Edinburgh Pandas

Frank Boyle Edinburgh Evening News 

Frank Boyle captures the arrival of two Pandas, on loan from our friends in China for ten years, and satarises the Edinburgh love of chips covered in both salt and brown watery sauce! The Pandas have arrived in an effort China is making to join the real world,  and reflect Scotland's desire for an international presence, especially among the 'big boys!' Russia and the USA will be next I suspect.  I once, a long time ago, wandered around the London Zoo at Regents Park, a sad imitation in comparison to the one sitting on Corstorphine Hill. I journeyed there to see the two Panda Bears among other things, animals in captivity upsetting some poor souls but not those like me who would not see them otherwise. I can assure you the Pandas gave me a similar reception to that which pretty young lassies do when I whisper in their ear. One was not to be seen and memory indicates the other was engrossed in the bamboo and cared nothing for those who paid through the nose to see them.  They, like me, failed to breed, a habit that helps the bears to die out slowly in their mountain homelands. I am reliably informed that there are some women who wish their men were more like the Panda, I do not understand what they mean by this.  It is to be hoped that Edina's balmy atmosphere will aid the passion of these two, if they can put the bamboo down for long enough.

Edinburgh chip shops are, or at least were, highly important to the society.  Until the 70's shops had a terrible habit of opening from 9-5, and that included an hour closed for lunch. This led to folks suffering when an important item was not to be found in the house, often there was no way of obtaining goods after five. Chip shops provided the answer as they sold some goods and often acted as the corner shop.   However at that time many Asians were thrown out of East Africa where their forefathers had journeyed in the days of the Empire to build railways for their considerate employers.  Being Indians they soon took over all the commerce of Africa, and by the 70's many were being persecuted by the Idi Amin's of this world. A great many arrived in Leith and opened shops, one in Leith Walk learned his English, as did his fat slob son, by speaking to his customers. Most were successes, this success based on the simple idea of opening between 8-6 and not closing for lunch. It does not matter how many supermarkets open most folk want a corner shop and these men were good at that business. Some even opened up to seven at night, a revelation in Edinburgh at that time, now wonder some became millionaires.  I remember one telling us how he increased the price of his tinned beers when Glasgow football fans were passing his shops on the Saturday, he would reduce it to normal price once they had gone!

Until their arrival chip shops were split into two, many still are, and they played the part of the corner shop. A tin of beans, a packet of cigarettes or sweets for the kids were all supplied for the section to the side used for that purpose. These places were never licensed for alcohol. The main business was fish and chips, pies, sausages and chicken, and today kebabs and anything that sells.  In Edinburgh salt was lavished unhealthily onto the chips and a brown sauce, impossible to describe but a 'must have' on Edinburgh chips, was liberally applied. Some folks just preferred vinegar, and a surprise to foreigners from England, the woman in the shop applied the salt & sauce, they did not wrap it up and leave you to unwrap it and apply the needful yourself!  Pies also were not wrapped in paper as the English offer them, a strange behaviour I have never understood, and of course were always 'mince pies,' made with mutton, and similar to the manner of many customers dress sense.  In short chip shops throughout Scotland were excellent in every way, and even better around the capital city where salt & sauce abound. 

Of course there is in all things one slight drawback to all this, a combination of cigarettes, to much alcohol (Mr S are you listening?) and lashings of fish and chips, salt drenched, when leaving public houses has led to Scotland having one of the highest rates of heart failure in the world. Still, you canny have everything, can you?  I wonder how long Panda and his mate will survive.....?   

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Monday Evening

My day was cheered when I came across an old news item concerning my secondary school.  Stupid people claim, for reasons I have never understood, that schooldays are the 'Happiest days of your life!'  I never found this to be the case, nor have many others.  Education I could stomach, well some of it but certainly not the bit concerning 'sums,'  but being locked into Stalagluft XVII I could have done without.  However trawling through the web for some other reason that slips my mind I came across the story of the school fire! This school was begun in 1960 and by 1964 I was frogmarched into it by the city authorities. In the year of our Lord 2010 those same city authorities closed the school and moved the terrorists further down the road and into a new prison camp school building. Naturally this was done as the school closed for the holidays at the beginning of July with the intention of beginning the new school year in the new premises. Now consider, you literary lot, that the area behind the school was the district in which the book of the film 'Trainspotting' began life then you will gather that the residents are not the most intellectual that the 'Athens of the North' has bred.  Within a week or two the school was burning to the ground and the noble gentlemen of the 'fire and rescue service' were attempting to do their duty while also attempting to help the police discover which of the wretches were cutting the hoses as they worked!  Only one feeble 14 year old laddie was held, the other thousand ex-pupils escaped!  I write this to indicate my sadness - at not being there to light a match!




I also had nothing else to write, so that somewhat smug report from last year will have to do.



