In The Nude

We arrived at our Scottish bed and breakfast around ten thirty pm. We got a bit lost driving around Edinburgh in our rental car and had absolutely no idea what time it was. Somehow we didn't get the memo about it not getting dark in Edinburgh until midnight. It seriously looked like it was a quarter to six at ten thirty. Mrs. Livingston, the B&B owner, greeted us at the door in her bathrobe. Something about her reminded me so much of my Grandma Brown. Maybe it was her gentle chiding of our failure to call her and let her know we'd be late. It may have been the immaculate cleanliness of the counter-tops and toilets, the vacuum lines fresh in our bedroom, or the pictures of her posterity polka-dotting the walls. Mrs. Livingston got us settled into our room, complete with a panoramic view of Edinburgh through a huge window. She handed us fresh towels and asked us what we would like for breakfast. I slept better that night than I'd slept in months. I was in my grandma's house and I could smell the eggs and bacon cooking below as soon as I woke up.

The next few days we visited Edinburgh Castle, shopped, devoured fudge on the Royal Mile, ate a hearty Scottish meal at Brodie's Tavern, and went for the most breath-taking day trip through the highlands. Each night when we got home, Mr. and Mrs. Livingston would sit us down on their scratchy couch and enthusiastically inquire about every detail of our day's adventures. We didn't feel like we were traveling at all. We felt like we were exploring our homeland and coming home to gab about our journey with grandma and grandpa. Everything was charming and magical about Edinburgh.

At least until Mr. and Mrs. L decided to go for an evening swim...

On our last evening there, Blair and I were up in our room getting ready for bed. We realized that we needed an adapter to charge our camera and decided to ask Mrs. L if she had one. We hadn't spoken to them since we'd gotten home, but we could hear them in their backyard. Mrs. L said to just walk in their living room if we ever needed anything, so I crept down the stairs to ask about the adapter. I knocked on the transparent door to their living room three times, but no response. I cracked the door, peaked my nose through the gap and said, "Mrs. Livingston?....Mr. Livingston???" No answer - just the sound of giggling and talking in the backyard.

I walked in the door, turned the corner to the glass bay windows and to my surprise saw two senior citizens, pale and stark naked in the jacuzzi. I made eye contact with Mrs. L gave a little gasp and high-tailed it up the stairs. I shut the door and blurted, "Pack your things, Blair. We gotta get out of here!" He chuckled, shrugging off my frequent exaggerations and asked what happened. "I saw them skinny dipping in the jacuzzi!!" His eyeballs bulged and then he said, "Ok then. Let's get out of here." We sat there giggling and embarrassed until we heard a woman's voice at the bottom of the stairs, "Blair? Ashley? Are you home yet?" I wanted to die. It was too late for us to jump out the window and shimmy down the drain pipe.

I went down the stairs and greeted Mrs. Skinny Dipper with a shy and innocent smile. She rattled off friendly questions about our day, avoiding the gargantuan elephant of embarrassment in the middle of the room. I asked about the adapter and she pulled one out of an old box of junk. She was acting so casual that I began to wonder if I'd really seen them skinny dipping or not. Maybe she was wearing a flesh colored swimming suit? Oh but old Mr. L walked in the room at that moment with a smirk on his face as he tightened his maroon robe. He let out a low grunting laugh and said, "Well ye caught us in the tub did ya?" He continued his proud laugh and I awkwardly apologized.

I must say, I was thrilled that we were leaving the next morning.

Enjoy some of our photos of beautiful Scotland. No nudes here...not to worry, lads.

May I introduce you to you know who: