebles, slightly regretting leaving it all behind, when suddenly a car screeched to a halt at a cross-roads, and I was enthusiastically greeted by Tracey and Richard, who I had met earlier on my journey in Innerleithen. We were ecstatic! I can’t express how exciting these coincidences are on a journey such as this! They were visiting Scotland on the sad business of attending Richard’s grand-mother’s funeral, and were facing the unenviable task of clearing out her home. She had reached the fine old age of 102, so it was not an unexpected parting, but nonetheless, not easy. We had shared dinner together in Innerleithen where I had discovered that Richard was an ex-South African, who had decided to become a house-husband to bring up the kids while Tracey worked. I was most interested in his choice and had thoroughly enjoyed their company. I had not expected to see them again!

The early part of my day’s walk involved a choice between a path and an A-road. The rules in Scotland are different to those in England. In Scotland, the right to roam over public and private land is an ancient tradition, codified into law as late as 2003, with the only provision being the duty to act responsibly. In England and Wales, the situation is much more complicated and the right to roam, codified in law in 2000, is restricted to certain public lands such as downland, heathland, moorland and coastal land. The public also has the right to use public footpaths, bridleways and byways. What I hadn’t realised until now is that these rights are depicted on OS maps in that public footpaths in England and Wales are clearly identified as stippled green paths. Of course in Scotland, where there is no restriction, there are also no green stippled paths on the OS maps. Footpaths are marked as inconspicuous black dots, but as all footpaths are by definition public, there is no need to highlight them as public!

It had taken too long for this rather basic information to penetrate my brain, but it opened up all sorts of new routing possibilities in Scotland for me. However, some realities are the same in all three countries! Just because a path is marked on a map, doesn’t mean it exists on the ground. I had opted initially for the path, but when it disappeared into a dank and watery riverside bush, I back-tracked and took my chances on the A-road. To my delight, it had a pavement for about half the required distance, and I was soon off into the hills on forestry tracks, feeling energised and excited to be forging my own way into the Scottish hinterland! I had warned Veronica that the going today might be through uncharted territory and that if I didn’t make it to my destination, she would know to call out emergency services. I was geared for the challenge!

Eventually, quite close to my destination and now back on a minor road, I passed a little group of pedestrians having a chat on the road. The man turned to me.  “Laddie, let me guess”, he exclaimed in a broad Scottish accent, “ye’re on ye way to John O’ Groats, are ye not?”  “How did you know?” I asked. “Och, it’s obvious, mon. This is the logical way, isn’t it? Lot’s of ye laddies come down this road!”  So there I was, thinking that I had invented a unique and very personal track through the uplands of the Cloich Hills, only to discover that I was not alone!

It’s hard to be a pioneer in this much travelled and hugely interesting land…..

A tasteful and unusual war memorial in Peebles

Bagpipes at the start of a Beltane procession

For the love of Scotland!!

Some of the floats

It has to be said that these rugby players looked as embarrassed as the audience!

Rosemary and Keith explaining Beltane to me over breakfast

The A-road and its welcome pavement

Richard and Tracey at our chance reunion!

I saw this lovely wooden house on a farm path. The owner told me they loved the way it blended into its surroundings and they loved the view. I could only agree

I found this observatory in the hills. I googled it and found that it is now disused, but had been operated by Edinburgh University

Heading into the trees of the Cloich Hills

The forests are unsurprisingly more and more conniferous as my latitude escalates

Those are the Pentland Hills. I'll have to find a way across them for the next leg!

One finds such surprising things on foot! On this A-road, at the village sign, a flower pot. Some-one got it into their head to find the bowl, drag it to the edge of the village, fill it with soil and flowers and leave it to welcome strangers. It would have been almost invisible from a car. Why do it?

Close to my destination. The fellow on the right identified me straight up as a LEJOGer!

A lovely minor road through the woods just short of Carlops

LEJOG Day 66: Innerleithen to Peebles

Weather: Warm and sunny

Distance covered today: 14.8km (9.2mi)

Last night's B&B: St Ronan's Hotel (£37.50)

Cumulative distance: 1314.4km (816.7mi)/ % Complete: 68.7%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 66 (click!)

