Scotland is surprising

Having a hoot in Jedburgh.

Like England, I was never entirely sure what my fascination with Scotland was based on. For some reason I just really wanted to go to there. Possibly for the accents. Definitely not for the bagpipes and haggis though.

We crossed the border into the little town of Gretna Green, famous for "runaway marriages" often performed by blacksmiths. Historically, young couples in England were unable to marry without the consent of their parents until they were both 21 years of age. In Scotland, this law didn't apply: couples could marry without parental consent when the boys were as young as 14 and the girls 12, so many would skip the border into Gretna Green and marry before their angry parents could object. Of course we had a mock marriage ceremony where two Contiki-ers were joined in matrimony over the blacksmith's anvil.

I also bought a whole block of Turkish Delight for only one pound, which I thought was a bit of a bargain.

We then reversed our journey and headed back into England to visit Hadrian's Wall. Now, I'm not sure how many people have heard of children's entertainer Peter Coombe, but I was possibly one of his biggest fans when I was extremely young. He had a song about Hadrian's Wall (where it was claimed that the wall was built not to keep out the Picts, but to keep out cats. If I were in charge, I'd be the one to secretly let the cats in), and this song would not leave my head for the entire day.

Needless to say, the wall was in a bit of a state of disrepair, and our visit involved carefully side-stepping sheep dung as we walked from coach to wall up a hill that seemed extraordinarily steep at the time. We then had an hour to spend (upon hearing this one of our group remarked "A whole hour? What are we meant to do, walk the length of the entire wall or something?").

With an air of history about us and the soles of our shoes encrusted with grass and droppings, we then headed back into Scotland, stopping briefly at the border so we could take touristy shots of the 'Welcome to Scotland!' sign. Here we got our first surprise: a bagpiper playing for tips at the border. Only in Scotland.

The next surprise came soon after, when we stopped off at the town of Jedburgh for lunch. And outside the shop-slash-cafe, I discovered what would turn out to be the highlight of my Scotland experience.

For outside the front of the shop were people with living, breathing, holdable OWLS.

Three of them in total, plus two falcons. I gazed at the owls in fascination because they were feathery, fluffy, fierce and adorable. We were able to pat them, and after donning a protective glove we were able to hold one for a while. It stared at me blankly as I buried my fingers in its feathers and grinned like a maniac. Owls and squirrels are all that's required to make me happy, it seems.

Edinburgh was our next destination, where we were treated to a traditional Scottish three-course meal at a restaurant, plus entertainment from a bagpiper who told us some hilarious stories. I managed to avoid eating haggis, but I did try some Irn Bru (pronounced 'iron brew'), an orange-flavoured soft drink which is apparently more popular than Coca Cola in Scotland. It was a strange experience: I kept expecting it to taste like Fanta, but it wasn't quite the same. More orange-y and vaguely reminiscent of cough medicine.

A party night out in Edinburgh followed. The tour itinerary had promised an experience of the "pumping nightlife" of the city, and I'd envisioned bars and clubs full of people and music and Scottish character. And after the incredibly quiet tour so far, I was keen for something a bit more lively, despite my introverted roots.

Well, the nightlife was hardly "pumping". By the time we'd left the first pub (after ingesting many drinks and whispering apologies to our livers) and had moved on to a dance club, we reached the dancefloor and there wasn't a single other soul present. The music and the lights and the drinks were there, but zero locals or fellow partygoers.

This suited me just fine. It seemed others didn't feel the same way, believing the place to be dull and lacking in atmosphere. I don't know, I didn't mind. We had a dancefloor practically all to ourselves. Besides, it was a Monday night. What did everyone else expect?

Unfortunately I couldn't last any longer than 1am, so decided to catch a taxi back to the hotel with another of the group. Edinburgh by night is quiet, chilly, and all the buildings are shrouded in an eerie fog, obscuring higher floors and giving the place an almost haunted appearance. Thankfully we made it back to the hotel without seeing any ghosts.