To See the Sea!

One of the things I miss most about living here is the closeness of the sea.  It is possible to reach it if I jump on a train or bus and endure the other passengers all the way to the coast but in Edinburgh we had the Firth of Forth stretch right in front of us.  Here we could see the sea and taste its aroma as the Forth made its way out to the North Sea.  In days past warships based at Rosyth would make their way out to join the rest of the fleet based in Scapa Flow.  I myself saw a nuclear submarine slip past one day some time back, just a large conning tower and the beginning of the huge volume of the vessel showing. When aged around four or five I was down there with my dad when  a man pointed out to the middle of the water, there we saw a large whale blowing away.  What kind of whale I cannot say but whale it was, the memory remains in my mind of him blowing water.  Neither sub or whale are seen today, one has been removed by London based governments and the other eaten by Japanese or Norwegians. Today not far from this point just before the Forth Bridge large vessels stop to collect the ethylene refined at the Fife Mossmorran plant for shipment to Antwerp and further along similar ships deal with the products of the Grangemouth refinery thus making the Forth a still busy shipway.  

In days of yore just along from this spot Newhaven  Harbour lay.  This small fishing village was once at a distance from both Edinburgh and Leith and has long since been swallowed up.  While many houses have been rebuilt in an old style the people are no longer distinct from those around them. Here the men in their 'pea-jacket' would fish throughout the night, a very dangerous occupation, and on returning to land the wives in their pink or yellow striped dresses would sell the catch to the girls with the 'Hurly' a basket for the fish carried on their backs.  These lassies in the mid 19th century were often Irish rather than Scots and the potato famine brought many more Irish to the city where around 25,000 soon had their abode. According to Detective James McLevy, himself of Irish extraction, the men stood around while their wives did the bartering avoiding any part in the process.  I suppose a near death experience or two at the edge of the North Sea gave them the right to expect the women to do some work, and with the lassies buying it was probably a good idea at that. 

On the far side of the Forth the Fife villages of Crail, Pittenweem and others also so small craft enter the waters to seek for fish, a process that had endured for centuries and ended only in the last fifty years. While the boats developed the danger remained the same and as the fish stocks failed and a type of industrial fishing ruined the breeding grounds the trade died.  Newhaven has developed in other ways and the Fife villages now fill with Edinburgh people too poor to buy a local house, thus leaving Fife folks with even less money less choice of housing. Commuting to work over such a vista may be enjoyable but as always someone suffers.  

The pictures of the Newhaven folks were taken by Edinburgh's two Photographic pioneers Hill and Adamson!   Using a calotype process they subjected the fishing folk to long static poses while they developed their picture.  Quite what the locals thought of this I know not.  They did pose however, in their best, or possibly their only clothes, and must have been happy, and paid, to do so again and again. The pictures taken at Cramond were examples of my brothers talent on a Nikon from a few years ago.  I found them on a disc and decided to put them to use. He wandered out very early one morning before the world had risen and took pics of places we all once knew.  Ah the aroma from the sea is with me still, or possibly I need to put some stuff down the drains again. 

.

Time/Timely

The good news is the clocks going back one hour and offering an extra sleep in the morning.  It goes without saying that I awoke at five, that was six and struggled to sleep properly until ten minutes before I had to rise.  Tsk! Struggling into the cold east wing I began looking for all the timepieces that required changing.  As always during the day others appear out of nowhere and I sometimes wonder why I have so many clocks is useful positions that I never notice except when the stop or require moving forwards or back one hour.  

Having succeeded in registering time in the house I looked to having my weekly bath, what with this being Sunday and all.  The boiler would not work!  It has been giving problems off and on and now it was just off!  The starter has decided not to start and the little red light says call for the man!  So I sent an email to the woman who calls the man who calls me and turns up probably sometime during the week.  Just as the weather turns winterish all the boilers fail, this year it's my turn.  Ah well, I suppose I can have a bath next week, no need to fuss is there. 

The thing about the Edinburgh derby is that you must realise the Heart of Midlothian always win it!  OK on occasion the wee team sometimes scrape a victory but since 1875, when we beat them one nil on Christmas Day, the Heart of Midlothian have always been the superiour side.  This is one of the blessings I have received, to be born into a Hearts of Midlothian family, how lucky is that! Hibernian fans, those few, those noble few who follow the wee team do not like this situation.  Indeed since we defeated them in the cup final, again, in 2012 one or two of the most likeable Hibs lads have only referred to me in grunts, and that via the web!  

Today the Hibs had some idea that they were in a position to defeat this mighty team, jokers that we are we played along with this allowing them to convince their feeble minded followers that a victory was on the cards.  Indeed they even managed to get the ball into our goal and with this one goal lead the happy bunch were celebrating a win long before the end.  90 minutes had been played, 4 more added by an excellent referee to cover injury time and other happenings at the end when cheering Hibbys had reality restored.  That great man Alim Ozturk strode forward into enemy territory, unleashed a shot from close on 40 yards and watched as it sailed into the air, dipped, and off the bottom of the crossbar rocketed into the Hibs net!  Oh what a shot, what a goal, what a laugh (in love obviously) as the Green and white clad lower orders stared in disbelief.  Once more they had failed to win, once more the BIG TEAM took a point, we should have had three) once more i expect to hear grunts over social media soon, when they come out of the pub/sulk/coma. 

Some feardies thought Hearts were going to lose?  Some, like me, are not old enough to experience the shock of being defeated by Hibernian.  Tsk!  The Edinburgh derby, one of the most one sided in the world.  Still, it's a giggle innit?   

.

