We have been to Gordonstoun.
We set the alarm this morning for the astonishingly early hour of seven o’ clock. Regular readers will know that by my standards of early rising this is practically yesterday.
We got our smart clothes on, and I packed our case, and then unpacked and reorganised it, then repacked, then tore a hole in my tights at the last minute and had to frantically hurl everything out of it in the desperate hope that I had remembered a spare pair, which to my profound relief I had, so I stuffed everything back in the case any old how and we were off.
Of course Gordonstoun was lovely. The sun was out, and we walked around the gorgeous grounds listening to the birds and feeling the warmth melting into our souls.
Oliver loved it. He was so nervous he could barely talk, and the more he saw, the more he liked it, and then the more nervous he got. By the time we got to the headmaster’s office he was in such a state of tongue-tied agony he could barely remember his own name: but then something in the headmaster’s gentle questioning, and genuine interest in finding out what he thought helped something inside him untwist, and he grinned a genuine grin and suddenly answered freely.
The headmaster asked him what he liked about the school, and Oliver surprised all of us by replying: “The motto,” which, when pressed for an explanation, he thought would be a good thing to remember in a difficult moment.
The motto is: “Plus est en vous” – “More is in you,” and I rather think I agree with him, we will have to find everything possible in our own selves to send him. Mark and I will have to manage to raise every penny we can and Oliver will have to work until he collapses and make everybody proud of him when Common Entrance comes around.
Afterwards we went over to the harbour to unwind, where we stood on the harbour wall and gazed into the ice-clear northern waters and watched the fish, far below us, and felt weak with determination somehow to achieve it. Oliver watched the waves crashing in over the rocks for a while, and then gave a yell and kicked his shoes and socks off and scampered about on the sand until he had run the effort of being perfectly behaved out of his soul. We looked at the beautiful boats and at one another and thought that we would manage it, one way or another.
On the long journey back south we remembered the headmaster’s question and asked him why he really wanted to go. He thought for a moment.
“I meant it about the motto, ” he said, “that was really true. But as well as that I thought it seemed like somewhere you could be really free. It’s like a place where you can really be yourself and it’s all right. I think it’s amazing.”
It took ages to get back to Edinburgh, and we stumbled back through the welcoming doors of the lovely Caledonian with unspeakable relief.
They showed us our room.
It is divine.
I have had lamb and roasted hazelnuts for dinner, which was every bit as good a it sounds. Now I am curled up on the most comfortable sofa in the most beautiful bedroom. It can’t be the honeymoon suite because there are two double beds, but it is beyond glorious. Out of our window there is the most amazing view that quite deserves to be called a vista, of the city in all its glory stretching out to the sea.
In the most touching display of kindness you can imagine they have put a bottle of champagne and two glasses in our room.
When the concierge wrote to us before we arrived I made some feeble joke about not being able to have a romantic champagne weekend because of having a contraceptive ten year old with us, and so the lovely, lovely hotel has put a bottle of the most beautiful champagne on ice in our bedroom.
I cried a little bit.
I want you to know that the world is a place full of the kindest people and the happiest surprises.
I love Scotland. The Scots are the nicest, friendliest, most welcoming people in the world.
I am going to have all my holidays here for the rest of my life.
