Speaking of battlefields yesterday made me remember a few other memorable things. I've driven through Glencoe many times, in good weather and bad, and not felt a twinge.
Hermitage Castle is dour on the best of days, and holds terrible stories of boilings in oil and dungeons where people were forgotten. There is no spookiness but I don't think I'd like to be left there overnight. Come to think of it, I wouldn't want to be left overnight in Newcastle Keep, either.
But...I went to Bosworth Field on a glorious warm sunny day and walked down to the stone that marks the spot where Richard died. It is a small grassy corner, surrounded by trees, and a stream nearby. Nothing dramatic, only a stone, for all the world like a smaller version of the Callanish stones, yet ... tears welled and I could not stop them. I think I embarrassed the friend who was with me. 
And talking of the Callanish stones reminds me...I visited one of the outlying rings with my sister-in-law and nephew. This was many years ago, when he was about twelve. It was a bright breezy day and we fooled about a bit until I found that one of the stones seemed warm. Only one, and only for me. If I stood close to it, the wind died, and the stone warmed me. I ought to go back one day, and see if it is the same.