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Gas

This pretty boring picture I took some years ago through a wire fence.  It shows one of the platforms at Granton Gas Works. These premises opened in 1902 and my aunt claims hr dad was driving the shunting engine there. This is likely as he was named as a Steam Engine Driver in the 1891 census.  By 1901 he was a 'general labourer,' possibly because of his drink habit.  If only we knew more about him!  This platform was a workers only halt into  the works  I wonder if a special train was in operation to bring them in on time? Certainly they booked in nearby and crossed the line via a bridge to enjoy a day shoveling coal.  The red brick used to such good effect was typical of a building of the day.  These days factories are so boring and functional but the Victorians built such quality even into factories.  Progress has led to plastic buildings and lack of character while in days of your the buildings had bags of character, although long hours and low wages were common. 


Gas was made from the coal, about 200,000 tones a year at Granton and this was heated by furnace underneath the 'retorts' with temperatures of around 1500 degrees. Gas was drawn off and cooled, cleaned of impurities such as oil and tar by ammoniacal solution. Afterwards the gas was washed by water leaving an ammoniacal liquor, this was made into sulphate of ammonia and used as fertiliser.  Further treatment removed lots of stuff I cannot spell and the gas completed the journey into the large gasholders from where it traveled to serve the city.  I well remember the gas sometimes containing an 'air pocket' and having to turn it off and starting again.  Gas taps in the science labs at school (science? aye right!) would cause the teachers to cry out when the air pocket was noticed.  An explosion could have destroyed the school, if only!  The coal waste became coke, and the smaller dross was turned into briquettes.  Nothing was wasted by this business.  The sixties however saw an end to coal gas and a massive transformation of cooking and other appliances as 'Natural Gas' was introduced.  The final end of gas at Granton came in 1987 and the buildings were soon headed for destruction. The rail lines possibly used by granddad have long gone and only the station building, now refurbished remains.  Granddad also went in 1917, he collapsed on his way home from the pub, aged 71.  Offices and housing now fill the redeveloped space once the home of rail, coke and coal, and nothing else remains bar the iron standings of the gas holder.  Even that is threatened.  


Progress takes away memories.  From our window, and much of Edinburgh, the gas holders stood out as we looked north. The sounds of the works, there were other works nearby plus the docks, would float through the dark silent evening air. One other factory nearby, 'The United Wire Works,' for whom my father spent several years slaving away, has also gone.  'Google Maps' show just a bricked up 'Works Entrance' and a large despoiled building and surroundings now.  Even the rough 'Anchor Bar' has gone!  Although there are those that claim that indeed is progress!  How strange that a building that stood for almost ninety years, and which was part of my childhood simply by it existing, has now gone, as indeed has sound 'floating on the night air,' the traffic drowns it out. The new developments may indeed be grand in the long term but it is not my Edinburgh any more.  The world moves on and our 'lives are only in our memory, the no longer exist.

Granton History

This is how it should be!

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Rudi Skacel who opened the scoring with a thunderous drive.

Ryan Stevenson who finished the job

The Heart of Midlothian defeated the Celtic by two goals to nil this afternoon.  


This is how it should be!

When I began trudging to Tynecastle I expected us to defeat the grim Glasgow ogres, and indeed everyone else.  This is how Scottish football ought to be, us winning, the league being open, and the Heart of Midlothian being the team to beat!  

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Edinburgh

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Edinburra Words

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Stolen bare-faced from a 'must see' site Day by Day Photos

Recently the Heart of Midlothian forum 'Kickback,' often referred to by other terms, had a thread concentrating on old Edinburgh words. Most of these are still in use today, however language is a 
constantly evolving activity and words fall out of use and others take their place. Words used in towns and cities often differ from those used in smaller places, hence in Edinburgh the citizens are happy to announce they possess no accent of any type at all while in mining villages s was a mere mile or so outside of the city accents can be very strong indeed. Tourists, in their usual tiring manner, claim they can tell no difference, and English TV channels have been known to use subtitles on occasion for the citizens of Edinburgh, must to the chagrin of the population!  Clearly this would be acceptable in Glasgow, Aberdeen or a wee place like Dumbarton, but not at all required in Scotland's capital city, ken whit a mean like pal, you know?


Here is the list of words and other bits that I have compiled from the thread mentioned, most of  
them are easily understood but those dwelling in the colonies may well have difficulties. Let's face it they do not understand the difference between Lallans and English for crying out loud, there again neither do the English!  




'Bag off.' -   A term referring to meeting a young lass and having a good snog! 
'Bam.'     -   An individual who appears mentally unbalanced, e.g. Hibernian supporter. 
'Barrie' or 'Barry.'  -  This means 'Good,' 'Excellent.'      
'Basher.'  -   Ice cream slider with a tunnocks snowball inside. Much missed by me.
'Ben the'  -  'As in 'Ben the hoose' meaning 'Through to another part of the house.  
'Bogging'  -  'Horrible,' as in 'Horrible.'
'Bucket.'  -  'An Edinburgh term for 'dustbin.' I suspect 'Wheelie buns have led to the demise of this term.
'Choob'    -   'Idiot.'  As in Hibernian supporter.
'Choreying' - 'Thieving.' 
'Clarty.'   -    'Dirty,' 'unclean,' as in 'Old Firm Fan.' 
'Dreep.'   -    A method of getting down from a height, such as a window or a wall.
'Dreich.'   -   Bad weather, drizzle like cold rain. 
'Eejit.'     -   Another word for idiot. 
'Filly.'      -   The brown leather football used until the late 50's. 
'Gadgie.'  -    Person.
'Gardyloo.'  - The phrase used when emptying the loo pot out the window.
'Glaikit.'  -    'Gormless,'  as in 'Hibernian fan.' 
'Glaur.'   -    'Meaning 'mud,' as in my boots were covered in glaur. (Never heard of this myself.
'Gawkin.'  -  'Looking.'
A 'Guider' -  A homemade go-kart usually comprising wheels from an old pram and spare wood.  
'Loupin.'  -   Meaning 'sickening.'  Never heard of this!
'Loused,' -   Meaning 'finished work.'
'Messages.'  - As in going 'shopping' for the house groceries. 
'Mince.'  -   An derogatory opinion.
'Minging.' -  'Filthy,' 'Unclean,' 'smelling,' as in Hibernian or Old Firm supporter. 
'Peeve.'  -   'Drink alcohol.'  Not used in my day!

