Trundling out to exercise my knees I wandered down the path usually occupied early in the morning by folks walking their dogs. Being late afternoon the women were busy in the kitchens preparing their man's dinner which is what they were made for! This meant I could enjoy the bright sunshine, the warm air, and the raging waterfall I found there. What a lovely spot, especially when the dog walkers were absent and the neds who leave their 'Carlsberg' cans on the waterfall have as yet not arrived. This once was a delightful wooded spot lying just under the hill on which the farmhouse stands. In the 1850's the railway built the embankment that lies just behind the photographer but even this does not detract from the site itself, in fact in may enhance it. However as the town has moved outwards the youth has followed on. Kids of adolescent age use the slope of the embankment as a slide and their older brothers meet to share a can of beer to prove they are men at last. How many fall in while being macho I have failed to ascertain, although I would enjoy a photograph of such!
And look! A brick bridge! How wonderful! I wonder had we got aerosol spray paint when young would we have scribbled our names on rail bridges? I suspect we would but the only such vandalism I can recall came when I was in my late teens, and that referred to gang names. There were certainly lots of such scrawls in Glasgow when we visited but in was only around 1970 they began to appear in Edinburgh. I fear we would have followed the crowd had it arrived earlier however. I prefer the bridge with just brick rather than someones initials.
In fact I am now convinced we would have vandalised with the rest. This door is found at the back to door to the 'stair' in which we lived. The initials dug into the door began with the 'Teddy Boy' neighbours (and my brother) in the fifties and have been continued since. I suspect this door has now been replaced with 'modern improvements' but you never know. Graffiti has always been important to people. Armies marching through the Cilician Gates near Tarsus (in Turkey) left their mark on the walls. Greeks, Egyptian, Hittite and all put their mark, and those who could write left a statement of their intent as they passed. Sadly I understand the motorway construction of the eighties destroyed the ancient gates! My dad once admitted that he and his mates had done the same to Stonehenge. Tsk! The druids will not be pleased.
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