Arriving at Gleneagles

I won’t get too poetic about our arrival in Gleneagles just yet. Mainly because there’s a whole blog post of that coming in a couple of days and I don’t want to bore you, and two because I know once I get going I probably won’t ever stop- because this place is summin’ else.

I knew it would be somewhere special before we’d even arrived. My dad is a barber, and being a chatterbox (and someone who talks to customers about here there and everywhere) had told me endless things from people he’d spoken to- gearing me up for a stay nothing short of unforgettable. That, and being a bit of a keen eye- had seen lots of posts from Carrie and Amy from their visit last year, so it’s safe to say I was itching to arrive- even as beautiful as Glasgow had been to us.

Also, because I check BBC weather like some kind of pre-teen with their YouTube subscription box, I was very aware that we might even be lucky enough to have a spot of snow- so the inches we had when we arrived certainly delivered on the festive front too. Although I’d definitely packed for an ~editorial version of winter~ (read: ankle boots with no grip, a maxi dress with tights- as if either would keep me warm of serve any kind of purpose) I actually ended up looking like Bobbie from the Railway Children for the duration of our stay- something I’m not entirely unhappy about and have actually now added to my styling repertoire.