'Peevers.' -  Hopscotch' to some.

'Piece.'  -   'Sandwiches made for work.'

'Puff.'    -   'Meaning lifespan as 'Never in your puff'.

'Puggled.' - 'Tired,' 'worn out.'  As in me.

'Radge,' or Raj.' - See 'Bam.'

'Scud.'   -  'Naked.'

'Scullery.' - 'Kitchen.'  (National word surely? 

'Shottie.'  -  As in 'Give me a shot.' 'Let me have a go.' (Aberdeen term surely?) 
'Siver.'   -  'Drain,' 'gully,' or 'that grill thing' depending on where you come from, at side of road.
'Slider.'  -  An ice cream wafer. (national surely.)
'Sloppy Joe.'  - T-shirt

'Spraf.'  - Chat.  Never heard this.
The 'Store.' - the Co-Operative Shop.
'Square go.' - fight
'Sybies.'   - Spring onions.

'Wee hairy.'  - Adolescent girl. (Not used in polite company.) 

Some other regularly used terms 

"How no?"  -  "Why not?"

"The morn."  - 'Tomorrow.' As in "The morn's morn"

"Whot fur no?"  -  "Why not?"

"The back o' ten."  - "The time is just after ten."

There are many more, and others will come to mind later. Some words go back into the midst of time, some were brought in from far away by immigrants in times long past, some were made up by drunks in Dalkeith, language as I have said 'evolves.'  Different parts of the country speak with different accents and have been influenced by ancient contacts. For instance in Aberdeen and the North East they speak the 'Doric.'  while in Edinburgh and the central Lowlands, as you know, we speak Lallans.  In Glasgow they just speak violence!  It is important to realise that 'Blogger' is of course guided by the 'American' spelling of what they term 'English,' and it has been most upset by some of the words used here. That is of course just typical of American imperialism isn't it?

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The UK Summer

Here we are in the middle of 'Flaming June' when the temperature reaches for the skies!  Unfortunately the Americans send us their old hurricanes and left over rain clouds and this spoils the season somewhat. This picture is typical British summertime!  The sun shines brightly on the trees and thunderclouds line up behind ready to wash the land below. This one burst about an hour ago and it is still raining now, although not with the venom thrown at the beginning.

I cleaned out a couple of cupboards the other day and as you do made some great finds!  For one I found a Black ink cartridge for the printer, and this after I had struggled around trying to find a cheap one the other week when one ran out. Isn't it the way? Among the dust, clearly someone had died in that drawer, there was a mass of photographs long forgotten.  I scanned some of the more acceptable ones in and among them was a picture I took of typical Edinburgh New Town railings. Many of these must have been nicked during the war when a all railings were used for the war effort, even though most were of little use, and I suppose being part of gardens owned by the 'important people' these were allowed to remain!  Some things never change. This is the sort of thing Edinburgh folk pass every day and take for granted, it is only by living so far away that I notice such things when I return. It is always the way that good pictures are all around but because it is a daily occurrence we cannot see them!  Another picture is found on my Photo page. 

As you come down the steps from Calton Hill onto Waterloo place, not advised after visiting the local hostelries, you will note the rail that divides the stairs. At the bottom of each is this skillful representation of a lion, often found wandering around Edinburgh, making a nice end to the rail. It doesn't say much, it just sticks the tongue out as you pass.  

   

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Pope

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Edinburgh Evening News

Watching the Pope greet the English queen and parade along Princes Street today I was struck by how reverential people were towards him and how smarmy the commentary was. The hangers on VIPs and the faithful gathered to meet him in Holyrood House were looking to him as if to a god, and that is the word to use. This irked me, and I am often irked, because at no time would the Apostles ever accept being regarded in such a manner. Peter and Paul and all the early Christians pointed people, all people, to Jesus the redeemer and refused reverence for themselves. Benedict may not look for such treatment but his position brings this to him like it or not.  


