Sometimes, even though everyone over here speaks English, Jon and I manage to completely miss what's being said. While sitting at dinner one night at Harriet's home (Strone House), the discussion transitioned to what we'd all be doing the next day.
It was determined that we were going up to the "bothy." There were some intimating winks and nudges from around the table; but, whatever the inside joke was, we had obviously missed something. Finally, Jon asked, "wait, are be talking about a brothel?"
Everyone, of course, found this hilarious, as they were most certainly NOT talking about a brothel (or "brothy" as it was later dubbed). In Scotland, little cabins are called bothies. Harriet's family had one up on their property-- it was the cutest little one room log home with a very serious wood burning stove in the middle. We went up an had lunch the next day... giggled about more about the prospect of a little "brothy" in the middle of nowhere... and slid around on the lochs nearby (until we heard the ice start to crack).
A beautiful little river runs through the property at Strone. We had to brave some very steep stairs, but the view of an old hydrogenerator and icicle structures that formed along the banks were well worth it.
SO BEAUTIFUL!
In front of Strone House is this adorable lochlin (a little lake, aka a pond), that froze over. Tom, Harriet's boyfriend, managed to smash a rock though the centre and we realised the ice was super thick-- which was fantastic because we were kind of worried we'd fall through (YOLO!).
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