Remembrance: Aged Statues

When I was a lad I occasionally walked across Edinburgh's North Bridge, a major thoroughfare that continues to bear thousands of passersby daily.  On occasion I woud note the statues placed upon the high walls on either side.  The walls were high to discourage desperate individuals from climbing over them and jumping into the Waverly Station below.  I noticed the individuals on this statue had what we call 'Pith helmets' on their heads, indicating service in hot countries.  It was some time before I realised this concerned th 'Boer War,' a war that occurred to much jingoist outburst during the years 1888-1902.  This means the war ended 49 years before I was born and yet I knew almost nothing about it when young.  In fact an occasional mention might have been made in the comics we read or some history book we came across, but no real information was found to my notice.  Our minds were full of the much more recent Second World War in which almost every person over 25 had served.  

Ask young folks today about the Boer War and some will have been educated concerning this during history lessons, ask them about the Great War and they may be more aquainted with that.  Ask the 'man in the street,' and I expect few would know much about the Boer War, indeed many may not even have heard of it.  

I mention this as I read that young people today, and most are young to me, are not wearing the 'Poppy' that remembers those who fell in two wars and the little wars since.   This is interesting yet not surprising.   Youth is looking for fun and joy, excitement and adventure, wars and killing are not seen as this these days.  There are of course major wars not far away and this may be a turn off for many.  On top of this we remember those who died in two wars, the last being 80 years ago, when I was young a far off war about which I knew nothing was only 50 or so years in the past, why should today's youth think differently?  

A great many adults no longer seek to wear a poppy,what their reasons are can only be guessed.  Possibly the war to them is far away now, and they have no connection to it which they wish to keep.  Those however, who were born just before, during or not long after the war still have a connection to the experience.  Many had a father who served, or even died, a great many had mothers who worked 12 hour shifts for the war effort, some remember the fighting men based near them, the aircraft above and the bombs crashing down on their homes.  

Such as these do remember well.

However, time is passing, soon these two massive conflicts whose effects are still with us will be forgotten like the Boer War.  The 'Boomers' are dying off, the memories are being crowded out with later wars, and society as a whole appears to have little interest in caring for servicemen who are disabled while serving their country.  Much of this is understandable, the third and fourth generation are far from the wars now, and it was ever thus.  

Those of us who can remember those who served, in our family or around us, will remember.  Many will join with those who now make displays for remembrance, though in fact this is all too often just another version of 'English Nationalism,' pandering to a desperate attempt at using ththese past wars to engender a patriotism for today, it is not remembrance of the dead from the past.  Since the first 11th November the date has been used and abused by many, let us remember it correctly.

 

'Lost Edinburgh' by Hamish Coghill

Another excellent 2nd hand book, dated 2008, reprinted several times, lastly 2016.  Is there any other way to find such books?  Bookshops close, prices rise, and Amazon and World of Books (via Amazon) are the best at the moment.

In my mind Edinburgh has always been an ancient city going back a thousand years or so.  The buildings on the High Street were to me very old and well able to speak of Kings and Queens, rich and poor, famous men abounding and history likewise.  

I was wrong!

While many buildings do indeed go back into the distant past so many were rebuilt during the 17th and 18th centuries, often because of fire and slum clearance, that so many aged buildings are in fact mere Victorian rebuilds.  The older ones, often of wood, long gone. 

From the days of 8500 BC when man created settlements, possibly temporary, down at Cramond, the area has always been inhabited.  The hills, some formed from hopefully still dead volcanoes, provided excellent sites for fortifications when families became tribes and the resources were sought by others. 

The most famous and longest lasting being Edinburgh Castle, a very strong fortification but unlikely to hinder anyone today, not with all these tourists in the way.

Hamish Coghill, a very Scottish name, begins his work in the distant past and takes us through the many famous buildings, now often discovered in ancient literature, informs us of their loss and what may have replaced them.   

The city was of course altered occasionally by English thugs, sometimes burning it to the ground because that is what the followers of St George do, and continue to do these days as we saw recently.  However, most alterations came through the need for improvements, slum clearance, fire, and occasionally a building collapsing because it was not cared for.  

Paisley Close marks the spot when in September 1861 a seven story tenement, dating back around 300 years, suddenly collapsed.  On the ground floor as in normal practice there were several shops including a bakers and a grocers.  The grocer, one Mr Cairns had become concerned about the cracks appearing in his shop and the paint beginning to loosen.  A builder was called who claimed it was not too serious and promised to return on the Monday with his men to deal with this.  There was also a rumour, but no evidence, that the baker had removed a supporting wall to enlarge his business, and some complained about creaking and rumbles in the wall.  However, the owner does not appear to have been informed or concerned and late at night the building and the 77 people within collapsed.  

Through the night rescuers fought to save those inside the ruins.  Among them a voice crying "Heave awa men, I'm no deid yet."  It is possible, but not proven, that this was Joseph McIvor, a 12 year old who had fallen down four storeys and had the rest of the house land on him.  It took some time to retrieve him as he was trapped by a large beam, but it appears his demeanour never let him down.  