I followed his car through Edinburgh (on the TV, not in person like) and found myself wishing I was back there. Possibly this has more to do with the lack of gray clouds and driving rain than anything else. To see Edinburgh without such weather is indeed a miracle! Two or three things stood out for me and they are not all good. The commentators, all of them, were at their oleaginous best throughout. (OK, I did use a Thesaurus smart guy!) Enthusing about the 'enthusiasm' and the 'huge excitement,' and 'atmosphere,' all the usual flannel from commentators either truly impressed or sticking to the usual tried and true words for such an occasion, whether they fit or not! Language at such occasions is important as during a state funeral it is important not to say "Now comes the main body of the parade." The fact the Pope had a tartan scarf draped around him drew much acclaim (hooray!) and Scots pride was to the fore. The Saltires waved by the kids naturally drew comment, although Tony Blair would have replaced them with English flags had he been in power. Nonentities in the background spouted platitudes for this man, speaking of how wonderful, important and marvellous the visit was. (Whoopee). He brought one said, a message of 'Hope,' but what hope did she mean? Others spoke, with dripping tongues, of 'peace' and 'interfaith dialogue,' but what do they expect to get from that? People of faith (whatever that Labour spin word means) meet daily living their lives. What end does such 'dialogue' lead to? Flannel abounded this morning, alongside smiles and cheers. Prince Philip noticing all the tartan asked the female leader of the Tory Party (Who she?) "Are you wearing tartan knickers?" Diplomacy was never something ex sailors were asked to perform. 


Who is the Pope and what is the Roman Catholic Church?
From a Christian viewpoint the Pope is of no importance whatsoever! The church based in Rome was doing very well until the third or fourth century when things began to go wrong. With other major elders (The word 'Bishop' is best translated 'Elder' or 'Presbyter') around the Mediterranean world, Constantinople, Antioch and Alexandria to mention just three, Rome was no more important than anyone else, indeed much of the time it was of little importance to the rest of the world. There were constant theological disputes of course, some important some not, and eventually one elder at Rome decided to use the Apostle Peters death, believed to be in Rome around 64 a.d. and the line "You are Petras (Rock) and upon this rock I will build my church. I will give you the keys of heaven." (I am afraid I have forgotten the precise verse and which Pope this was 'Leo' I think. Google them!) However he was chancing his arm and this was a claim never made before. In the first century no church took precedence and none should do so today.


The Reformation arose because the Roman church had long forgotten the creator and had become a mere political power base. Christianity was attempted by many but the theology was often confused.  Luther, Calvin, Knox and others brought about a split between those who wished to know God and make him known, and the Roman church which sadly refused to change its ways. The fact that this is the 450th anniversary of the Reformation and the Pope comes to Edinburgh, one of the centres of this event through the work of John Knox has been noticed. Deliberate perhaps? During his speech the Pope did mention Margaret of Scotland, but appeared to forget our man John, absent minded maybe? The RC church has deviated far from Apostolic Christianity and sadly appears to be showing no wish to reform itself even now. Therefore from a Christian point of view the Pope is of no consequence. The bible, the revealed word of God, is the only guide.


There are many problems within the RC church. People forced into the role of nun or priest by family pressure fail to live according to their duty, and who can blame them. I have known some such and their troubles are many. Celibacy has destroyed many lives and requires to be dropped for humanity's sake if nothing else, it has no biblical foundation. The huge size of the organisation has allowed homosexuals and paedophiles to find places to hide themselves. Clearly the desperation to avoid scandal has led to cover ups a plenty, and of course many guilty men have wormed their way into top positions. Will they, I wonder, will they ever be revealed? A return to biblical truth, the end of the priesthood, (Jesus is the Great High Priest, and no man should stand between you and God bar Jesus the sacrificial offering and priest himself!) An honest clear out of criminal men is urgently required before the RC church can put this shady past behind them. Difficult though it may be and I suspect the next Pope will be the one who will have to finish this work.  


There are many good people amongst the Catholics. Many who work very hard for others throughout the world, often with little praise. These will always be ignored while the majority live a nominal faith and others hide behind the church and abuse the vulnerable. Such sin is of course found in other denominations, in large and small businesses, and possibly in the street where you live. Businesses and others also cover up their wrongdoers but when a church denomination does this it is a dreadful failure.  The desperation of some to meet the Pope, for a 'blessing' or just to meet the famous was indeed sickening however. The reverence for the man, the brown nosing by some, the lack of knowledge of biblical truth made me despair. Will this visit recharge the RC church? maybe. Will it be forgotten next week? Definitely!


An 'off the ball' slant on the visit.... 



The Pope comes to Glasgow and asks "Anyone with 'special needs' who wants to be prayed over, please come forward to the front by the altar."


With that, wee Brendan got in line, and when it was his turn, the Pope asked, "My son, what do you want me to pray about for you?"


Wee Brendan replied, "Your Holiness, I need you to pray for help with my hearing."


The Pope put one finger of one hand in Brendan’s ear, placed his other hand on top of his head, and then prayed and prayed and prayed. He prayed a great prayer for Brendon, and the whole congregation joined in with great enthusiasm.


After a few minutes, the Pope removed his hands, stood back and asked, "Brendon, how is your hearing now?"
Wee Brendan answered, "Ah don't know. It's no' 'til next week....."


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William Topaz McGonagall 'Edinburgh'

Edinburgh

Beautiful city of Edinburgh!

