A Scottish Salutation

Valiant TASPers-in-arms,
Much-missed mischief-makers,
What ho!
Greetings!
I hope you are all well and adjusting to "normal life." More and more, TASP reminds me of Hogwarts (minus the sex, of course, Tyler). TASP was a wonderful place where we went to school and had lovely adventures, a place which, as Max and some others articulated during the "TASP conversation," was somehow removed from the outside world. Now, alas, we’ve been chucked back to our ordinary muggle lives.
The past few days have gone by awfully quickly. On Wednesday the family unit had dinner at the Atholl Hotel with my mother’s godmother. She’s a very nice lady whose great passion is musical theatre: like Miranda, she’s especially fond of Andrew Lloyd Webber. At the moment, she’s looking forward to going to see the West End revival of Evita in October. On Thursday I had a very pleasant morning freezing the computers at the library up the street in an effort to access the Internet. (The librarians really were good-natured, and didn’t eat me alive, even though they had every right.) I did eventually succeed in my quest, and must admit I laughed out loud when I read Breanna’s comment on Ruben’s Facebook. Snaps, snaps. In the afternoon, the familial unit went to Castle Fraser. Yesterday (Friday) we went to Crathes Castle. Castle Fraser is certainly more imposing and expansive from the outside, but it may be overly spacious; Crathes, on the other hand, is really just a rather sturdy, portly tower, crammed to the turrets with wonderful painted ceilings, cosy wood, tartan upholstery, etc., looking very romantic amongst the Chinese trees in its garden. (That is one of the wonderful aspects of Britain, in my opinion: one can find history peeking out at one behind the nearest hedge.) Both are delightful. I do hope I get to see Fyvie Castle while I’m here though: it’s my very favorite castle. I am especially fond of the main staircase.
As you may have discovered by way of the news media, there have been a great deal of security fun and games on this side of the Atlantic recently. I was "jammy," as a Scottish person would say: my journey on Sunday went incredibly smoothly, but five days later, it might have been a very different story indeed. If my flights on Saturday and Sunday really were the last on which I shall have been permitted to take hand luggage, I’m glad I (inadvertently) made the most of the occasion. Let’s see, in my purple backpack was squashed, at one time or another, in addition to the "essential items" (plane tickets, passports, etc.) one is now allowed to take on board, a laptop, a change of clothes, two scarves, my TASP "yearbook," two newspapers, a box of sushi, chopsticks, a bottle of Starbucks’ finest mocha, a bottle of water, the CD of TASP photos, headphones, three sizeable books (Long Walk to Freedom, Africanisms in American Culture, and Strange Lands and Friendly People), a cell phone, a legal notepad… Security must have had a fit when they saw me trundling toward the Washington Dulles-London Heathrow flight.
Actually, these new security measures are probably a blessing in disguise. I speak as someone whose mother insists on packing fifteen sets of spare clothes- jumpers and raincoats for Britain, sandals and T-shirts for America- in addition to everyone’s sponge bag, and goodness knows what else into the capacious familial carry-ons. Moreover, one shan’t have to navigate those annoying overhead lockers. Yes, apart from the tedious separation from the beloved laptop (I don’t trust those rough baggage handlers with the precious), these new security measures seem to work massively in the voyaging youngling’s favour.
Alright, I must away! I am currently swearing quietly because Arabic is all filled up at the university. Curses… I feel much better now that I’ve seen the lovely pictures and posts on Facebook. Leonel? In tears? Not our Superman, surely! Do tell… Now I'm off to read everyone else's posts.
Vous me manquez…