Just before the rain began earlier today I crossed the park and found myself tempted to sit on a bench and watch the clouds gather. This was because it was so Spring like at the time. The grass was bright green, a flock of wood pigeons happily chewed their afternoon supper ahead of me, the sun glinted on the rubbish the ignoramus's amongst us leave behind them and the few passersby almost smiled a greeting. The bench however was bespattered with an earlier rain burst so I meandered on.
I had to meander as earlier that day I had cleaned the house, dusted the bookshelves and even started again the exercise programme that usually lasts about three days. The aches in my knees helped me meander slower than usual. Little kiddies run by faces wreathed in smiles, jealousy makes me want to kick them! I can remember a time when I happily ran, well actually when I think of it running was never my style! How glad I was that I became a goalkeeper. Those people who consider running ten miles in an hour and a half fun while being kicked all over the park are clearly mentally disturbed in my view. On the occasions when running was required it was inevitable that some dork would be twice as fast and twice as determined. I was I remember quite good in the 'sack race,' a habit I took over into my working life. Cycling is better than running in every way I say. You get to where you are going normally at least three times as fast, the lack of weight bearing not only eases my knees it is more comfortable, unless you get a free narrow seat that was soon flung away, and on a quiet side road the easy travel allows enjoyment of the world around. Fields of growing crops noticed in sunshine can be so relaxing, indeed invigorating, bird song can be heard with the absence of cars, blooming flowers add to the fragrance of the world around. Just don't pass any pig farms! Hills are a bit of a problem but life gets better when you are heading on the downward slope. Now I am in the mood for the bike but nothing can be done till the morning, and then I am at the museum. I bet the day after will be full of rain. Bah!
I was going to make a note about the Picts those folks from the north east of Scotland about which so little is known. Tantalisingly they left little in the way of writing but many a decorated stone or cave offers some insight into their lives. No doubt they were left over from the Iron Age and as we all know not keen on the Romans who stupidly thought they could walk in and take over. Rome did indeed build many small forts in a line all the way to the north of Scotland, one at Cramond in Edinburgh, but could not keep them open. They say the IX Legion marched in and disappeared somewhere north of Perth but nothing has been found of them yet. The Picts, basically those living in a line north of the Firth of Forth all the way up the east coast, did little to make themselves friends with Rome. Few really know where they originated, the Iron Age life appears to be the style they lived, they hunted, were tough indeed, and by a thousand years ago had been absorbed into what is now Scotland. One in ten apparently has Picts DNA in their blood. I have Sainsbury's cheap 'Red Label' tea in mine.
The Anglo-Saxons 'Northumbria' reached all the way up the east coast of England and spread right up to the Firth of forth. They got no further than the Romans but probably like them thought it was not worth the bother. If not fighting invaders Picts possibly spent their time fighting one another. Whether they wore 'woad,' the blue paint or not is debatable but the Picts appear to have lived in small groupings with no major centres. Cereal crops, sheep, pigs and horse appear to be popular so they could well look after themselves probably in family or clan groups, much like the Gaels in Ireland and elsewhere in the west.
What language they spoke is not clear and anyone speaking to an Aberdonian today might well confuse his 'Doric' with an ancient Pictish sound, it certainly means little to me. All that "Fits fit," and "Furryboots min?" is all too much I say. The Picts left many standing stones, carved in an elaborate manner, what they mean no one knows, but that does not stop folks explaining it mind. They had their art, traded far and wide, and gained a ferocious reputation. So little is known of them that they have raised many tales, all fantasy, about their lifestyles. Even Asterix has them in his latest book! I just wonder what football team they supported.....
I was going to mention them but canny be bothered tonight as I'm falling asleep as I scrawl so I will just leave a couple of decent links regarding these folks and you can do the work yourselves.
NMS : BBC Scotland : Wiki : OrkneyJar : Pictish Stones
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