Where the tourist can drown his sorrow

By viewing your monuments and statues fine

During the lovely summer-time.

I'm sure it will his spirits cheer

As Sir Walter Scott's monument he draws near,

That stands in East Prince's Street

Amongst flowery gardens, fine and neat.

And Edinburgh Castle is magnificent to be seen

With its beautiful walks and trees so green,

Which seems like a fairy dell;

And near by its rocky basement is St Margaret's Well,

Where the tourist can drink at when he feels dry,

And view the castle from beneath so very high,

Which seems almost towering to the sky.

Then as for Nelson's monument that stands on Calton Hill,

As the tourist gazes thereon, with wonder his heart does fill

As he thinks on Admiral Nelson who did the Frenchmen kill,

Then, as for Salisbury Crags, they are most beautiful to be seen,

Especially in the month of June, when the grass is green;

There numerous mole-hills can be seen,

And the busy little creatures howking away,

Searching for worms among the clay;

And as the tourist's eye does wander to and fro

From the south side of Salisbury Crags below,

His bosom with admiration feels all aglow

As he views the beautiful scenery in the valley below;

And if, with an observant eye, the little loch beneath he scans,

He can see the wild ducks about and beautiful white swans.

Then, as for Arthur's Seat, I'm sure it is a treat

Most worthy to be seen, with its rugged rocks and pastures green,

And the sheep browsing on its sides

To and fro, with slow-paced strides,

And the little lambkins at play

During the livelong summer day,

Beautiful city of Edinburgh! the truth to express,

Your beauties are matchless I must confess,

And which no one dare gainsay,

But that you are the grandest city in Scotland at the present day!    

William Topaz McGonagall

What has happened to our culture?

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Richard Webb

I had occasion to use Google maps the other day for some important study that has now gone right out of my head. It meant looking at Edinburgh for some reason or other and I eventually wandered over the places where I spent my youth. I was shocked! What caught my eye was an area used by some lads for football, now dominated by a council laid basketball court! What on earth is going on here I thought? This was a place I only visited once, and not because of the hard men who played there either. I did however play on the other side of those houses for a while with the chaps there, and a good time I had also. However I noticed their pitch no longer exists and tarmac paths cross what was once the goalmouth where my heroics often brought jeers of laughter! I wandered, from a height of several hundred feet, towards the more usual pitches of my footballing career and found a similar dearth of football being played. I was aware the roundabout had four trees planted in the centre (trees for goodness sake!) but now a ring of flourishing growth is found around the edges of the greenery. I am shocked. I gazed in a daze at the green grass, usually mud when we played, the trees and the lack of enthusiasm for the 'beautiful game!' I gave myself a crick in the neck shaking it back and forward with disbelief at the sight. I had known of course about the death of my first love long ago. The football had been hindered greatly by the imposition of the cinder pitch over our near neighbours pitch. (Funny how we rarely had a 'take on' with them for some reason, although we all played together at times?) The men at the bus stop had eased their despair at the buses by watching our football skills, which were many I must boast, and now all they could find were some enthusiasts 'training' or just walking the dog. Shame I cry, shame!

What has happened to our culture? Over the past thirty years, for no known reason, men have stopped playing football! This of course is not just in Edinburgh, home of the truly greats, like Willie Bauld, Bobby Walker, John Robertson, and Dave McKay, but it occurs everywhere in Scotland and indeed the United Kingdom! Not only this but it happens throughout Europe and even Pele, the world's second best player (Bobby Walker outshone him of course) even Pele claimed the kids no longer played football on the beach they way he used to! What is going on here? Football, whether with a proper plastic ball such as the ones we possessed, or with a bundle of rags tied together, been there done that, still happens, but in Africa, or some other third world nation. In those places where the economy is not strong people play football as we did. So is it wealth that has lost kids interest in the game? Almost any decent school reveals lots of brats kicking a ball, and one another, around the playground, so why do they prefer homework or computer games in the evening? They are not all sniffing glue or playing with little girls bicycle seats are they? A generation and more, has arisen that has no concept of the 'tanner ba' player. The idea of twenty or so a side, first to 21 wins, played under dim amber lights, in the rain and mud, means nothing to them. Yet all the greats of the past were reared this way!

I suspect one reason is the growth of football development! Football clubs select the best under eights, put them into the cut down pitches and reject the bad ones and retain the good. This may be fine for those who continue on but does it leave the young reject disillusioned with his chances? It appears the only way to make it big is not by enjoying the game, and dreaming of success, but by having sufficient talent to belong to a football team and train with them their way and no other. Add to this those who tell us that 'Playing too much football causes harm in later life' we are left with kids who play only when they are allowed. Well, those who obey their orders that is! Certainly we could have developed problems with too much football, but alcohol, cigarettes and women cause many more problems. Few suffer from playing football too much, certainly we never had to play to lose the burger fat that today's slobbish youth delight in. So I am left wondering why our football has developed in this way? Proper coaching killing the natural enjoyment? Too much homework as kids struggle to pass exams that will make no difference to their lives? Possibly the left leaning teachers, usually female, who robbed a generation of 'competitive' games had a belittling effect on attitudes? I just know that while I am not against the developing of the areas we once saw as our own I am struggling to understand why this change in thirty years?
   