The World Tonight

Unknown Photographer

The world tonight shows Scotland's capital Edinburgh along with the rest of the nation on tenterhooks as they approach the day of reckoning.  Tomorrow the historic decision must be taken to break the stranglehold of England upon Scotland and become an independent nation once again.  It is not possible to understand how anyone, bar those making money from London or the sectarian bigots in  the west coast can bring themselves to refuse independence.  No other nation has ever done that!  The lies of the BBC and the London media, the slanted news coverage, the friends of London lining up to spout lies for their own advantage surely have been seen through?  Even tonight the 'Telegraph' offers a major headline concerning a pensioner attacked while supporting the NO vote.  At no time have the many YES folk attacked been given publicity by this foul paper. It also ignores the owner offering the Scots editor £20,000 to encourage a NO vote!  The twisted facts and false promises that will never come to pass must ensure the Scots take the step we must all desire in our hearts, independence.  The nation awaits, the world watches on, and I wish I was there!

In some places Scotland's trials mean little.  The people of Utter Pradesh watch the Hiindu nationalists trawl through the villages seeking to force Christians and Muslim to return to the Hindu religion.  This has led to many problems for Christians with leaders being harassed and attacked as they go about their day. The ability to start a riot must be one of the easiest thing to learn in India, they happen almost daily, and when the Hindu's turn on Christians dwellings are destroyed and people seriously damaged and killed.  This will of course get no coverage in the media.

In Syria and Iraq there will be little possibility to acknowledge Scotland's peaceful vote.  They will be cut off from electricity in most places and dodging bullets and madmen elsewhere.  It makes me glad to be where I am sometimes when I see how folks live elsewhere.  major wars we hear about to some extent but smaller conflicts, especially those that are ongoing for some time are less important to our news providers, they wish new action, loud explosions, crying women or some sex story involving someone famous.  The media feed up bread and circuses daily and we cannot see it!

Some of course are enjoying their own Garden of Eden, and I am not in the least jealous of them, my skin has an unfortunate green tint anyway with all the green stuff I now eat!  The sufferings in one place do not stop us having good times in another.  It has always been thus and will remain so until the end.  Enjoy while you can, the bill arrives at the end of the month!

I attended a talk at the museum this afternoon on how the Great War affected Essex.  This was interesting and naturally afterwards I was surrounded by attractive young women asking me for information.  The interesting thing at these events is the offhand information that comes out. Two men spoke to the speaker and later he said both had relatives who died at Gallipoli and lie in the same graveyard there.  Naturally he did not collect their names or pass them on to me! Tsk!  It did mean I had yet more info to search tonight for the pretty young blonde woman looking for a granddad who survived but the relevant information has been lost.  

Whatever happens look up, the sky is always there, even if it is under a cloud!

.

Saturday Postscript.

It's Saturday night and I have once again forgotten this blog.  I know not why as I've read others blogs, come up with several really good blog ideas which I have soon forgotten.  I could write about the three political books I have gone through, two on ex Prime Ministers and one on an MP who reached the bottom level of government and disliked what he found.  However these bore people who do not wish know about such things and anyway I forget much of what I read. 
I could discuss football but I hate to gloat about success.  There is the question of money, but as you and I don't have none there is no point!  I could discuss my diet but do not wish to appear like one of those blasted cooks that fill the TV airwaves!  Anyway who wishes to hear about fruit and porridge? Bah!

One of the many bad things this week is the camera becoming filled up with dust!  This means it must be off to my brother who refuses to allow me to get the screwdriver out to clean it.  He seems to think I am ham fisted and incompetent just because I am ham fisted and incompetent. What do I do until it returns, probably sometime in 2050?  A trip round the second hand shops calls, but I am too busy rewriting the booklet and cannot leave the laptop!  Why does the day have only 24 hours and why am I so lazy?  
Never mind, I'm off to sleep anyway....  

A Wee Run North

.

Bank Holiday Monday Again

This is a scene in Edinburgh's Granton area a couple of weeks ago, it may still be there.  The UKIP poster, (United Kingdom Independence Party with the UK to leave the EU, and many consider them racist for not wanting high immigration) is found planted alongside an advert for tents claiming 'No Poles Required!'  There has in recent years been an influx of young folks from Poland into the UK leaving some to demand whether these posters placed side by side was a deliberate act on someones part.  I doubt it, but even so, it is quite funny.
There can be no doubt immigration is a big issue today.  However who knows what the actual numbers of immigrants actually happens to be?  Government figures cannot be trusted, even by governments, UKIP or any other lobby group certainly will not tell the truth, and the only fact is that the entire UK is overcrowded.  However, once Scotland becomes independent you will note only England, and Wales, become crowded, Scotland having masses of highlands bereft of life bar English incomers looking for a better world.  UKIP remains an England First Party, probably some members are racist, some certainly a bit loopy, however many similar remain within the Conservative Party but the papers do not mention that, certainly not during the lead up to an election.  
The European Election is with us in 20 or so days.  We ave the opportunity to send people into obscurity on vast wages, huge expenses, long hours of wasting everybody's time, and changing not one iota of life for you and me as far as I am aware up to this point.  The EU is such a farce. The accounts have never been signed off for 20 years, nobody knows where the money goes, few if any care or understand the financial side, yet nothing is done!  Talk is loud now, action unseen tomorrow.  Laws are passed, ignored by France, yet important here!  It is time for a rethink.  Let us work with Europe, but not in a Federal state.  Let us trade, help, aid, develop the poorer parts, but first let us remove the millions earning vast sums in Strasbourg, Brussels and wherever else they dwell.  I'm thinking of voting either 'Green' or 'UKIP,' as both would serve them right and keep them away from us!
   

Being a bank holiday, in which everyone bar supermarkets and greedy shops take the long weekend off, there was nothing happening today.  This made no difference whatsoever to this small town!  Actually it does, most shops shut, businesses closed and many took advantage of a reasonably warm day to clean the car, go visit in-laws, or even have a happy time.  I did nothing, so no change there.  The bright blue sky caused me to cycle up the old railway however, puffing up that slope far more than any F5 engine ever did I can tell you.

     Pah! You call that steam!

Clearly this is doing me good health wise, or so they say, but it did not feel this way at the time. There were few about, which always make it worth while.