The good weather today was just right for walking!  Initially, I didn’t make much progress to my destination, starting the day by heading south. As usual I was trying to avoid an A-road, in fact the same A-road as I was shadowing yesterday, by reverting to my little back-road. This is my fourth day of walking beside the Tweed River in Tweeddale. I had no idea the valley was so extensive, or, for that matter so difficult to get out of!

By chance, I came across Traquair House, which advertised itself as the oldest inhabited house in Scotland, visited by 27 kings. The Stuarts of Traquair supported Mary, Queen of Scots through thick and thin. I am beginning to understand just how important a figure she is in these parts. I made a little detour to have a look, but decided it was bit too commercialised for my taste, so I chose not to go inside. Afterwards as I was making my way through the extensive gardens to the exit, I wondered if I had made the right choice.  I had plenty of time because today’s walk was again quite short as a result of the geography of the valley (i.e. too far to the next town). That got me to thinking about all the choices I have been making over my journey, and as is my way, that got me to thinking about the impact of all my choices over the years!

I have previously gone on about the amazing coincidences and chance encounters which have led to our existence, or indeed to our current circumstances. Some of these are way beyond our control. Others are simple choices that we make, often totally oblivious of the implications. For very obvious reasons on the open internet, I have chosen to keep my family as anonymous as possible and have purposefully chosen not to talk about my two, lovely daughters, both to avoid embarrassing them, but more importantly to protect their privacy.

But of course their very existence is a matter of the tiniest of chances; the product of an almost infinite number of very unlikely events.  Of course, the vast majority of these chance events are absolutely beyond human control, but equally some do depend on human choice, and of course, on my choices. One of my more pivotal choices took place in a field in Wales!  I wrote previously about my experience in the UK as a graduate, coming to terms with the real world.  This event took place during that period.

In those days hitch-hiking was a legitimate way of getting around and I found myself on the edge of a Welsh town, on the edge of a large field on a B-road, hitching a lift. It was raining, I was feeling a little sorry for myself and every single vehicle that passed me, ignored me. I noticed activity in the adjoining field and it soon became clear that the circus was coming!  Over a couple of hours all the lorries and caravans arrived and there was much activity around erecting tents and generally organising the circus. All this time, no passing vehicle offered me a lift, and down came the rain. Eventually, some of the circus personnel noticed my continuing presence and came over to chat. I told them I was unemployed, directionless and miserable. They suggested I join the circus!

I had to think about this! It was, in those uncertain circumstances, an option! They told me they would have to talk to the Ringmaster, and he wasn’t immediately available, but would soon be back. The more I thought about it, the more it seemed an attractive option! It would be a stable but itinerant community; a genuine and legitimate activity devoid of the intellectualism and privilege of my rather fortunate background. The more I thought about it, the more it attracted me. I had no skills, but they insisted that was how they all started. They argued that the combination of physical effort and mental control would lead to a better place. I was, though aware that I possessed little physical coordination and not much strength. What to do? What to do?

As I wrestled with my decision, I was told by one of my new acquaintances that the Ringmaster had returned, that he had confirmed there was a vacancy and he was coming to see me. In due course, I was informed he was on his way. I saw him approaching across the field. At that moment, I heard the drone and grind of a heavy truck approaching. I stuck my thumb out, almost as an unconscious gesture.  To my immense surprise, the truck stopped and the driver offered me a lift! I looked across the field and saw the Ringmaster approaching. I had to make a decision!!

I have often considered why in that moment I chose the lift. Was it because the truck offered me a way back to my conventional reality? Was it because in that instance, I was confronted by someone eye-to-eye and I took the easy option, implying that I would have chosen the circus if the Ringmaster had arrived first?

I do know that if I had chosen the circus, I would never have met Veronica, and my daughters would never have existed.  Such is chance!  Veronica too will have made innumerable choices any of which might have prevented her from meeting me. And if one just applies that logic over a few generations, let alone over the time of life on Earth, it becomes clear that the probability of our individual existence is infinitesimally small.