Advocates Close, before clearances

Joseph was of course lucky, 35 others did not survive.  This however, caused consternation and gave great support to those who were already agitating for reforms in housing and health.  The aged city centre was by the 18th century mostly housing the lower orders, those who could moved into the more airier parts of town.  This left the poor in slumland and Dr Henry Littlejohn was appointed as the cities first Medical Officer of Health, a role arriving slowly throughout the land, in 1862 and three years later issued a report on the conditions in the town centre.  This led to many buildings being removed, wooden or stone built so many were unhealthy and dangerous, thus giving Edinburgh a cleaner healthier city.  

This was helped by fire, a constant threat in a closely bound city, and on occasions sever buildings were destroyed in this way and the inhabitants, both private and commercial are out on the street.  One such in 1824 took several days to die out, leaving huge areas of the Lawnmarket  destroyed.  The rebuilding was quick, the losses massive.

The 1865 report led to changes and was mostly responsible for the centre having this appearance, however, the creation of the North and then South Bridge again caused demolition of famous buildings.  The city then prospered enough to move out wider and wider, offering healthier living and less fire danger.

This has not stopped.  Edinburgh is much greater since I lived there.  Old buildings have been removed, many benefiting the city, some not so much.  Large housing estates arrived before and after the war, some of these have been amended since to provide better living areas and hinder the ever rising drug crime.  

The book Hamish has given us is very readable, it took me a short time to finish this.  The book is full of information, many illustrations reveal what was lost and what preserved, and Edinburgh remains one of the greatest tourists attractions in the world.

Read this book!

View From Above

Sitting here admiring the daffodils beside me brightening my world.  The clouds disperse for a moment to allow tantalising glimpses of blue sky, then continue northwards at pace.  Sometimes I wish I could float along with them, head north, fly over the land observing the world like a bird, though preferably without being blown off route.   

The world is a different place from up high.  Those early pioneers who risked their lives to fly in the first balloons or the early flying machines could benefit from being the first to view their world from a height.  How lucky they were.  Of course, the fact that many died in doing this does make it less enjoyable.

Since the end of the Great War photography from the air has had many benefits. Those internet maps for one, archaeology greatly helped by air observation, and governments keeping an eye on one another's defence capabilities most of all.  

Sometimes however, it can be useful to us as individuals.  Away back in the early 1960's my brother joined the RAF as a photographer.  Here he learned the strict standards that were required, and also observed pictures taken at high altitude by RAF planes engaged in secret missions.  One such secret mission, no longer secret, was Bob asking a pilot heading up to Leuchers airport in Fife to take a couple of pictures of our home as he passed.  I have found two, a third, much clearer shot, has disappeared into my files somewhere.  At the top of this picture a main road crosses  right to left at an angle, from it a small, narrow road heads north.  Opposite this wee road lies the block in which I spent many years developing into the idiot I became.  I was probably at school when this occurred.  Such aircraft often flew over us, most of which have long since been scrapped or lie in some aircraft museum somewhere.

Observation from the air is difficult.  I can recognise my area from this picture, but would I if flying over it?   Flying over regions known to the flyer does not mean recognition comes easily.  The land below is hard to define, and only obvious places can be identified, coastlines, castles, or towns like Milton Keynes which stand out like a sore thumb below.  Landing at Edinburgh these days we fly in over the Forth of Forth, even from that I can recognise the various docks but too a long time to find our abode. 

Sadly,  today I remain on the ground. 

Edinburgh

 

The rain hammering past the window, reminded me that this is the start of the 'Edinburgh Fringe Festival,' something I never attended.  Edinburgh's changeable weather will not stop a billion people descend on the city, obstructing the streets, hindering people going about their business, and scaring the locals into taking a holiday in far away places, like Berwick on Tweed or Peebles.  Indeed, the locals always make for the hills rather than endure the crush of southern softies blethering about their pitiful 'art.'  

In my say, when colour had not yet been introduced to the city, the Festival proper got under way and we all ignored it.  This was because it was too highbrow for many, or just too expensive.  Today, I might be tempted by some of what is pon offer there.  The 'Fringe' grew up later, London actors, theatre companies, comedians, perverts and hangers on, all came to Edinburgh and tried to become an overmnight success.  Some did.  Others failed, some failed yet became a success.  Paul Merton is one, he is renown for his TV and radio appearances and happy to admit that in Edinburgh he was fired twice in one night, his act being so poor. 

I wonder if I would bother about the 'Fringe' now?  I almost went back in the day, but somehow it just did not happen.  Did I miss anything?  I had other things on my mind then, but maybe I ought to have looked in anyway.  Today, I just could not be bothered.

Anyway, I am glad I do not need to fight the crowds there, tourists are bad enough.

 

Proper football begins tomorrow, well one begins tonight actually.  The league business begins, anger, bad referees, bad tackles, managers sacked, venom, shooting, crossing, rain, wind and fire, all in every game, big or small.  I canny wait!

By the time last season eventually ended I was sick of football.  Far too many games, and the play-offs just went on too long.  This season ends and a competition of some sort begins, world cup or Euro's, I know not which.  There are so many competitions these days I don't know what half of them are now.

But tnight, an exciting Arbroath v Dundee United will grip the nation!  Especially as the wind and rain are gtting up and the North Sea is a mere ten yards form the pitch!  It will be grand.