The morning sun makes me want to take pictures but there was nothing but this aged gate, once entrance to a busy coal depot, the only interesting object on view.  I can tell it bores you, it did little for me.  However this depot must have been important in the coal fired days.  Every house required coal, all stations along the line had similar layouts busy with bags of coal being transferred to lorries and taken to almost every house in the area.  I say almost as with all the woods around in the past I suspect many chopped their own for the fire, saving money and keeping fit.  Today we just turn the switch and grumble at the power companies ripping us off. Where are all the old coalmen now?  Dead I suppose. Any living will be well into their eighties, probably older, but I suspect still fit! Jobs come and go with the change of lifestyle yet as far as I know few tears were shed for coalmen who lost out to the Clean Air Act.  Yet for well over a hundred years such men kept the nation warm, industry working and when stocks were low suffered the abuse for something they could do little about. Now they are forgotten.  So many old jobs once commonplace have gone in fifty years.  Factories, railway sidings, once the employer of thousands now turned into small shops, scout huts or out of town supermarkets.  How quickly we forget.    

Do you know muscles used rarely hurt when used?  As I write this rubbish my muscles are informing me of this very fact.  When I rise in the morrow I wonder if they will remind me then also.....?
  
.

Gray Again

The sky outside showed itself rather gray once again as peering through the crack in the curtains I hesitated to rejoin the world.  In the far distance sunlight lit up the edges of openings in the grayness yet very quickly this flickered and died.  The usual Spring weather.  The recent warmth has faded and people are heard discussing the past few days as if Summer has been and gone already. This naturally brought Edinburgh to mind.  As I now live in the 'driest county in Englandshire' it has been no surprise to me that it has rained constantly since I got here.  More so after I became a postman!  Having been led by my creaking knees into unemployment and now the position of retired miserable old git I expected the rain to cease, I was wrong.

Being brought up in Edinburgh, the capital of the free world, I have an inner tendency to expect the worst. Always awaiting the wind blowing in from the west no matter how strong the sun may shine. The trees planted in the gap between the two roads outside our door when we moved in there in 1953 have grown up with an obvious east leaning.  When the wind comes from the eastern direction however it begins in the Arctic just north of Siberia, crosses Poland, gathers speed and arrives via the North Sea and goes straight up ones kilt! This I can tell you, is not pleasant.
Edinburgh weather records go back well into the 1600's.  These were used recently by researchers studying the rainfall there.  It appears that whenever a volcano erupted in the northern parts of America Scotland suffered the effects. Edinburgh's rainfall increased and I strongly suspect nobody really noticed the difference.  Consider this, Edinburgh then comprised the city on a volcanic hill, a tall stone built city with tenements ten or twelve stories high.  This small area, houses, churches, official buildings, all surrounded by a wall, extended to the 'Flodden Wall,' contained almost 40,000 persons by 1650, 60,000 were living there by 1700!  Admittedly many lived outwith the walls if they had money enough, but the vast majority were contained in the tight space high up on the rock.
They would have experienced similar weather to today's population, the Haar that often hangs over the city would have given the many trainee doctors therein much practice.  Add the cold misty weather to the stink of overflowing drains and it is not a wonder that Edinburgh produced many great physicians. There were many on which to practice.

Weather affects our personality.  The weather where we live affects our character, our minds disposition and our outlook on life.  People living in deserts have a differing culture to those dwelling in vast crowded cities.  The open skies above lift the mind and the heart, glass and concrete blocking the view depress. Scandinavians suffer deep depressions during the six months darkness many endure, no wonder the Vikings moved south.  Did the darkness inculcate a violent streak into their hearts?  Could that have just hardened what already existed? Certainly the world is a better place as the sun rises.  

Today the skies attempted to clear, occasional dark brooding clouds covered the land and passed on, hastened by the wind, the direction of which was ably demonstrated by the plastic bags caught in the branches of the trees opposite. The sky eventually lightened sufficient to allow an interesting hue as the light of the day ended.  Darkness now encloses this part of the world, bright lights shine from windows, television light twinkles in occasional rooms, and pedestrians light their way by reading their telephones!  The darkness is never dark these days.     


.

Interesting Scotia Happenings

gCaptain

'Gardyloo,' as you well know, was the exclamation shouted from old Edinburgh tenements when someone wished to empty their 'pisspot' into the gutter that ran down the middle of the narrow close.  Such a load offered from several floors above, some buildings reaching ten stories, was not the most pleasant part of Edinburgh past.  Walking through it on the way ho,e from the tavern would not have been a barrel of laughs either I suspect.  Hygiene was not much improved anywhere in what is laughingly referred to as the 'United Kingdom' until the middle of the nineteenth century.  Then Ministers of Health were to be found in most cities and sewerage, slum clearance, clean water and soap brought much needed improvements.  Edinburgh, not surprisingly, produced some of the best and most inventive doctors in the world!  They had a lot to go on, as it were.  

During the twentieth century, which some of you may be old enough to remember, Scotland's capital still had problems with sewage.  By this time pipes ran way out into the Firth of Forth depositing unwanted material into the waters where it would be passed on into the north Sea. This is the same same North Sea where our Haddock came from and they kindly recycled the stuff back to us through the many 'chippies.'  I recall the early 70's when Edinburgh streets were in upheaval as a new sewage works arrived down Portobello way at Seafield.  Normally this seaside 'resort,' I use that word sparingly, contained the youthful Hibernian players and their fans idling the day's away while bigger clubs participated in European competition, however during this decade the contents of the sewage pipes had failed to reach the Haddock in the North Sea and instead arrived unwelcome on Porty beach.  Some folks still swam!  Leith people eh?  The council swiftly moved into action, once a backhander had arrived, allegedly, thousands of tons of new, clean sand was deposited, the new sewage works opened  and people removed the clothes pegs from their noses.

This was not without mishap of course.   While working in the infirmary one chap (English of course) arrived in the ward, both hands tied to a rack keeping his arms in the air.  Behind him came a nurse carrying a small bowl containing several of his fingers, or bits of his fingers.  He then had Professor James sew them back on again.  I spent the next two weeks looking after him, doing all those things you wish you could do yourself, until he was considered fit enough to return home.  I wonder how his hands are now?   Possibly the shaving cuts have healed also?  He was a warning that when fixing a large industrial fan, make sure it will not swing round swiftly when your hands are inside!