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Old Maps

Am I the only one who finds old maps fascinating? Shown here is a map of the South of Scotland, concentrating on Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth, but the date is difficult to establish. At 3/- a copy, (that's three shillings to young folks, OK, that's 15 pence to you very young folks), and 'cloth bound,' it was designed for those rich enough to possess a motor car which enabled the middle classes to join the toffs driving around the country. Such driving became popular in the 1920's and with cars (That's 'automobiles' to those in North America) being so expensive the working classes, who often drove lorries and vans for employment, could never hope to obtain a car of their own. Indeed in was only in the late fifties and early sixties that car ownership really became a possibility.

I love looking at such maps and pondering their date, and indeed the owners over the years. It is stupidly interesting to look at a map of the district from days of yore and compare them to the present day. For no good reason I can be excited by the residue of ancient pathways, buildings and workplaces that no longer exist in a manner that I cannot repeat for the buildings of today. Why this should be I cannot say, but there it is! There is of course a demand for these maps, they sell on E-Bay and online shops, and mine arrived via a local boot sale. I may peruse E-bay for a few days and hope for a windfall, or a couple of pounds anyway. 

I still do not understand the interest, but I enjoy perusing old maps. There was a badly made programme which featured one eccentric chap, brolly and all, wandering about following ancient maps and those who travelled on long gone roads. Had the programme been better made, and avoided his overacting and the cameraman's love of shaky camera and blurred picture,  it could have been very entertaining. All around us are ancient pathways that are still used today, In fact outside my window lies 'Stane Street,' so called after the Roman army used their technological expertise on it, although it must have existed for a long time before this, possibly some thousand or more years at that, as a thin winding track through the heavily wooded land. Roman roads themselves are often made from previous tracks, but our incomers military needs meant they just straightened out the bends and climbed straight over the hills! Today such roads traces can be see on Google Maps quite easily.

In Edinburgh a wander through Davidson's Mains leads to the public park at the end of the street. Few realise that the road ahead was once a busy drovers road and sheep and cattle would be brought from west and indeed from over the Forth in Fife along this ancient track. As kids we discovered a bit beyond the park an old bothy once used by such men as a night shelter. I wonder if it was allowed to remain when the expensive middle class houses were built in the sixties? It is knowing this that it is possible to trace the route once used by generation, on foot, bringing cattle to market from far away. History is on our doorstep. Thousands have passed this way before, although they probably drove a bit slower when oxen were pulling their carts!

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Edinburgh

Edinburgh has been named as the one city people wish to see 'before they die!' I can understand this! Scotland's capital city has the mighty Firth of Forth to the north and the Pentland Hills to the south, contains within it several other hills tourists long to traverse, and two, yes two, extinct volcanoes. (No I do not mean the corrupting remains of the twa wifies from Canonmills!) Also found there are historic buildings going back hundreds of years, buildings which contained the men, and one or two women, who brought civilisation to the world! History abounds in Edinburgh, from the Castle perched high upon the rock, down the Royal Mile to Holyrood House and all places in between.

The city contains two major universities, and lots of educational establishments, (I learnt one or two things in Edinburgh I can tell you) a financial sector second only to the City of London (and if you doubt this read up about our Fred!) A bright bustling economy which is fighting back against the US led recession, (ask our Fred about this also!) a religious history, many great revivals and missionary expeditions were centred on the Kirk in Scotland, many renown eating establishments, (which I canny afford) and hundreds of drinking ones (ask our friend Mike about those, especially 'The Diggers') a history of great men and thousands of positive steps forward into a better world for all, and of course two football teams. The Heart of Midlothian, Edinburgh's 'big team' and Hibernian, the Leith based 'wee team.'


Naturally the majority of people would wish to visit the city, and not just because I was born there! The Scottish capital came out ahead of Bath, Liverpool, Belfast, Glasgow and Oxford, a town named such because someone saw an Ox in a ford! Certainly one wonders why anyone would wish to visit Liverpool as outside of the Beatles there is nothing of value to be found there. Glasgow, a word which means 'Dear Green Place,' has many museums of course, however most of them are the buildings which house the scurrilous natives. Belfast may bring visitors to see the divided city's war zones and the surrounding country, but little else. Oxford of course is now the haunt of middle class types wasting three or so years of their lives before making far too much money. I actually went there myself so I know what I am talking about.
It was a lovely day.



London, Cardiff, York and Cambridge were the places that followed on as 'places to see before you die!' London naturally requires a visit, just don't live there for over twenty years in case you become old, cynical, and grumpy. I actually spent a night in Cardiff in 1976 and decided I would never go abroad again after that! York I have never visited but a postman who moved there says it is a delightful place, but the people are what Yorkshiremen are, dour, truculent and crabby. And as for Cambridge I don't even know where it is!