Snowballs and a King and Queen

Baking With Granny

I was watching a film clip from the war regarding the lack of food, and they pointed out that in the film you never saw a fat person.  Of course many were in the services, and others had not been eating that well from well before the war.  Today however, you rarely see a man without his belly filling his shirt.  Don't look at me like that.

Kids we see are mostly thin, school checks on their lunch habits helps here, and careful mums and the 'cost of living' has helped keep some slim.  Adults on the other hand are fat!  Several reasons for this, one is wealth.  I spite of everything most people have enough, and enough to eat more than they require, thus getting fat.  The word 'obese' is used today to avoid giving pain to fat people, I will use 'fat' as that is what causes the bulges everywhere.  Wealth, greed, poor choices of foodstuffs, and carelessness are the main causes in my view.  

Those who are poor however, may put on weight by eating badly by indulging potatoes, chips, bread, and in my case bread and sugar as it was cheap and filling.  That was about 1980, I reached 13 stone then, and considered myself fat!  Today, having lost two pounds, I am under 15 and a half.

The trick is the 'balanced diet,' this I work on, but very slowly this time.  

The snowballs in the picture, a recipe is on that site, like the 'fly cemeteries, and wee brown round things I never knew the name off, are reminiscent of the buns we found in bakers shops in my youth.  The bakers shops of Edinburgh are one reason we were healthier in the past in comparison to today.   

In any supermarket mum will buy stiff for the kids.  These biscuits, cakes etc, are all mass produced, full of add-ons, and the explanation means nothing, and all have an effect on kids, along with the chemical sweeteners in the drinks they choose.  

My mum used to bake cakes, not fancy, but using her own flour etc.  These were similar to the cakes and buns bought in local bakers, as the baker also used similar material, devoid of chemical add-ons and fed us happily without offering a long term problem.  Most mums did similar.  They were healthier than those found in fancy bakers today, although I am sure small bakers still produce their own bread, cakes and buns in similar fashion, but the costs keep going up and trendies demand fancy, not basic stuff thee days.

Basic feeding produces healthier kids, maybe more granny's are required to cook...?

Yahoo

The King arrived in Edinburgh to receive his coronation again.  In a vain attempt to pretend Scotland matters, other than as a storehouse for England's requirements, he arrived with full pomp at St Giles Kirk and was presented with the sword, mace, and crown of Scotland.  This he did not place on his head, I wonder why?  A short service, directed by Charlie himself, with all the required high heid yins in place, and a number of hanger-ons who will boast of this for many a day,  a parade of military personnel, a lack of violent or offensive protestors, Andrew was not present, and a handful of professional republicans, mostly from the west coast, and the party retreated to Holyrood House and dinner.

I watched this for the historical interest and because it is an event, and we all like to see an event.  There is a need for some pomp at such times, though the truth is the royals are not as popular in Scotland as in imperialist England.  Slightly left of centre Scotland does not like to bow the knee to those who get above themselves.  This does not means the couple are disliked, and who actually knows what they are like?  But it shows Scots want more input into the choice of king.  I suspect dim Willie will not be popular in any way whatsoever, and his publicity seeking wife will be told to cut costs or scram.

I fear she will end up like his mum, playing with the Tabliod's and suffering because of them. 

The usual voices spoke in the Kirk, but what the moderator of the Church of Scotland was talking about I could not understand.  I expected her to mention the cross, the saviour, and what his will really is, but she blethered in an American accent for a while and the royal four looked somewhat bemused. I was disappointed with her.  

Another event over, another block on the business life of Edinburgh, another excuse for pontificating in the English owned and controlled media.  All very tiring isn't it?

Edinburgh, People and Tenement

 

It has been a boring day.  Rising with the dawn, almost, and working through some of the jobs that have been left undone has not been exciting.  The 'Chick Pea Soup' appeared to be a grand idea this morning when I began making it.  The 'Somme Mud' that I ate disheartened me a little.  At least it is good for me, bar the taste.

So, to get out of myself I went back to 'Tenement Town,' and read through the lives of those Edinburgh worthies who have gone before.  Normally, the media is full of people's private lives and I spend little time reading about what celebs and the famous get up to.  However, the brief tales dragged from old Edinburgh papers do make me want to know more.  

These tenements are far from where I grew up, the picture above is the tenement far from the centre of town, where I first trod the earth.  Edinburgh is full of them and I suspect the tales offered in the website are no different from the tales that must have taken place amongst the residents here.  

One thing stands out, the 'Demon drink!'

Men and women take to drink very easily, in these tales here we see much abuse from violent men, often in tears of regret when sober, hardship for children, the worse this becomes the further back we go when no social assistance was available, and then there are the accidents, falling out of fourth floor windows and the like, all caused by drink.

The next major item that appears in my mind is the illnesses.  Tuberculosis being often mentioned, and other diseases that we no longer have, because of vaccinations and a proper NHS, something this Tory government wishes to kill.  So many people, children to adults, die from sickness unheard of today in the UK.  Occasionally, a worker is forced to work in terrible weather while suffering some illness, this results in a heart attack, does this, I wonder, upset the boss?  Accidents happen, young workers falling down hoist lifts, children under cars (1913) holding the axle and letting go only to be run over by a taxi following.  Children, as we know, can invent new ways to kill themselves without any adults aid.  

Overall, I just felt so depressed that so many people appeared to have such unhappy lives.  Not just long working hours, poor pay and conditions, being worse the further back you go, but so many find alcohol the only fun they have, or indeed an escape from either pain or life.  Others find escape by crooked dealings, one by renting a flat, then renting it out himself, after pawning flat items, and then jumping on the London train.  He got 60 days!  My favourite man is the one who lost a £1 note, (1881) and put an advert in the paper asking if anyone had found it!  For many, £1 was almost a months wages, for the skilled man a reasonable weeks.  

Anyway, reading about this lot made my day in some ways.  Human beings do not change their nature.  Down through time we do not change.  Our culture is motivated by our understandings, and clearly, Edinburgh, in times past had some very confused people, groping through life seeking some satisfaction.  No change today I expect.

Lauriston Castle

 

This is one of my highly intelligent, beautiful, and clever great nieces.  This one obtained her parchments in Archaeology, and has begun to make short video's of Edinburgh and Scotland's history.  

I am so proud of this lassie.  Good looking, wise, clever, with bouncy personality, knowledgeable, and well able to put over her knowledge to inform and entertain us.

She is a bit like me...

 

What?...oh!

A short video and hopefully you will like it.

 

Bank Holiday Drivel

Being a Bank Holiday, one I did not realise was in the air until late last night, the weather has arrived as normal.  Bright clouds in the morning, rain threatening ones now.  This is how UK weather works.  It offers the prospect of sunshine early on, waits until the family have ventured out into the great outdoors, and darkens the skies, ruins the day, adding extra rain if possible, and leaving tension and fury abundant.  It happens all the time and they still fall for it.  Men in shorts, dark glasses fixed, walk past ignoring the chill in the air and muttering about cold drinks for lunch.  The English, probably the stupidest nation on earth.  I mean, who else would still try to claim Brexit worked?  And this why we find them adjusting the dark glasses in the rain!

I remain closeted indoors.

With nothing happening, and the only live football not appearing on my screen, I am forced to think for myself about the world around me.

Silence.

I tried coffee but this did not inspire.

No news to react with.  Nothing but fillers concerning Charlie's big day.  An occasional murder, a grumpy tv presenter, and myriads of Bimbo's in the media.  Nothing worth noting.

I have watched the steam engines on the West Somerset Railway passing by.  This was interesting, though I would much rather have been there on the train itself.  In fact my Railcard, offering reduced travel, ran out and I had hardly used it and therefore got no bargains from it.  That must be changed and I must get onto a train soon.

I could read books, there are plenty I am reading all at the same time alongside me.  But the effort is so trying.  They must be lifted, carried, opened, read and sometimes thought about.  Too much on a Bank Holiday I say.

I discovered this the other week, this has some interest.  The author runs around Edinburgh tenements

seeking the stories of those who have lived there in times past.  He checks on them through the local papers.  The lives lived are mixed as much as you can imagine in Edinburgh.  Rich and poor, good and bad, but all worth a look I say.  ''Tenement Town' sums Edinburgh up nicely.  Large and dominating tenements thrive in Scotland.  This was due to the 'Feu Duty.'  A tax paid to the owners of the land.  This did not exist in England, and the way around this was to build tenements four story's high.  Each had four flats on a floor and this meant in buying one flat you only paid part of the 'Feu.'  The flats were usually then 'let out.'  I was reared for almost three years in one before moving to the then, new estate.  Some were inhabited by those with money, others like us!  The better ones had a complicated door mechanism.  The front door, the main door was locked.  The brass bells were on the side, you chose one and pulled hard.  This rang a bell outside the chosen flat, if they wanted you they came to their front door, pulled another brass lever, this clicked it's way to the main door, lifted the latch, and allowed entrance.  I remember many of the better buildings having these in the 60's.  I suspect the lower orders moving in has either meant the main door is unlocked or new bells are installed, with a phone attached!

Thursday? What Day is it...?

This Magpie was chancing his luck yesterday.  I caught him from a fair distance via a dirty window.  He was sitting quite contentedly in the area belong to the Crows of this parish.  Had they seen him there would have been a stramash of epic proportions.  These birds are very jealous of their roost and the surrounding area. He was not in their roost, that is over the other side, but this is their feeding grounds and had he met them then he would have been their feed.  

A bird has a difficult life.  From learning to fly, by being pushed out of the nest by mum, to seeking food, nuts, worms, beetles, scraps etc, and all the while keeping a wary eye on larger birds or other animals that might delight in making you lunch.  You never see small birds just resting, their heads are always warily on the move, one eye on the surroundings.  A little bit like me wandering around Tesco this morning.

Thursday is a good day to shop.  It once was the town's 'closed day,' a chance for those forced to work Saturday's to have a day off.  Some still close Thursday but it has really come to an end that attitude.  However, the townspeople still react by not shopping on Thursday, all shops take less on that day than any other, the museum was the same.  Naturally, for this reason I try to shop Thursdays each week.  I will pop up to Sainsburys for bread and milk on Saturday but hopefully all other items are now in.  