The fitters work at the Seafield plant may have been good, at least up till someone switched the fan on, but Edinburgh still had an excess of waste to deal with, this is where the 'Bovril Boats' come in!  'Bovril' itself as you know was an invention of an Edinburgh Butcher, John Lawson Johnson.  He later moved to Canada (because Edinburgh was too warm?) where his 'beef glaze' was developed into 'Bovril' as we know it today.  This he sold to Napoleon's army and made his name and his money!  However the substance also gave its name to the 'sludge boats.'  To remove the contents of the sewers boats collected from sewage farms as much as they could contain and sailed into recognised areas at sea and dumped the lot for the tides to disperse. From 1978, while I existed on a pittance in a hole in a wall in Notting Hill the M.V. Gardyloo operating from Leith Docks, took up to half a million metric  tonnes of 'sludge' from the people of Edinburgh, and headed of to St Abbs Head or the 'Bell Rock' to release its contents there.  For twenty years this interesting operation continued.  However while the dumping ground was carefully chosen, and the ship 'ponged' a wee bit the interesting thing was the passengers!  At no charge twelve passengers were entertained on the short trip and were given breakfast, coffee and biscuits, lunch and even their tea while they inspect the sea life on the islands in the Forth, especially the Bass Rock I suspect.  In between using binoculars on nesting seabirds or examining the wheelhouse the ship would dump its load on unsuspecting Cod.  Their opinion has not been recorded.  A very good day out this seems to me and I wish I had known of its existence at the time.  I would have been aboard at a shot!  Sadly EU regulations forbade such dumping in 1998 and these boats curtailed their employment and were passed on to others for less exciting work. The 'Gardyloo' now transports 'fresh water' for Azerbaijan!  The Seafield Water Treatment Works, a nice way to say 'sewage,' continues the work, although much attention is required concerning the 'odour' that local citizens may notice from time to time.  Some £50 million may have to be spent to deal with that.  The boat was cheaper!

BBC

From 1950 until 1953 the United Nations fought its first war, this took place in Korea.  The 'Cold War' had begun and used third world countries as battlefields.  Our fifty years of peace were fifty years of war for Africa, South East Asia and Central and South America, among others.  Fifty to a hundred million died, still, we were doing OK so that's alright then.  The Japanese had dominated Korea for around a hundred years and when removed in 1945 a political decision meant the nation was divided between the Soviets to the north and the USA to the south.  The two nations began to develop along different lines and in June 1950 the Communist North invaded the South making the UN rush into action - eventually.  An army comprising twenty nations, with almost 90% being American, arrived under 'Mad Boy' MacArthur.  The United Kingdom, still devastated after the defeat of Hitler, sent a large number of troops to this war, much against public opinion!  Two major wars in fifty years, a depression and now with rationing still ongoing few cared about a nation they had never heard off.   However a force built from the Commonwealth was sent.  The British Commonwealth Forces Korea (BCFK) comprised Australian, New Zealand, Indian, Canadian and British  forces and numbered 100,000 men and this was always led by an Australian. For the most part however these men have been forgotten!  The British units involved are named here.  

Allowing for the lack of news at the time, TV was in its beginning after the war and the Radio and newspapers appeared to play down the war itself.  Indeed one returning soldier stepped of a train in Edinburgh's Waverly Station where a friend greeted him.  When asked where he had been he replied "Korea," and his friend had no idea what he was talking about!  The war was so badly reported because no-one wished to know.  The Britain of the early fifties was rebuilding after the war, houses were in desperately short supply, wages were low, the ravages of war and the building of families and a new life took precedence.  The men who served, and suffered greatly, were forgotten.  As indeed were those in Britain's other small wars, the 'End of Empire' wars.  

Now however this new enlarged memorial has been opened to remember those Scots who served before they all pass away.  Situated in  West Lothian, of a Korean design, surrounded by Scots and Korean trees to represent the dead, the hills also suggest Korea to those who were there.  Many died there, many were traumatised, as any 19 year old on National Service would be!  Forgotten on their return, ignored at the time, these men endured for their country as did those from the other conflicts since that time.  It is good that something is done to remember their actions. 

.

Cultural Differences

Reading the excellent 'The Venomous Bead,'  I began to muse on the differences in 'culture' that have befallen my miserable existence.  It was in 1969 that I first encountered London life.  I had been in one or two norther English places, to visit or watch football, but London is a world apart from everywhere else.  The buses were different, poor quality, noisy 'Routemasters,' rough but eminently suitable for the job.  Edinburgh always prided itself on decent quality buses for the citizens.  People stood outside pubs in London, something never done back home, although weather may play a part in this.  The biggest shock was cricket!  I left the Leadenhall Market one midweek day while wending my way around the City and as I crossed the road I noticed a crowd gathered outside an office window.  In this window was a TV, set to face the road quite deliberately, and offering the Cricket Test Natch being played 'somewhere in England!'  I was amazed!  A crowd of 40 or more people were standing watching this event, with a City of London policeman ensuring a path  was clear for passersby!  Incredible!  Some of the men were actually standing in the gutter to watch cricket at lunchtime!  Goodness gracious!  Never would this happen in Edinburgh, unless a football match was being shown obviously, but cricket?  Don't be ridiculous.  When I began to work in North Finchley in 1975 again I was surprised to hear working men getting excited over cricket.  It would never happen among normal Scotsmen.

In '75 I settled after a rough month or so in Swiss Cottage, in a slum that I believe no longer exists, I think it may have fallen down.  I would look to the newsagent for news of Scottish football and be disappointed.  I could get papers from Egypt, France, Spain, even the USA but not from Scotland 400 miles up the road!  The radio, a small very cheap radio, offered London and national news, and later what was then the excellent World Service of the BBC, but little concerning Scottish affairs.  Had I learned several languages I could have been knowledgeable of world football everywhere but north of the border.  It was as if Scotland did not exist!  This has not changed.  

