The windows being open all sorts of aroma's pass inside. Tonight I am enduring the burning of what I believe may be garden rubbish, the first of the leaves falling from the autumnal trees or that kind of garden leftovers they don't think about turning into compost. This happens annually, however I fail to see where it comes from, it arrives from the west but that way lies town centre and no-one to burn leaves. Tis mystery all.
The smell of small fires in the open long after the fire has been ditched and left to burn out has been with me for many years. I can remember the strong aroma when an uncle was clearing leaves in his garden way back when, and more so when on the rare occasions we went under the bridge taking the railway from Granton harbour into town and stalked Granton Beach, a beach which some refer to as 'Wardie Beach' but we never did.
Here there was always at least one charcoaled set of embers to be found, the bouquet hanging in the still air, well, air as still as possible on that beach. The beach was not great, many stones and too little sand, this hemmed in by the high ban, now removed, carrying the railway by. The condition was not supreme, it was always somewhat dingy, this being the result of the Firth of Forth being a heavily used stretch of water in those days far off.
In the far distance jutting out into the gray sea lies Newhaven Harbour, then full of fishing boats right up until the 1960's when they began to be replaced with rich men's playthings. That is all that remains today. On both sides of the Forth lay fishing harbours full of men risking their lives night after night, the 'silver darlings' have long disappeared and the cod and haddock dwindling but most boats today are smaller craft looking for the Lobster pots dumped out at sea the night before.
At the time the picture was taken early in the 20th century the Royal Navy based half the Fleet at Rosyth and when my dad was growing up he could see such a collection of blue gray ships heading out to sea, Battle-cruisers, Cruisers, frigates, Destroyers and smaller ships abounding following them out. Add to this the steamers from all over the world landing a variety of goods at Granton as opposed to the larger harbour the other side of Newhaven at Leith.
The condition of the water may not always have been that clean as far as I can see but people spent time there and made the most of it. Today, with the railway removed the area is cleaner, grass is planted in the rear, the space open and the sea cleaner as less ships pass by, a few large tankers and many small pleasure craft.
The harbour behind has changed with one half being filled in and now crowned with large glass fronted blocks of flats with magnificent views and prices to match. No more steam trains chugging past, fewer foul mouthed sailors, and one time warehouse or marine offices and lighthouses now turned into dwellings.
However I bet people still build fires from driftwood, attempt to cook potatoes, and burn their fingers while eating them leaving the hazy smoke and its aroma to drift across the old breakwater and the new residences with the same freedom it has always enjoyed.
After months of procrastination I managed to make a start - again - on fixing the slats on the cupboard door. This time armed with cheap wood glue I slotted the slats and gunked the ends only to find the last attempt left the gap a wee bit too wide and they fit but only just. Still I put my handyman skills to the proof and remembered again why I failed technical subjects at school all those long years away.
After many rude words I managed to fit the top half so as though it looks fixed. Anyone who opens their eyes, or I fear opens the door, will soon discover a weakness or two. I expect next time I touch the door to be back at the starting gate.
This little job held me back long enough to prevent me reaching the shops when they were quiet. So this afternoon I walked among the living dead around Sainsburys wondering why I bothered. I only had to shoot two customers and one was driving a black van when he attempted to run me over. I lacked suitable pity for him at the time. What is it about supermarkets that make people girn so badly? Normally I am in early so I miss the crowds but the rest of the day in such a place is a wonderful way to practice patience.
When I first graced this world the family lived in a tenement in Granton. For the first three years of my life, little of which I recall, we lived a short walk up the road from the harbour pictured here. This photo was taken in 1958 it says and I can recall going down there with dad to look at this rig sitting in the far side of the harbour. I had no idea what it was for until today when I found this picture on facebook and discovered it was used to search for coal under the Forth. It is different from what memory recalls so this may be a different rig or my memory may falter but the era is about right.
The view north over the Forth is fantastic, one of the great memories of Edinburgh. To the north lies the Forth and Fife opposite, the view to the south reveal the Pentland hills and for a major city the escape to the countryside is remarkably easy. How I missed that in London!
The building on the right was at first a Hotel but for most of the 20th century, and possibly still, it was a land ship for the Royal Navy. The large ships in the harbour also stopped in a similar spot to the left of the picture, a harbour soon afterwards filled in for industrial buildings. To the left there was a small school house that my dad attended. Two doors, one marked 'Girls' and at the other end 'Boys' and quite rightly too, but last time I was in that area the only possibly building had boarding around it advertising the company I could not determine if the school still existed. At the entrance the road to the left led along to the promenade where relaxation and sea watching took place. To the right we could eventually reach Leith. A high embankment carried a railway into town, a railway that closed around 1962, and the embankment has long since gone also. Behind the embankment lay a small beach and on any occasion I wandered down there I was struck by the smell of fire. It was the done thing then when at the seaside to gather driftwood and build a fire, even in summer, the smell lingered forever afterwards. The road on either side near the camera rises upwards as you will realise Edinburgh slopes down to the sea, sometimes we fall in.
A more recent picture nicked ungraciously from facebook shows a more modern image. The view has been devastated by the ugly new blocks of flats that take so much money from young trendy people, and to the left there are many more such buildings. Those with a clear view up or down the Firth of Forth will have a fantastic sight before their eyes, not too sure what the others will see mind.
The ships have long gone, even Leith harbour appears to be struggling with such reconstruction these days, and at Granton I think only rich folks yachts can be found today. There have long been such yachts but the actual Yacht Club has sold its premises and moved elsewhere or died.
As always some things remain, the toilet block stands as always, the buses halt here before trudging back across Edinburgh, and people still climb the stairs grumbling at the effort.
Is this an improvement? Is it progress? Is it the passage of time?
Life goes on and we cannot stop it.
Here in the soft south I spend a lot of time looking at old pictures and comparing them with the reality today. On the local facebook page old pics are offered and people reminisce about their childhood and youth, always claiming "it was better then." No it wasn't really, even if the fifties were better in many ways for kids in the end the 'good old days' are always in our minds.
1958 was good in many ways for me but there were fears and problems also. For a start we had school and that was not my favourite place. The fears and problems of childhood disappear and we forget the bad things that caused us worry then, the fears can be worse now of course, but
we were lucky to be living in an era of peace and even prosperity, a time such as my folks had never known before. We moved into a three bedroom place, bathroom and kitchen, dad got a better job, and we got a TV. How the world changed then!
There are good memories in the past but in three quarters of the world war was raging and millions died. The 'Good old days' are always in our heads, nowhere else.
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