It was once the norm for each town to have a 'half day closing,' in Edinburgh when I was a boy it was Saturday!  Until the 60s Edinburgh's main shops closed on Saturdays, Leith on the other hand closed on Wednesday's.  That explains why I was dragged through Leith on a Saturday, in spite of the crowds, and 'up town' on other days.  All very confusing for a wee boy.  

Today almost everywhere is open all the time, holidays included.  Easter and Christmas may see a day off for many, but even deliveries to your house may be made seven days a week, rather than a more sensible five days and Saturday morning.  

The nation requires a rest day.  The idea that we can have what we want, when we want it, sounds fine, unless you are forced to work those days.  Busy traffic seven days a week outside your house may benefit some, but it does not do you much good.  Living in big cities or towns does have advantages, it is also noisy, polluted and horrible at times.  Having this seven days a week lowers the lifespan, stress, neighbours, noise, all add up and wear you down.  We need a day off.

The Romans had many days off for 'religious' reasons.  Some say they took a month off altogether once a year, if I read that right.  Less lucky people do not get a day off, let alone a week.  How lucky we are.

The biblical one day off to rest and worship God, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,"  is a good way to deal with things.  Six days is enough for most to obtain what they want, few really need to shop on a Sunday, no matter what most say, and I have done seven day shifts in the past, plenty of time to obtain the needful.  A quiet street, even a busy one is always good, the locals need it, the people need a day to themselves, and not like it was in the 50s where nothing at all happened, and the parks were locked in some places.  Enjoyment must be the thing on such a day, not more misery.

I should talk like this.  Once more I had to check the calendar and the laptop to ensure this is Thursday the 23rd.  Each morning I have to ask 'what day is it?'  A day off would just confuse me!

New Years Day, 2023

 

The new year started with a damp saunter down to the Kirk.  The clouds did their best to hinder the sun brightening the morn.  Few were out this early.  A couple of dog walkers were dragged along by eager pooches, a car passed now and again, and a patrol car containing two sleepy officers wended its way down the road hoping everyone would stay quiet, at least until they were awake.  

Many were missing today from church, family gatherings, the cold bug, and left overs from Christmas keeping people inside.  A lot of old women will not come out when the weather is dodgy either.  Still, we managed to murder a couple of songs, pass our bugs onto one another, discover how many had fallen down or been manhandled by the kids or dogs over Christmas, and made our way home rejoicing, sort off.

I failed to 'see in' the new year last night, I was asleep by 11 pm, and even the fireworks from those who ought to know better did not trouble me much.  On YouTube someone walked about Edinburgh at night, offering the live view of the rain drenched city.  People massed about, glittering lights glittered, and wet streets offered an opportunity to break a leg or two.  The thought of mixing with crowds was far indeed from my mind as I watched.  I was glad to be sitting here wearying myself watching others.  

It is now when I come to understand the attitudes of the older generation I knew when young.  Why is it we understand things long after the time when we require to understand things?  And why do young folks have all the energy when people like us, over 35, need the energy more than they do?   

Life can be so unfair!

At this time people tend to either look back or look forward, to my mind it makes no difference.  Whether it is the 1st day of January or the middle of summer life, will go on as it is.  There will be hard times, tragedies, sad occasions.  There will also be good times, excitement, joy and happiness, often.  Just as life normally offers.  

You go into the year trusting yourself, and that has seen you through so far hasn't it?  I go trusting Jesus, well usually, knowing he will always be there, usually gnashing his teeth and asking "Why did you do that?"  He has been leading me for 50 years or so and I cannot fault him, though I have let him down often.  He is our only hope, in good times and in bad ones.  He never fails.

 

I hope you have a 'Happy New Year' indeed.

 

Money, Wales and Clever Great Niece

Another day of rushing about to spend money.

At least I have found a way to spend an unusual gift card I received some time ago.  It has taken several months to find someone who will take it online.  Tomorrow I spend it!  

I had to purchase Amazon cards for some folks Christmas and birthdays.  When I got a note from my niece to say her daughter was getting her 'Masters' online, which meant I had to put aside watching Wales lose to Iran and go online to Edinburgh University to watch her!  This formal extravaganza, full of pomp and more pomp, meant watcher a line of clever people walk up, be doffed on the head by the man in robes, and pass on.  Luckili Rhiaan came on quite quickly, so I could return to watching the poor football.

However this does mean I have to send her a congrats card, which means put an Amazon card in with it, which means more expense.  It also means her dad and mum will now loudly reiterate the phrase used quite often in recent years, "Get a job!  A 'Masters' in Archaeology will not make that easy.  Looks like McDonalds again...

Wales disaster means they must beat England, and this does not look likely.  Tonight England imperialists take on the former colony of USA.  Which side am I on...?

 

Stanhope Forbes

 

Night Trip in the 80s

Reading a book on rail travel my mind returned to the days of long ago when I regularly caught a late night train from Kings Cross Station to Edinburgh.  I canny mind who informed me of this train, especially as it did not stop in Edinburgh, but I boarded the thing anyway.  When I say it did not stop, what I mean is that it was not meant to stop there officially, this stop did not appear on the timetable, yet stop there it did, at 3 am in the morning.