Getting the Routemaster to work showed me a different culture, and one that would not work up north.  There were two types of bus stop, a bus stop where buses stopped, and a 'request stop,' where you had to stick your hand out or they just passed by.  Edinburgh drivers then, and most likely now, can tell if you want the bus and stop for you.  The 6:09 bus, when driven and conducted by a regular able team, always came on time and did the job happily.  However on many occasions a wee black fellow was the conductor.  This driver would stop at all stops, irrespective of passengers or not, and wait until conductor pressed the bell.  Conductor, who never collected fares, merely stood and stared out the door.  Driver sat there awaiting the bell and refused to move until it rang.  Incredible!  I would be more 'assertive' today than I was then. 

I had spent a year between 1971-72 in Notting Hill and after returning north I found Edinburgh old and boring.  Shops opened at 9, closed at 12, reopened after lunch at 1 and closed at 5, in London I had a 24 hour shop around the corner!  When the Indians were chased out of West Africa by the Idi Amin's ( a King of Scotland apparently) and arrived in the city they changed it overnight for the better.  Shops opened at 8 am, and closed at 6!  What a revelation!  Some even    stayed open later and more, they stocked exotic fruits like peppers and eggplants.  Incredible to think so many things had only been found in the expensive shops if found at all.  

One culture that destroys Scotland is the hangover from Northern Ireland.  The sectarian divide between protestant and catholic, neither side seeking God of course, which lingers throughout the land but is very dominant in the west of Scotland.  Both sides are at fault and for most it makes no difference to their lives as whatever and whoever you are the treatment offered is the same.  However there are quite a few who relish the difference and would happily contribute to trouble if it arose.  The vile history of Rangers and Celtic, the 'Old Firm,' encourages such attitudes and only by removing the sectarian bias from both clubs can this ever be eradicated.  They decry this as that is the cause of their wealth, and anyway, isn't it all the other guys fault?  In England it is difficult to explain this divide to those who cannot understand it, and no wonder. 

The difference between two cities can be very wide,  Six miles from here is a similar sized town full of 'London overspill,' where vast numbers commute regularly down to the big city.  Their town has an 'London attitude,' while here we are all 'nice,' well usually.  Further north and the town there is much more rural and the thought that most of the locals are related is difficult to remove from the head.   That's country life for you I suppose.   This blog encompasses the world, and the cultures vary enormously, imagine if you will towns full of Yorkshiremen!  Just imagine that!  On second thoughts......

.

The Great City

I have 'borrowed' this excellent video I found on YouTube.  This intelligent lass went to Edinburgh (Pronounced Edinburra) and discovered it was the great city she had hoped it would be.  The sun even shone for her, and that is unusual it must be said.  Always be prepared for a touch of dreich drizzle when there. (Glasgow sends it over!)  It is a nice tourist video made in 2009.  One day I might go back and make my own.  

. 

Almost Homesick

Periodically I get a bit homesick for Edinburgh.  Unlike when I lived there and was sick of home, but I was a wee bit younger then.  As I approach my decrepitude I sometimes long for things I once knew, the family, the attitudes, the football, the rain.  After all these years falling flat on my face in this dead end I am beginning to wish for other things.  Being closer to the family up north is one thing, being nearer to friends down on the south coast near the sea is another.  So I indulge myself in an occasional fantasy of life in one of these places, or indeed in a place where the sun shines each day rather than once in a blue moon - or whatever the phrase is.  

However these remain fantasies.  Money prevents any move, unless someone rich pays.  More importantly life is not a fantasy, reality moves in and slaps you across the face, rather like that lass on the No 19 bus that time...   Edinburgh has changed a great deal since 1975.  A vibrant, diverse (a word usually meaning gayboys!), multi-cultural place today whereas in the past....now just hold on a minute!  Edinburgh has always been 'vibrant!  It is Scotland's capital city, with a financial centre second only to London, and constant contact between both, Fred Goodwin anyone?  'Diverse?'  There has always been 'diverse 'folks up Calton Hill I can tell you.  I was followed by one when I was about eleven years old and that was diverse enough for me!  We all knew about the 'Abercrombie' in those days, although I never went near the place.  Whether it still exists I know not but they say that in the past the Police would round such folks up (probably during the Festival) and dump them on the London train to haste them 'back where ye belong!'  'Multi-cultural?'  The University,  the Medical school, a wide variety of embassy consulates and business interests (Heart of Midlothian played a black player a few times in the late 19th century.  His dad ran a business in Leith.  He wasn't that good mind, belonged at Hibs!)  At primary school several kids form such places attended, one black lad playing football in the playground in bare feet!  He was brilliant!  

However while it has always been such a city it has changed.  Better in many ways, worse in others.  Would I fit in there today if I could afford it?  Do I really want to live in a city?  Somewhere nearby may be better, a place a bit like this one, but without the neds in the park opposite!  The south coast would be similar to Edinburgh, with a warmer sea than the Forth!.  Nearer to good friends but not my 'home,' as it were.  Expensive but by the sea, which means tourists, which is not good.   Of course you will  note I have not mentioned whether the family or my friends would wish me to be any nearer than a few hundred miles away.  I will not ask, and people tend to prefer me at a distance I find, so possibly better not to disrupt that!  Ah well, back to reality.  Changes in some circumstances are afoot, at least I don't mean my foot is changing, what I mea... never mind.   Maybe in a months time something new will have changed my mind again.  I may have a better fantasy to work on by then, a cheaper one hopefully.

.

Mons Meg

Mons Meg

High up on the ramparts of Edinburgh Castle stands the colossal 'Supergun' known as 'Mons Meg!'  This monster weapon was capable of hurling a cannonball weighing around 385 pounds (or one American) over two miles distance. If it were to be fired today, just as it was in 1558 to celebrate the marriage of Mary Queen of Scots to the French 'Dauphin' François, the shell would do no good whatsoever to the Granton Harbour area! 