Still, I’m fairly certain that my choosing not to enter Traquair House is unlikely to have any far-reaching. let alone existential consequences, though you never know…… 

The rather quaint St Ronan's Hotel in Innerleithen

The imposing lodge at the gate to Traquair House

Looking down towards the house

The walled garden

Traquair House, the oldest inhabited house in Scotland, visited by 27 kings!

Looking back at Innerleithen in the sunshine. I had managed to walk around it almost in a semi-circle

Back to my friend, the River Tweed in Tweeddale

Orchids of some kind?

Another dog-rose for Veronica

The Miller's House next to an old mill

My little back road was putting on weight! It eventually became a busy B-road, but was still very pleasant to walk along. Unfortunately, I inadvertantly switched off my GPS at Traquair House and only realised this further along the route. I have adjusted the statistics accordingly

This sign confused me! Am I in danger, or are they? In the event, I came through unscathed and though I did see a couple of unidentified flying predators in the distance, they seemed supremely untroubled!

LEJOG Day 65: Galashiels to Innerleithen

Weather: Cloudy with threat of rain, but again none

Distance covered today: 20.1km (12.5mi)

Last night's B&B: Watson Lodge (£50)

Cumulative distance: 1300.4km (808.0mi)/ % Complete: 68.0%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 65 (click!)

It all started well enough! The rain was holding off, I had found a really innovative and enjoyable route from Galashiels to Innerleithen and I made excellent time along the way.  I was even charmed by the lovely little village of Innerleithen when I arrived, but then the wheels started to come off! I had booked into a flea-pit called the Tweedside Hotel. When I got there, I was shown my room and for the first time on this journey, I decided it really was barely acceptable. I then found that the bathroom was two flights of stairs away, and the final straw was that the publican had recently dropped his router into the bar sink, which was full of water, so there was no internet!  I might even have accepted the poor conditions, but the absence of internet was for me the final straw! I used the fact that he had advertised the internet as being available as an excuse and backed out.

Fortunately, I found another very acceptable lodging just up the street, called St Ronan’s Hotel. It is pretty basic and quite inexpensive, but everything works and there is even an en-suite! He also had been having problems with his router, but I was in like Flash, and in no time, I was up and running at full power! Then came my next problem!  I had had an inkling of this last night, but something was going very badly wrong with my netbook!  I was able to receive emails, but not to send them! Catastrophe!  Both for business purposes and personal communications I am heavily reliant on my email application. I could of course have reverted to web applications, but I have a number of accounts and it would have complicated my life, not to mention terminated any offline work, which in this line of business is a constant necessity!  Anyway, with the help of the now excellent connection to the web at my new lodging and a few researches in the help forums, plus a new download of the email application, normal service has been resumed! And I haven’t even lost any information or connection settings, so that definitely is worth a tot of malt whiskey later this evening!

As usual though, I am getting ahead of myself. I faced a choice this morning. Either I could choose the Southern Upland Way as a means of getting to Innerleithen, or take the A-roads between the towns. The problem is that as its name suggests, the Upland Way heads straight for the hills, and though we are hardly yet in Highland territory, the hills looked both high and steep. Also the path involved a long loop on what was anyway a fairly lengthy day, adding at least 5-7km (3-4mi) to the journey.  The A-roads on the other hand, travelled along the valleys parallel to the River Tweed through what I imagined was spectacular countryside. I found a small back-road that would travel through the Plora Forest on the other side of the river and my mind was made up!  I would brave the A-road out of Galashiels and head eventually for the mountain side-road. It was the right choice.

For some reason, known only to Scottish officialdom, there was a cycle path/pavement along the entire length of the A-road which I needed to use!  There was anyway little traffic along the road and the views of the surrounding hills were just as spectacular from below as from above. I made the mountain side-road by mid-morning and after that, the walk was just lovely, especially through the Plora Forest, which was apparently established by the monks of the Melrose Abbey way back in the Middle Ages. In fact St Ronan (he after whom my lodging tonight is named) apparently “took the devil by his hind leg and banished him”, which probably means St Ronan converted the locals to Christianity. Sir Walter Scott, who was particularly interested in the Border regions, wrote a novel about the place called St Ronan’s Well, and formalised an annual ceremony, which became the Borders Games, a 10 day long festival that I have fortunately missed by a week or I would never have found accommodation!