Once I knew about it I made for it.  I am sure it left about 10 in the evening, but memory says it was 8 pm, however, it was a slow train, not an express, and the luxury about it was the fact that all the coaches were aged corridor coaches.  Indeed, these had long been pushed aside for the open plan coaches normal today, and being made up of small compartments, with very few passengers travelling late at night, it was very comfortable.  The lighting in the compartment could be dimmed, most important for night travel, and once aboard and settled in there was nothing to do but enjoy the dark view of the world outside passing slowly by.  Some things did pass by quickly of course, express passenger trains full of express passengers, goods trains, which we now refer to as 'freight' for some reason, and often we would slow to a dark halt in a loop and wait while something flew past in a hurry.

This was a great experience for young me.  I was never disturbed, except by a man in a peaked cab looking for tickets, and once a group of young soldiers looked in, growled and made their way to the far end and exercising in the Cairngorms.  Good luck to them!  

Travelling at off-peak times was my preference, and this train was off-peak.  The night view from a dimmed compartment gave a differing outlook from the dreary day.  Lights appeared here and there, pausing near a block of houses, some were lit up, most in darkness, an occasion pair of green eyes watching from beneath a hedge, red flashing lights high up in the distance, and passing movements in the opposite direction, lit passenger trains, dark bulky goods ones.  Stations were not quite bare of people.  Well lit, a railwayman walking about here and there, at least in the larger stations such as York.  Anoraks,  sorry, enthusiasts, two far from young men at York in the middle of the night, eagerly recognising a number on one of the coaches.  This appeared to I to be one step too far with train watching.  Travelling at low speed watching the houses in the distance, traffic flowing on major highways, occasional cars on lesser roads.  Shops signs lit up, industrial units with steam from vents and chimneys, with obscure dark shapes looming up and passing by  silently.  

We would arrive at the Waverley on time almost exactly, and once I was confident the train would actually stop and not drop me at Dundee or Aberdeen, I would 'alight' as they say into a near empty station.  Usually two or three at most taxi's would sit there hopefully, a knock on the window, a sleeping driver awake, muttering "Three O'clock," and coming back to life, I would be driven home in style.    

I enjoyed those journeys, soon to be amended with the introduction of a new service, via the west coast for some reason, in open coaches with far too bright lighting.  On one occasion this broke down, almost all passengers were grateful and slumbered happily, none complaining to the guard when he informed us of the problem.  On another trip I was met by an elderly (to me then) Pakistani man who chatted happily about his business in Aberdeen.  He was pleasant, kind and good company, and I did not wish to tell him to leave me alone so I could sleep.  He drifted of somewhere about the midlands and we snoozed uneasily into an Edinburgh dawn.

It is time I got back on a train!

   

King of Scots

 

There was a time when I could take a picture of the moon and, with a few strokes on 'Photo' make it legible. This is a talent I have lost. I need to fix something in the camera but my ailing mind canny mind what to do.  First world problems.  

A further problem is waking up early, wondering what Sunday will bring, and two hours later realising it is Monday.  Then I make out a list of things to do, do some, and spend the rest of the afternoon ignoring the list while watching the King in Edinburgh. 

 

 

How lovely to see the Crown of Scotland, designed by James V. a couple of years before his demise.  Note the lack of stolen diamonds upon it!  James was the last Monarch to die in Scotland until Liz.  This shows how often they returned here!

Charles will become a 'King of Scots.'  Note, he does not become 'King of Scotland.'

He does not own the land as the King of England does.  Scots are far more democratic than their neighbours.  If the King fails then he is democratically removed, usually with a sword.    

How boring is the BBC coverage?  Huw Edwards pratling on, put in his place by a Scottish historian regarding invasions and he quickly changed the subject BBC style.  I wanted to see pictures, not gabbing people so made use of the Live TV on the 'Mail Online.'  This, thanks to the internet wonders, was only camera shots, with no commentator.  How lovely!  Also, it was a few minutes ahead of the BBC by the same internet wonders.  I must say, asking a 73 year old King to walk slowly up the Royal Mile was dangerous.  This could have led to another funeral!  That is a steep slope and a slow walk, not one for me.  I spent much time looking for my family, who may have been there, and wondering about the crowds gathered on the High Street.  

The wall to wall coverage must die down now.  A trip to northern Ireland, and then Wales, before the end of the week.  Charlie must be fit to keep going.

 

 

Edinburgh, Autumn and Football

Louise Rayner - John Knox's House, Edinburgh

A quick glance at this picture and you may think the scene has not changed much in all these years.  This picture, painted in the later 19th century, is full of life and depicts what is supposedly a normal day in the life of the great city of Edinburgh.  We see the High Street, or 'Royal Mile,' as it is known as it leads from Edinburgh Castle down to Holyrood House, has always been a bustling place.  The painting portrays the locals, with a few workers of many kinds included.  The better off by now having moved down into the 'New Town' long since, we can tell the small tenement dwellings are occupied by those standing around in the street.  None are ashamed of hanging out the window and participating in the conversation, none are ashamed of washing hanging from the windows, neither activities being seen done today.  

However, this month Edinburgh endures, sorry, welcomes, the Festival.  An orgy of high class entertainment for the paying public.  Alongside this come the 'Fringe,'  this is an orgy of artists seeking fame and fortune, alongside those from previous generations who made it here in the long forgotten past.  This comes with a plague of leaflets no-one reads, mostly scattered about the streets or pinned to any available post, also unread by passers-by

Add to this mix the Dustbin men are on strike for a week!  This means wheelie bins overflow, rubbish piles up, and none gets collected.  The tourists flooding into Edinburgh, while the locals flood out if they can, get the benefit of Brexit Britain in their face, and certainly up their nose.  An excellent idea of the Binmen to make clear what is happening in our country today, low wages, high energy bills, and Brexit failures flood the nation, and the government, in Westminster, has gone on holiday!  As I keep telling the Brexiteers, "You voted for this!"  But they refuse to accept reality.  "This is not the Brexit I voted for!" Is their cry, though there never was any other on the table.  Lies and devious politicians, backed by very rich men abroad has brought the nation to its knees.  And Brexiteers refuse to accept this.  Trains, docks, Royal Mail, and dustmen on strike, and Brexit continues to make problems.  

Boris is on holiday.

400 miles away from all this I sit watching August slowly disappear from us.  Already 22 days in and leaves are falling from the trees.  Possibly this is encouraged by the dry ground, the heat heavy upon us this year, possibly just normal Autumn approaching.  

The sun still shines, though now through much more cloud, and slowly heads towards the west.  Women take their dogs across the quite safe park, enjoying the sun while standing gossiping about their neighbours with others like minded.  The impatient dogs snuffle around the fallen leaves and sun browned grasses always finding something to keep them busy.  

The rush hour now struggles past the door, music of an awful kind emits from one, a ringing phone from another.  Rap, with a capital 'C' passes by at three miles an hour, followed by the airport bus, hydraulic brakes squealing like a crying child.  Every evening the same people, the same slow struggle towards retirement.  Others, often retired, foolishly shop at Sainsburys in time to meet the rush hour.  They have done this for several years, why?  Have they never considered an early morning or late night shop?   I suppose getting up, checking the pills, finding breakfast, walking the dog, and then it is too late for shopping.  In the evening they would not wish to miss the 'Bread & Circuses' provided for them by broadcasters dulling the brain and hindering thought.  

I avoid such TV yet find my mind is dull and thought hindered.  Having exercised, twice early last week, then twice worked in the front to clear the mess I found my self very tired and aching much from Thursday onwards.  Even today, after a trip to Tesco, my body aches.  This, I must say, has nothing to do with the money saving offer on a bottle of 'Jameson's Orange Whiskey'  that was going cheap last week in Tesco.  Irish whiskey does not just possess a wrong spelling of 'whisky,' it is also only 30%, which tempts some to drink more than they ought.  Especially when watching football.  My neighbours now know I was watching football at the weekend.  

'Keeping the Lights On.'

 

 

‘Keeping the Lights on’ by David Craig, describes the joys and difficulties experienced when following the calling of God to lead and build a church. In fact two churches are here built and both are still going strong. 

Having known the author and his young wife for fifty years I loved watching again their successes and shared once again the many heartbreaks endured. Nothing is without trouble in this life, church leaders know this too well, they too share the same problems, difficulties and joys following Jesus brings.

Beginning as a History of the last 30 years the book has developed more into a mix of biography, History and instruction to young men faced with the ‘Call’ to build a church. From the cold north in Aberdeen, via well paid employment in Edinburgh and moving abroad to England and the London Bible College David is always honest about the doubts, fears, financial woes encountered, as well as the joy of provision from a God who never forgets his people.

The first church ‘Westbourne Grove Baptist Church’ as was at the time, ‘The Grove,’ to all who have known it, began with a congregation of 14 members! This really was the last shot! Several years of bible exposition, personal counselling and a great many bacon sandwiches at the ‘Manse’ led to an increase in numbers, around 65 or so, and a sense of ‘Love’ that remained long after they had left. That is ‘Love,’ not the sentimental hush that so often represents ‘love,’ today.

The Call to Bournemouth and a slightly larger church followed. Similar hard work, personal discussion, bible based teaching, personal seeking after God for the congregation followed. Again hard work, much prayer, and by prayer we mean listening to God not reeling of a shopping list like I do, brought a numerical increase, a number of fellow leaders for the growing organisations, and the a powerful ‘renewal’ for the church. ‘Renewals’ during the 80’s and 90’s often caused much pain, Satan worked marvellously to insert hate on many occasions, I experienced this myself twice, but the church in Bournemouth pulled through by making every effort at keeping the ‘agape’ between all concerned alive.

The author does not hide failures or personal crisis, indeed such honesty encourages belief in Gods work. Good times and bad follow as the church seeks to follow Jesus, this book makes this clear.

There are pages of description regarding the practical requirements that will benefit many building churches today. Experience learned the hard way is always good. The end result after 30 years and retirement (do preachers ever ‘retire?’) was a church now settled in an old cinema, a building suitable for the 500 or more no members of the church.

Both churches had connections to mission work overseas, the home church made sure these people far off and often in difficult situations were not forgotten. Social media of course helps here today. This along with the many connections the those around the church continue, and will continue unabated as long as these churches thrive.

Advice to young pastors includes the requirement to spend time with God alone daily, to spend time with wife and children daily, and especially to take time off before burn out and destruction arrives. The need to pray regularly with elders and leaders is stressed, as is communication to one and all when required. The whole church must pray, not just the leaders. House groups and prayer groups must be used when possible. The church must lean on the God who called, not individuals own ideas. We can trust the Father to make known his will.

One thing is clear, without his wife David could never have succeeded. Her willingness to support the work, indeed the development of her many gifts in prayer and counselling the women in the church, her support, and often rebuke, we have all endured that, enabled David to finish his calling. He could not have done this without his wife Maureen.

This book is easy to read, informative, full of the daily stresses and joys of church building and a credit to both David and Maureen and to the Lord who called, enabled and provided all the way through. I recommend it.

 

Book: 'Edinburgh at War'

 

 

I have just finished the first book of the year, 'Edinburgh at War,' by Craig Armstrong.  

In spite of being brought up in Edinburgh after the war (long after) I had little knowledge of events that occurred there during seven long years of service.  Obviously there were little stories that leaked out, tales of woe or funny situations, occasional photographs and the tales my dad offered re his wartime service.  However no details as such of the changes that occurred during this time.  This book goes a long way to answering the questions I was to stupid to consider asking.

Taking the war year by year the author offers tales from the media of what events appeared important, the building of defences, the formation of defence forces, in fire and medical areas, the rise of the Home Guard, and the results of enemy action.

All these things changed as the war passed.  Here we read of the grumbles, early was confusions re sirens and blackout, the council (Corporation actually at this time) action or lack off, and of course the cost of war.  Men in action if France, Dunkirk, Middle East, Far East, and once again in France and Germany.  Actions in the air, the first attacks from the air were on shipping in the Firth of Forth, the reaction to this, other bombing raids, those killed, damage caused.  Action at sea, in the air and on land involved men from this area, and all the while industry boomed making war equipment, Leith docks created many a vessel for action.  

Not surprisingly much attention is given to celebrations at wars end and royal visits.  While quaint in some eyes these reports speak of the attitudes of the day, reflected in many who were children at the time, the language used in the reports take us into the time, for those like me much is recognisable and other aspects explain the attitudes of parents for many years.

Simple things remained, the siren gave out the 'all clear' once or twice a year just to test them I suppose, treats offered kids in war, such as a rhubarb stick with some sugar, was current when we were kids also.  'Make do and mend' remained throughout the 50s and well into the 60's, in this house it remains still!   

 

I learned a great deal from this book, and it comes with relevant photogrpahs which can only help.  I recommend it to one and all.   

'Pen and Sword Books' cover many other towns and cities in this series, from Aberdeen to London, including 'Cardiff and the Valleys.'

Parkside Church Morning Service

Friday, End of Week Rummage.

Another week of joy and happiness is over. The early weeding this week, the Tesco and Sainsbury shopping all wore me out, not helped by having to hoover, change bed, laundry, and cook also all week.  Al these girl jobs and only I to do them.  It is so wearing...

So I spent time looking through old, very old, pictures you may have seen before.  Some were taken on the old Minolta B.D. that's Before Digital.  Playing around with them can be beneficial to them, but not always.  This one of St Giles Kirk must have been taken from Calton Hill, two or three others were, and I actually like it.  Calton Hill has been a playground for Edinburgh folk for many a day, and today it continues the dubious honour of having many a strange occurrence occur there.  This did not happen on the day I ventured up the hill, too cold that day.  Kings of old allowed sport, archery and such like, the people preferred open-air theatre and debauchery.  The imitation Parthenon still stands, well around ten pillars at least.  This is the 'National Monument' designed to commemorate the Scottish servicemen who died during the Napoleonic Wars.  It ran out of money in 1829 and work has as yet not restarted.     

Advocates Close in the high Street is a favourite place to picture.  Work has meant such a pic may no longer be possible, however, this is one of a great many closes that go from the 'Royal Mile' down the High Street to Holyrood.  Old Edinburgh being built on a thin stretch of land the buildings tended to rise up higher and higher, ten stories not being unusual.  We can see the slope away to the north from this angle.  The memorial to Sir Walter Scott stands in the distance.  Scott invented the modern 'traditional Scot.'  Tartan and romantic Highlanders and all the half truths and lies that accompany his determined effort to make Scotland well known, but part of Greater England!  He sold us out and still did not make enough money from his books to pay his debts.  Advocates Close was named for the Lord Advocate, James Stewart, a fine residence in his day, later a slum and now renovated, and expensive I bet.

  
Abraham Lincoln stands atop this memorial to the Scottish American Soldiers who fought in the US Civil War.  Erected in 1893 with several of these men buried underneath or nearby, it shows Lincoln at the top, a freed Black slave with a book, revealing he is now educated at the base.  It is the only such memorial outside of the US. 

 
How did I climb hills?  This was taken ten years ago when my mother died.  One day my brother drove us around to get a feel for the place as it had become.  We stopped here, Salisbury Crags to the right, castle and all in front.  A popular view for those with expensive cameras!

Edinburgh Zoo is famous for the Penguin enclosure.  I took this 'Rockhopper Penguin' pic at the time they were renovating the place.  I can assure you penguins smell a great deal when up close.  One of my nieces did a year at the zoo when 16, this included 6 weeks with penguins.  As she got on the bus going home the drivers would say "You, upstairs!"  No-one sat near her.