It was the French connection brought this behemoth to Edinburgh in the fifteenth century. The Duke of Burgundy, known as 'Philip the Good,' a title probably given him by some PR groveller earning a high fee, donated this gun to James II, King of Scots. Philip, being James uncle by marriage and wishing to ensure the Scots kept disputing with the English and thereby aiding the French fight with the imperialists south of the border, sent him the most powerful gun ever made as a gift! Being brought to life in the small (now Belgian) town of Mons, later to find fame as the place Britain entered the Great War against Germany in 1914, the name 'Mons' stuck to the gun. Quite which 'Meg' was responsible for giving her name to the gun is disputed as this was only added very much later. From early accounts it is possible she was just known as the 'Mons Gun.' 


The gun was used in anger only rarely. The weight of just over six tons made travel difficult and roads were of course just dirt tracks. The effort required, the number of oxen prodigious (which is another way of saying I don't know how many), and in those rainy days that frequently affect Scotland the mud would make travel very difficult and cause even the gentle folk of Scotland to express curses while pulling the beast. While 'Meg' was powerful it was also difficult to fire more than half a dozen shots at a time because of the heat given off by the powder required during firing. 'Mons Meg' was indeed trundled down to Roxburgh Castle in the borders to deal with a dispute there in 1460 but only once dealt with the English foe and that at Norham Castle, now just on the far side of the border. Cannon frequently exploded while in action and a smaller cannon did  just that fatally wounded King James II at Roxburgh. 'Meg' visited Dumbarton Castle in 1489 in an effort to impress the Duke of Lennox regarding his obedience however the guns progress was slower than a woman through a shoe shop and in time meant Edinburgh Castle became home for 'Meg' where she became a 'saluting gun!'


Apart from the 1558 firing when Mary married her Frenchman the gun was also fired in 1689 to greet James, Duke of Albany and York. He, as you will know, later became James VII and II. (That is, for our English audience, James the Seventh of Scots and James the Second of England. The English have a problem in forgetting that the James's were kings of two nations, not just theirs!) James VII & II by the way was rubbish! His grandson became known as 'Bonnie Prince Charlie, and a right Charlie was he as you probably know! It is interesting to note that when James the Duke of Albany and York arrived the gun was fired in salute by an English gunner. The barrel burst and this led to accusations that the gunner had deliberately overloaded the gun because the English were jealous they did not possess so great a weapon! I couldn't possibly comment!     

English grabbing of Scots property after the sell out in 1707 continued with the removal (by Pickfords I ask?) of 'Mons Meg' to the Tower of London' in 1754. She may well have remained there still had Sir Walter Scott, busy inventing a colourful Scots history to pay his debts, persuaded George IV to return her to where she belonged and so she arrived home, tired and weary, in 1829. Since then the huge gun has been attended to on the Castle rock by the keepers of antiquities and the numerous children who insist on clambering all over her.  Many a house has photographs of such hidden away in an album!

Day By Day

I originally posted this on another blog, but no-one read it and I kept forgetting to use it.  I will now transfer anything worth reading (in my opinion!) and dump it here.

.

Desperate Abstract

Desperate to find a photo worth taking today.  Weather didn't help, having too much work to do didn't help, having no talent didn't help.  So I gathered together the pencils and produced this!  Long ago in a photo mag I read that pictures are all around you!  Open your eyes and see them.  This is true but it is not always possible to see them.  Coming from Edinburgh, the most beautiful city in the world, I found that for the first few years living in London I could not 'see' any pictures when I returned to Edinburgh.  The problem was the castle, the buildings, the surroundings were all part of growing up and I just took them for granted.  I could not 'see' pictures for a few years.  There again who wishes to see pictures of wet buildings, ancient or not?  


Tomorrow the kitchen!

.

Quandary

I'm in a quandary here, according to that excellent man Max this blog needs to be entertaining, something people enjoy, something they like, otherwise I will not get rich from the Google ads posted here.  People, especially those spending money, will only come here if the want to, and if they like what they find.  This indeed leaves a quandary!  Surely no-one comes here because they 'like' it?  I thought I was part of some Blogger punishment routine!  What do people wish to read?  What do they like?  What would they enjoy?  I ask these questions regarding this site, not what they really like, enjoy or read in private at home!  I am not publishing the stuff my readers read at home thank you!  There again why should I publish what they want?  I do not read their blogs because they write what I like, I read them because I like what I they write, and have come to like the person behind what I read.  They write for themselves not me, and this works fine.  I suppose that is where the great enjoyment arises.  


If therefore I were to make attempt to make money I must act like a daily tabloid and write what readers want, even if this is half truths and downright lies, features half naked celebrities bonking other celebs, and scandalous tales of rape, murder, conniving politicians and such like.  I am not sure that would be an audience I wish to gather.  I am convinced that may well sell adverts but not to me.  I would rather read the ads than such bile.  For me, I prefer the thinking, erudite, normal folk who pass by here, and I am not sure they wish to read tabloid gossip, well not here anyway.  So, the result of this quick cogitation leaves me spouting bile, writing off the top off my head, misspelling words (UK style), mistyping rambling thoughts and ideas, and being corrected by my superiours day by day?  Yeah, that seems fine to me.  So, no more  enjoyment, just more of the same!  Good eh?  What........oh!

Richard Webb

There again I am surprised to a great extent that I managed to survive this long, what with those early days of malnutrition and post war austerity.  Mince and tatties was all we could afford, and then only if dad grew the potatoes in that plot just outside our cardboard box.  Quite where Mum obtained the mince was never clear but Dad never liked that butcher fellow.  Of course we were lucky!  Some folks had it tough, like the people up the road living in that hole in the road.  Real bad when the rains came I can tell you, and in Edinburgh rain came two days out of three in them long gone days.  It hardly rains at all there now in comparison.  I suppose they and we were lucky, having running water I mean, in the south east of Englandshire that dried up come April and hosepipes for the rich were outlawed.  We never knew what a hosepipe was until 1970.  How we longed for the fish van coming up once a week from Port Seton.  Sixpence worth of scrag ends 'for the cat' Mum would say, and we would feast that night!  Later we actually got ourselves a cat, but that was in the days of 'never having it so good!'  It was delicious!