These surveys, by 'Travelodge' a hotel chain, always give a limited view of life but certain things can be agreed with, for instance Newcastle was regarded as the friendliest place, with Liverpool and Manchester not far behind. London, Birmingham and Glasgow were regarded as the least friendly, although outside of football matches I always found Glasgow a friendly place in the main. So if you wonder where to visit next Edinburgh is for you, and decent well run, (by two lovely young ladies) self catering 'Edinburgh Villa' accommodation is just around the corner also!

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On another subject Jerry, who dwells somewhere deep in the Ozark Mountains, wishes me to post this. He would himself he says, but his wife will not let him. Chicken!

Click to enlarge.

Edinburgh View

This is an example of the view from the window in Edinburgh. Looking north towards the Forth and over to Burntisland on the Fife side. The picture does not really show it but the sky at night there is always worth looking at. (Click on the picture as it enlarges the image.) That is one of the things I missed most about Edinburgh. The twinkling lights from the towns over the Forth, and the dark blue sky, occasionally black, but at this time of the year, never dark and dreary! Simple joys for simple folks.

Edinburgh

Off to Edinburgh until Wednesday when
normal (normal?) service will be resumed.
Would you believe it's raining!

Saturday Musings

I must confess to some cynicism regarding the death of Wacko Jacko.

The hour by hour coverage made me turn off, and the weeping girlie's brought some cynicism to my mind. While they cry from pain I suspect there are many boys crying for relief there will be no sleepovers there!

Poor sad Jacko, poor childhood, too much money and no sensible folk to turn to. No father figure in his life, at it appears not one that was of much use. When folks refuse to have a father, or insist two male/females can act as parents hey ignore the way we are made! Mind you, having said that I am left wondering what colour he was when he died? Somehow I suspect the phrase 'brown bread = dead' was never used, or am I cruel?

No doubt he will be reverenced for ever by some but I truly do not understand the fuss. I am happy not to comprehend young folks music, or their liking for weirdos, but Jackos song and dance routine was in my view meaningless pap. The videos represented an emptiness that music in the 60's never possessed. Then there was a meaning to music, a desire to change the world for the better, in theory if not in fact. Since the mid 70's music has been mostly self serving, getting worse with each decade. The occasional flash of something outside this occurs, punk for instance but that too was a meaningless grab for money!

Maybe it's just me......

In the meantime, while avoiding tennis or Michael Jackson conspiracy theories, I have spent the day in fantasy land. No, not like that, but dreaming of a house I saw in Edinburgh, well Leith actually, shock horror! if only I had around £400,000 going spare I could have changed my life for a while. I checked my accounts, £2:20 in, my pocket, a cider jar half full of copper coins and a few small silver ones, a credit card bill that Alistair Darling would be jealous off, and an overdraft that makes me shudder, especially when two bills arrive this week! I can see me "dwelling in the realms of fantasy Jones" for a while yet.

Edinburgh Trams

I pinched this picture from Richards Blog, a blog centred on the National Tramways Museum at Crich, Derbyshire. I can remember the time these beasts roamed Edinburgh's streets, rattling and shaking and terrifying me at the time. I always hated the things but there were times they just had to be used. Of course kids could find fun on these creatures, the seats were simple wooden benches, not acceptable to the overweight, overdressed wealthy types of today, with a backrest that was adjusted at the end of each trip and the tram turned around. The adjustment was simple enough, the back was just pushed forward and the seats were ready for the return journey. The conductor changed all the seats, the driver ensured the power was connected from the wires above via the connecting rod, and then moved to the other end of the tram and they were away, although they probably had a long break first!

Edinburghs cobbled streets remain today but the rails have long since gone. However a new style tram, with comfy seating will soon be appearing, and once more these silent, environmentally friendly beasts will reappear. Whether this is a good idea remains to be seen, and the citizens will complain constantly about the disruption, the cost and , well anything to be honest. If it is a success they will then complain about something else. Such is the happiness progress brings. Personally I would like to go to the Critch Museum and wallow in nostalgia for the trams I once disliked as a kid, they were removed in 1956 when I was only five years old, and probably get a lot of joy from pushing the backs of the seats around as I once did in the distant past. Sad I know, but I love it!

Heart of Midlothian Memorial and the Trams

Edinburgh Council have decided to install trams once again in another of their acts of 'progress.' Now I don't know whether this will actually benefit Edinburgh or not, although a drunk on a tram late at night is very similar to a drunk on a bus in my view. It may speed the traffic, it may be a success, who can tell? One thing is sure it will not be paid for overnight! The construction of the tramway has meant a great many things, including statues and memorials, have to be moved to allow the trams to pass. One memorial that must move is the memorial to the players of the Heart of Midlothian who enlisted in 1914. As you know they formed the basis of the 16th Royal Scots, known as 'McCrae's Battalion,' along with many other Edinburgh volunteers, and players from Raith Rovers, Falkirk and Hibernian. Together they produced the most powerful battalion football team in the forces.

More than thirty Hearts men enlisted, and hundreds more joined from all Scots football teams. All endured much suffering, physical, and emotional, many failed to return to the game at wars end. Of the Hearts men many were disabled, and seven were dead, this memorial was erected by grateful citizens in 1922 to commemorate their sacrifice and effort. Each year the service of remembrance is held here and several hundred gather to commemorate the death of these men. In attendance are representatives from the clubs involved and many who feel these men, and those from all later conflicts, should never be forgotten.

