Y'all know I am not a fan of being scared. I am also not a fan of being in dark tunnels beneath cities, three floors of thick stone away from fresh air. But because my SIL is braver than I, off on a ghost tour we went tonight. It was fitting weather, rainy and cold (the new coat worked wonderfully, thanks) and after a few good above ground stories of death and dismemberment -- exploding tongues, anyone? -- into the vaults we went. Dark. Damp. Stinking of mold and rot and God knows what else. And there, we saw a ghost. At least, my iPhone saw a ghost. It's a creepy as hell shot, like a face in the dark. I was very happy to get out of there.

Holyroodhouse Palace today, plus a march up the Royal Mile. My calves are screaming, and according to my Fitbit, I've done 13,513 steps, which is almost 6 1/2 miles. Not bad, considering most of it was uphill.

No great food to report today, but I plan to remedy that tomorrow. We're off to Inverness, to the Highlands, and I plan to wallow in cod and cottage pie.

Slàinte!