Apparently the festival is an important item in the town’s annual calendar. It is easy to see why!  There is very little evidence of any other source of income other than tourism. Apparently, there are two surviving mills which make high-value cashmere garments for export, but that is about it! On the other hand, we can’t be more than about 30mi (50km) from Edinburgh, so I imagine there is a fair amount of commuting. I noticed some really larney houses yesterday in the vicinity of the Eildon Hills which could only have been the properties of rich Edinburgh commuting refugees, so I suspect that I am moving steadily into that sort of country.

The other thing I noticed was the plethora of public service institutions all the way from Melrose, through Galashiels and into Innerleithen. It is well-known that the proportion of public servants north of the border is much higher than in England and in my tiny sample so far, I have certainly seen evidence of it. There also seems to be more spending on public goods. The roads are in excellent condition by comparison with much of the rest of the country, but especially Surrey, which is a comparable distance from London. The footpaths, footbridges and general public amenities such as the public loos, all seem to be well funded and in good shape. I do accept though that it is far too early for me to generalise on all this. For a start, this isn’t Glasgow!  It is a subject though to which I will return. I am particularly interested in how Scotland is facing up to the end of its heavy industry, and indeed how it intends to cope with the end of North Sea oil.

Meanwhile, my trip across the country towards Glasgow continues, but I will first get much closer to Edinburgh, no doubt continuing to make outrageous generalisations as I go, based on my usual method of one or two observations and a whole lot of guesswork!

My last look at the Eildon Hills, disappearing behind Galashiels

Even on the A-road, the countryside was still alive with colour; a sign that there isn't that much traffic?

The bicycle/footpath beside the A-road

The Southern Upland Way would have run along the top of the distant hills

Crossing the Tweed River to my little back road

A moth for Julian

Looking down at the Tweed from my little back road

"Droplets on grass leaves" by Kevin

My little back road winding its way through Plora Forest

The little village of Walkerburn signals that Innerleithen is nearby

And in near record time, I was crossing the old disused railway bridge, now an excellent footpath, towards Innerleithen

The lambs are all still the same age as in Cornwall in April!

He was here before me!

LEJOG Day 64: St Boswells to Galashiels

Weather: Cloudy with threat of rain, but none

Distance covered today: 19.3km (12.0mi)

Last night's B&B: Mainhill (£30)

Cumulative distance: 1280.3km (795.5mi)/ % Complete: 66.9%

GPS satellite track of today's route: Day 64 (click!)

No rain, hardly any mud, a brisk climb up a high hill, a visit to a charming town and an attractive walk down a lovely river and disused railway line! Soul food for the long-distance walker!  I am now getting into my stride away from the specified route of the Pennines and am enjoying finding my way on strange paths and interesting places. Strictly speaking, I didn’t need to climb the highest peak of the Eildon Hills, but when I got to the top of the saddle between them on St Cuthbert’s Way, I met two walkers who insisted it was the thing to do, so off I set. I’m still not sure that it was worth the effort, but it certainly allowed me to look all the way back to the Cheviots and forwards to the hinterland of Scotland which will be my next objective. It was also interesting that I had the energy and the sense of freedom to do it, even with full pack!

The thing that continuously amazes me is the sheer extent of the system of major paths across most of the UK, complete with bridges, styles, gates and waymarks. I was also interested to see that there are more people using paths such as St Cuthbert’s Way than the Pennine Way. It must be that people have been put off by the sheer challenge of the Pennines and prefer to walk the more amenable minor paths, which probably also take them to more places of interest, such as abbeys and attractive villages with teashops! It is also far easier to walk on albeit muddy paths than on the penetrable bogs of the uplands!