However my luck has changed.  From today I will be rich and all thanks to NOC!  Yes indeedy the National Oil Company of Libya has sent me an email detailing my winnings (in a lottery In which I do not have to buy a ticket) of $540,000 US dollars in the fight against HIV/Aids.  I am of course sharing a much bigger pot with seven others in the 3rd level of this draw.  This however is brilliant, this will be worth about £350,000 I guess in real money and that might just clear all my debts.  Woohooo!  How lucky am I to receive this, not only unexpected, but unasked for fortune!  I am so happy.  I guess this is all down to removing that Ghaddafi fellow and sharing his oil through a South African (they say) company.  All I have to do is send my details to Mr Angelo Christians their rep in J'Burg and I will be rich!  Ha!  I bet Prince Bauberg in Nigeria, and Akhmed Abedaye in Nairobi are  jealous they did not win, although they have around $25 million dollars (US) they wish to remove from Africa for safe keeping.  I don't need to help them now, I will just live of my (unasked for) lottery winnings.  No more cave in the wilderness, no more cardboard boxes, from now on I will tour the US spending my (US) dollars and flouting their customs patrols searching for Soub and RDG.  Well I will wait until after the Euro 2012 has finished first.

.

The Bike

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, so this afternoon, once I had worked up the courage, I got out onto the bike for the first time in two months.  I had decided yesterday that another exercise period was required, so this morning I attempted just that and in the afternoon I jumped on the rusting old bike and pedaled around for twenty minutes. The sun may have been shining but the wind was coming from the east, via Siberia, so while my genteel hands were warm and cosy in the gloves my face took an instant dislike to being frozen.  Once home I walked around the town continuing to being frozen but the only way to avoid the knees freezing up also!


This little trip made me wonder how, in 1974, I had managed to cycle from Edinburgh to London!  I had the idea that this would be a cheap holiday so I decided to by a bike!  Now remember that I had not ridden a bike for about ten years yet I searched the papers and found one on sale for £18!  I made my way to the south east of the city and bought a bike from a man who told me that the owner had, "Gone to Australia."  I found myself wondering in he knew he had emigrated.  However I got on the bike, somewhat shakily, and suddenly remembered I had miles to go through Edinburgh streets.  I cannot recall the journey but I suspect it was not straight forward.  A few weeks later I set off on my journey.  Today, having developed the brain a bit better, I would spend six months training for this venture, checking the food I ate, stocking up on carbohydrates and the like.  Then I just jumped on the bike, a packet of sandwiches and a few bags of raisins and nuts or some such, and discovered this was not going to be as easy as I thought.  Cycling to work was one thing, cycling with packs on the bike another, and it rained!


It tool me two hours to be clear of Edinburgh as I wandered through Leith and Musselburgh heading for the A1 and the road south.  It did not take the rest of the week to make me realise I was a clown!  Cycling the back roads of the A1 was pleasant to look at, but the up and down nature of the roads got very wearing, especially as old men on ancient bikes swept past me contemptuously.  Averaging fifty miles a day (today about three!) I made it in a week.  I stopped at a couple of Youth Hostels for the first two nights and was not impressed, so stayed in a couple of pubs and a couple of boarding houses after this.  The locals were friendly and while they considered me an idiot they managed not to do this to my face.  I don't know why, I agreed with them!  Had I been making a telly programme about this I would find adventures, women, excitement, women, crimes, women, rich rewards, women, interesting places full of the rich with women, but as it was just me I merely took a fifty mile shortcut that took me a mere ten miles further on one day, and no women!  The wind, naturally, was constantly against me, the rain knew where I was, I discovered that 'Mild' was acceptable beer, that 15th century pubs bedrooms floors sank in the middle, and that when you pass the Hartlepool United Football Club doorway you are miles of course. I intended to ride through York but took the wrong road and went around it and couldn't be bothered to go back, I stopped to take a picture of the lovely pink sunset over the 'Selby Oil & Cake Works,' forgetting the 'Instamatic' had a Black & White film inside,  and that road signs saying 'Village 1 mile,' are followed at 30 yards by another claiming 'Village 1/2 mile.'  


I suppose it was worth it but how I did it I do not know.  The bike was sent back via a carrier, and took 8 days to arrive, and I returned by train!  No fool me.  Had I the energy would I do this again? Yes, but with a bit more planning this time, and a car as back up!  I used the bike a lot in those days, for work and pleasure.  I cycled over the Forth Bridge and back via Kincardine, up into the lower Pentlands, struggling up the slope, and racing back as Edinburgh slopes down to the Forth so I got home a lot quicker than I went out! The only problem with the bike was that twice the tyre exploded in the middle of the night while at home!  We never worked that one out.  The 'Sun' racer was a good bike for me, but I prefer my present ageing one I must admit.  Maybe I had better try another trip tomorrow as they claim snow is on the way.  Hopefully it will remain in Scotland, where it belongs!

.

Ne'erday Derby

Sadly the New Years Day Derby has to take place a day late these days, tradition sometimes changes after all. However one tradition has not changed, the traditional Christmas Stuffing the Heart of Midlothian give to the Hibernian each Mid Winter.  The Glasgow based media are not inclined to withhold their animosity towards the Heart of Midlothian, especially since Chairman Vlad Romanov spoke out about their anti Hearts and pro Old Firm bias, referred to them as 'Monkeys,' and filled the press room at the ground with bananas!  Daily we see attacks on the Heart of Midlothian, until today unanswered as the club (that is Vlad) decided not to communicate with the media, and the clubs financial problems made into headlines at all times even though Rangers football club are indeed in dire straights.  Rangers as you are aware owe £49 million to the taxman, their new chairman has a business record that has caused consternation among the clubs better supporters and yet nothing is said in the media about this!   One story concentrates on the Heart of Midlothian delaying payment of wages to the players.  One thought is that this is because the bank behind the club has money troubles caused by the recession, another view is Vlad is delaying payment, by a month or more, to 'encourage' the better paid players to move on to other clubs!  Ian Black was thus found helping a mate redecorate  and the story was given much publicity that he had to do this to pay for his family.  I suspect his wage is sufficient for him to survive a month without payment without earning cash from friends.  However any story that makes the Hearts look bad gets good coverage.