There is a fear that the council are doing their best to 'dump' the memorial in an unsuitable place. This would be unfortunate. Haymarket, at the bottom of Dalry Road leads up to Tynecastle Park, the home of the Hearts. It is also the meeting place of roads from the west and thousands of people pass through each day on their daily routine. This is the spot this memorial needs to be found, nowhere else. This was the intention in the twenties and the introduction of trams into Edinburgh surely should not over ride the opinions of many, including the many descendants of the dead, who believe this memorial ought to be sighted in the Haymarket. It is to be hoped that a sight, possibly outside 'Ryries bar,' another listed building, may be chosen. The fear is council staff, uninterested in the memorial nor the feelings of those involved, may choose to store the memorial and possibly even allow it to be forgotten. This must be opposed.

Hospital Life

When I first started work on the trauma ward at the Infirmary I quickly got used to the many varieties of the human species. The doddery old pensioner who had long since lost what had once been a brain, the drunk who saw the door in the ceiling being opened, and the fellow who cried out 'Fire' at two in the morning, much to the disgust of those hanging from various 'scaffolding' which was holding their broken bones in place.

Being in hospital allows those secrets we keep to ourselves to escape. We are away from family and friends and the usual run of things and this disruption can be confusing as well as annoying. Under the influence of drugs our minds can wander and we may find ourselves walking through the streets in our pyjamas or informing the doctor not to stand there because he may' harm the white rabbit.' You may be interested to know that this comment enables a patient to be transferred to the Royal Edinburgh within half an hour, a time frame other transfers could not then achieve.

The sight of patients going home is indeed a comforting one for hospital staff, especially if they are bonkers or violent. One we had was certainly a bit lacking in understanding. He was what today we refer to as 'Chav's' but then, in a more practical age, was referred to as a 'nutter.' Playing happily with a woman he found her husband coming through the door. Naturally he did what we all would do and jumped out of the window. I like to think I would have contemplated the three floors he fell down first before jumping myself but we never know do we? Anyway he landed in such a fashion as to break his leg and the husband involved endeavoured to give first aid in bets Musselburgh fashion - by kicking his head in! I am left wondering what sort of lass she was if she was involved with idiot 'a' and what was her actual,man like if involved with her, idiot 'b?' Anyway Idiot 'a' had his leg encased in plaster and eleven (11) times took it off himself because 'It itched.' I recall the registrar, as firm but fair man, informing him that he was now blacklisted and if the plaster was removed again that was his tough luck. He did not return, possibly because the senior registrar has loomed over him when in the bed a day or so before questioning his thermometer reading. 'Usually,' he said in a voice tinged with satire and threat,'people with a temperature of '108' are dead. Why aren't you?' The ward population, sitting in stony silence eager for the reply did their best to stifle the giggling.

This ward population were not the silent type, this was Edinburgh after all. They were most keen to speak when they considered it needful and one of our noble consultants constantly played into their hands by his actions. Each day a consultant would come and inspect his patients, and this one (called Mr Little?) in the usual way brought a few students and a nurse and wandered to his people. He then proceeded to ignore them! His bedside manner was to totally ignore the patient and concentrate on the X-Rays displayed on the light trolley that one of the students was given charge off. Our man would then indicate the wound, the action taken and the result to be expected. However the patient, naturally anxious and rightfully expecting a word of solace from the great man would be ignored. Edinburgh folk are at heart shy, retiring, kind folks, but not keen on being treated as second class or unimportant. "Hey pal, try telling me, it's ma leg ken?" was a not uncommon utterance from one of the few patients in the ward. Cynics would indicate their presence, "Ahm just here, behind ye doctor. If ye turn roond ye will find me, know what ah mean?" It made no difference. Years of arrogant self importance, a habit with many doctors, had led our hero to be oblivious to such cries. He ignored the pleading voice and moved on. Whether he actually spoke to a patient when unconscious on the theatre table I do not know, but he must have preferred them that way.

All this came to mind when cogitating this list I came across the other day. I am not sure how accurate it may be, but I know this sort of thing does happen, but quite where to get up to date figures I have yet to discover.

3 Scots die each year testing if a 9v battery works on their tongue.

142 Scots were injured in 1999 by not removing all pins from new shirts.

58 Scots are injured each year by using sharp knives instead of screwdrivers.

31 Scots have died since 1996 by watering their Christmas tree while the fairy lights were plugged in.

19 Scots have died in the last 3 years believing that Christmas decorations were chocolate.

Scottish Hospitals reported 4 broken arms last year after Xmas cracker-pulling accidents.

18 Scots had serious burns in 2000 trying on a new jumper with a lit cigarette in their mouth.

A massive 543 Scots were admitted to A&E in the last two years after trying to open bottles of beer with their teeth.

5 Scots were injured last year in accidents involving out-of-control Scalextric cars.

In 2000 eight Scots were admitted to hospital with fractured skulls incurred whilst throwing up into the toilet.

The list forgets to add the dozen or so who are hospitalised each year because they burn themselves while ironing clothes they are wearing!

Take care out there!