In a way, this is a return to normalcy after my sojourn in outer space. It strikes me though that while I was weightless out there, I did do something completely out of character for me, which I failed to report. On my rest day in Bellingham, I made use of an offer by the B&B to have a swim and a sauna at a nearby hotel with which it had an arrangement. I used my pyjama shorts as swimming trunks, which did little to hide my modesty, and just went for it. Apart from one extremely good female swimmer who was frankly far more focussed on swimming endless lengths, there was no-one there to embarrass me, and I had a whale of a time.

It reminded me though of the last sauna I had, which, I’m afraid is another Russian story!  I got quite close to the CEO of a smallish oil company. He was a very impressive person, fluent in English and French, and with a delightfully Russian sense of humour, even though he was Chechnyan in origin. I found it amazing that with his background, he had progressed so far up the Russian hierarchy, but it was the measure of the man. As an entrepreneur, he was forever buying and selling assets on the flimsiest of data, and he often called on me for technical and business advice.

One summer, he phoned me from his dacha on the Black Sea coast at Yalta to ask for some advice on an installation he had bought in the port of Sevastopol. He invited me to join him for an inspection. He always kept his private life very private and in any case I was under strict ethical rules not to accept undue hospitality, and was therefore directed to stay at a luxurious hotel on the coast. I was collected by one of his senior employees who informed me that the boss would join us later at a famous Russian banya (bathhouse) on the coast. My host was of course quite late, which was his style, and I was told that I was to get stuck in before he arrived.

After some initial pleasantries which included coffee and glass of Georgian wine, we got down to business. I was told to strip naked and to go into the steam room. There Lyudmila was waiting, at something like 15 stone, and with a determined look on her ample, Slav features. I was horribly embarrassed! There seemed to be no choice. Anyway, after I had warmed up to something vaguely resembling a boiled tomato, she suddenly got me to lie on an elevated table and attacked me with a birch branch, complete with all its twigs and leaves! She thrashed me all over for some time. Resistance seemed futile. Then suddenly, it was all over and I was instructed to go outside and leap into the freezing Black Sea. Hardly had I struggled, frozen from the grip of the sea, than I was told the whole process had to be repeated, many times.

Eventually, my host arrived. I noticed immediately that he was wearing swimming trunks. I asked him, rather sheepishly why I had had to strip naked, and he looked rather surprised and told me that I should have just refused!

Afterwards, when I reflected on the whole enormously embarrassing episode, I was struck by how much the need to fit in caused me to abandon my own norms. I also wondered just how far one may reasonably be expected to go in search of a business relationship. The trouble is that when you are so far outside your comfort zone, there are few pointers left to what is reasonable behaviour and what isn’t. I really do think I let myself down badly that night; not because there was anything inherently wrong with a Russian banya, but because if I really did feel so horribly embarrassed about it, I should have had the courage of my convictions and insisted on maintaining my dignity within my own prescribed limits.  It was a lesson I learned too late in my business career.

Fortunately, there was no Northumbrian equivalent of Lyudmila in my Pennine sauna. Also, the swimming pool was a lot warmer and the sauna a lot cooler. It wasn’t anywhere near as testing as even my Finnish experiences, where in much more dignified circumstances, I did indeed have a number of business meetings in the sauna, accompanied by unbelievable amounts of alcohol.

For all that, it was relaxing and enjoyable, and the fact that I had pushed myself to take advantage of it is a source of a certain minor satisfaction. Either that or it is further evidence that my frail hold on sanity is fraying further at the edges!

Aging Lothario with young flame

A dog-rose for Veronica

My first objective of the day. I was heading for the cleavage between those two breasts, just over the horizon

Another dog-rose for Veronica

?

?

A delightful mongrel: half Staffie, half Jack Russell

Beautiful patterns inside a fox-glove

Heading through a forest for the Eildon Hills

Approaching the top of Eildon Hill, at 422m (1388ft)

Looking over at the other breast from the top of Eildon Hill. It used to be a Roman Fort

The attractive town of Melrose

The abbey in Melrose

The River Tweed

Swans on a calmer section of the Tweed

I had no idea that the game of Rugby Sevens was invented in Melrose

The disused railway-track to Galashiels

The main street into Galashiels: all multiples and super-stores. Two girls saw me taking this shot and nearly killed themselves with laughter. They had a point!