Today therefore the Hearts traveled to Leith to meet the wee team with empty pockets but much more ability! The Hibernian journeymen (and where should this lot journey to I ask?) were brushed aside in spite of their thuggish brutal attacks on our players, and Ian Black in particular.  Clearly 'Blackie' was here to show them some revenge, and so he did, manfully baring the abuse (four ought to have been cautioned and only was was!) and running the game from start to finish.  We will ignore the missed penalty, that was just to rub it in at the end I suspect.  The 'jibe' about painting is the reason he showed of the T-shirt with "I'll paint this place Maroon," at the end.  However in my view the man of the match was in fact our left back Ryan McGowan. 'Gowser,' an Australian, gave the 'headless chicken' Ivan Sproule a torrid time, except when assaulted by the thug and he then reacted somewhat foolishly by headbanging the neds stomach.  Good refereeing allowed both off and 'Gowser' can happily go home rejoicing in a great victory and knowing he was the scorer of the first goal!  An enthusiastic performer, our of position, and bang on form, great player.  I just hope Manchester United were not looking, they canny afford him!  Apart from ten minutes after the break when Hibs attempted a new tactic, they passed the ball to one another, there was little to fear. The resulting three one victory, with substitute John Sutton arriving to play well and create two goals and finish them off, was well deserved.  The team spirit and solidarity showed from start to finish from the 'Maroons,' and the money troubles that create so much press has never affected their performances.  


A quick glance at the London Hearts site shows that 'Dave' the author has not made it home yet. So I will update you on the simple facts regarding this game.  So far the Heart of Midlothian have won 276 derbies of all types, Hibs have won only 200.  In doing this the Hearts have scored 1065 goals, Hibs a paltry 892, and I can assure you many that I saw were either 'offside,' or favouritism from referees! This may well be the most one sided Derby in the world!  I once met a Hibernian fan in London, he was in the hospital where I worked,his illness?  Blackouts and depression!  No wonder!


In these lazy days around the festive season I have spent hours stealing football matches on my PC.  Normally I dislike doing this but I really cannot afford 'Sky,' which I would have otherwise.  I am managing two or three games a day at the moment, or at least bits of games, and in opposition to this TV offers absolutely nothing!  How sad is this?  Still, I am happy, especially after today.  I just wish I was in Edinburgh so I could walk into work tomorrow and smile smugly at the Hibbys around me, not that I am one to gloat when my fellow man is down mind, but in this instance it is allowable!

.

Dreich!

Snow, sleet and ice cold air greeted us this morning.  I longed to remain in my pit but headed instead for the museum where I had been enrolled for a clear up operation.  My associate and I successfully completed the tasks assigned us, once he had worked out what they were, and must say I enjoyed my mornings work. It did mean several trips out into the day but it also allowed me time with a humour filled, cheery knowledgeable bunch, mostly women, who do a grand job there.  It was nice to do something useful and energetic for a change.  I will feel it in the morning I suspect!  


But it was actual snow falling today!  Cold north western air bringing sleety snow all morning.  Yet when I looked at the webcam for both Edinburgh and Aberdeen I noticed while Edinburgh was merely wet, Aberdeen had light clouds with sunshine in the distance!  How come? This is not natural.  


'Dreich' 
.

The Thursday Bus

The Edinburgh Reporter

I found a book on my shelves, under several inches of dust, which detailed the history of the bus in Edinburgh. Now that's what I call a bedside book!  Even better it was full of pictures of buses, horse drawn, cable pulled, electric trams and the delightful buses Edinburgh has always been proud to use to deliver the citizens from one place to another.  Since deregulation under the Mad Cow Thatcher things have naturally been made more complicated, less service orientated and much more expensive, but what else would you expect? The book contained many pictures of the city I remember. Much has been demolished yet just as much remains unchanged, bar the increase in traffic. These evoke memories and while I am not usually one to seek photographs of buses in a manner I might use regarding steam trains I do find something attractive with those that originated in the 1930's.   

This beauty and her friends arrived in Edinburgh at the end of the war and with a subtle change of body survived into the 60's.  I do not recall seeing this type but I often used them in the new body shape.  I believe these were 'Guy Arab' buses.  Our bus, and there was only one, was a single decker with the open door at the back.  Unfortunately no picture in Edinburgh colours can be found online tonight. The conductor was a 'Pole' we were told, although he may well have been from the Baltic States, as many of these men remained safely in Scotland after the war.  Those who went home were shot by Stalin! This single decker came over the bridge up the road, collected passengers as it trundled noisily along, and after we alighted it turned a corner and parked up, a journey of ten minutes at most.  A short rest and the bus returned back from where it began, on the other side of that bridge.  I used to wonder why we got the same conductor so often, these two were the only men on the bus, and traveled up and down all day!  This lasted about two years before the service was extended.  By 1960 the journey was a wide circle tour of Edinburgh taking in a huge swathe of the city. 


'The Edinburgh Reporter,' is something I have just come across. Their story concerning the bus depot is the type of daft thing hat I would be interested in viewing, had I been in Scotia's capital.  Sadly I sit in poverty in a cold room awaiting a rainbow to arrive outside my window with a pot of gold at the bottom of it.  The only time I ever saw the bottom of a rainbow I discovered there was no pot of gold awaiting me.  Instead there was just a run down bus shelter, and that was not worth awaiting for! 


.