Brechin Town House Museum

Scotland officially has eight cities. My home town of Dunfermline received the royal charter last year. There is no agreed definition of what constitutes a city. One theory says a cathedral must be present. If you go down that route, the unexpected name of Brechin creeps on to the list. Moreover, the local football team is named Brechin City. It was to this small Angus settlement (population 7000) I headed on a Friday afternoon while Nicole had a session at Abertay University in Dundee. I dropped her off and drove the 25 miles up the A90 to the quirky cathedral city, set within prime agricultural territory.

A few months ago, I wrote a blog post about a walk along the old Brechin railway. The iron road was also the reason for today's visit, although it would be an indoor activity. The Town House Museum was hosting an exhibition about the development and closure of railways in the county. The new transport system connected Angus to the rest of the country and transformed the local economy as vast quantities of produce could be quickly transported to markets far and wide. The museum is located within a historic municipal building built in 1790. Entrance is free and the ground floor covers the history of the town/city. Upstairs is an art gallery and a room for special exhibitions. Opening hours at the time of writing are 1100 - 1600, Thursday to Monday. The modern East Coast Main Line runs along the Angus coast from Dundee to Montrose. A few decades ago however, a network of inland routes criss-crossed the county, all of which were deemed uneconomical by British Railways in the post-war era and along came Dr Richard Beeching with his infamous axe. Brechin Station is still extant and I parked near this attractive Victorian terminus, built by the Aberdeen Railway company in 1848. Closed to passenger traffic in 1952, it serves today as the base for a heritage railway that has been running steam trains to Bridge of Dun - four miles away - since 1993. My dad and I did this tour around 10 years ago. The heritage operation trades as the Caledonian Railway - a nod to the company who controlled many routes in Angus and indeed Scotland, prior to grouping in 1923, at which point it was absorbed into the London, Midland and Scottish Railway. Nationalisation followed in 1948. I entered the museum and proceeded directly to the railway display, passing a set of wall-mounted Pictish stones as I climbed the stairs. Probably the best place to start when considering the lost railways of Angus is the situation in Forfar. The county town was a transport hub and - even as late as the 1950s - a whopping 80 members of staff were associated with the station. A high-speed Caledonian line ran from Stanley Junction near Perth, through Forfar and on to Kinnaber Junction just north of Montrose, where the line converged with the coastal route, originally built by the North British Company after the opening of the Forth and Tay bridges. Kinnaber can be considered the meeting point of the east and west trunk routes from London. One set of tracks proceeded from here to Aberdeen. In 1895, two locomotives left the English capital in a "race to the north" - an event that aroused great public interest. The train running up the western side of the country reached Kinnaber first to claim the prize. Unbelievably, the old Caley route was closed in 1967 and the grand Forfar Station was no more, although the goods yard remained connected to Perth until 1982. Nothing remains of the station infrastructure today. Until fairly recently, football fans heading to Station Park - home of Forfar Athletic - had to pass through a short tunnel below part of the old platforms but that too has been demolished. Forfar was also connected to Dundee by a direct line that opened in 1870 and replaced more circuitous options via Arbroath or Newtyle. Competition from local bus services and the increasing popularity of the motor car led to passenger services being withdrawn in 1955. Goods traffic ceased in 1967 and another line to Forfar was lost. A branch to Kirriemuir followed a similar pattern of closure. Other casualties were the local lines that split off the trunk route to connect Forfar to Brechin and Arbroath.

Bridge of Dun was the site of a junction that fed a branch line from the Caledonian tracks towards Brechin. This is the stretch currently used by the heritage railway and good views of the stations at each end can be had from nearby road overbridges. Passenger trains stopped running in 1952 but a freight link was in existence until 1981. Had this line (and the Forfar goods stub) managed to cling on until the end of the decade, they might have been saved as railways became important political tools. Fate conspired otherwise and the last remaining portion of the old main line was lifted, leaving the heritage crew in charge of an isolated piece of track. They had negotiated a swift purchase and trains were permitted to run within the Brechin station limits until a Light Railway Order was obtained for the full stretch. Brechin also had a branch line running north to the village of Edzell. It diverged from the railway that ran along to Forfar. Edzell was a popular holiday destination in the early 1900s but passenger services were withdrawn as early as 1931. Goods traffic to the military base continued until 1964. Over on the coast, Arbroath is served by the East Coast Main Line but a link to Forfar was built as early as 1838. Some of the track was subsequently taken over by the Perth to Kinnaber main route, illustrating the jostling that took place between the various private companies that established our national rail network. Guthrie was the point where the new express line diverged from the original Forfar to Arbroath run. The portion from Guthrie to Arbroath closed to passengers and freight in 1955. The city of Dundee is historically part of Angus County (sometimes known as Forfarshire) but today's exhibition focussed primarily on lines that traversed the modern Angus Council Area. There was little mention of railway infrastructure within the Dundee municipal boundaries. But that's a minor quibble. The real oversight was the lack of a large map showing how the Angus lines were interconnected. Each featured route had a text panel with useful information about the construction process, type of traffic carried and the eventual closure (where appropriate) but you would have to be over 70 years old to have a vivid memory of the old network. A handful of geeks like yours truly spend hours studying the topography of long-gone railways but most people visiting the exhibition would not have been able to mentally picture the extent of the coverage. There was a wonderful diagram of Forfar Station (pictured below) but a county-wide basic schematic would have been a useful addition.

There were several examples of old promotional literature, including a leaflet produced by the Brechin heritage railway before websites conveyed this sort of information. The Beeching era was handled fairly. It's easy to think of the 1960s as a period of sheer butchery but the railways were losing money hand over fist and the decaying network still relied heavily on steam. Millions had been squandered building enormous freight marshalling yards in the post-war years, at a time when road haulage was already taking a lot of business away from the railways. Something had to give and Beeching himself was merely the hatchet man hired to do the dirty work. You could certainly argue he went too far and some of the closures should never have been sanctioned, such as the Forfar trunk route. It's interesting to note that Labour came to power before many of the lines slated for closure were actually decommissioned. The new government made virtually no attempt to halt the process. Due to my long-standing interest in Scottish railways, I was already familiar with the geography covered by the exhibition. One thing I hadn't heard of was the disaster at Elliot Junction Station, north of Carnoustie on the coastal main line. It was here the Carmyllie Railway diverged inland. Originally built in 1855 to transport quarried stone, the line carried passengers between 1900 and 1929 under the terms of the Light Railways Act. This allowed simplified low-cost lines to be authorised without the lengthy process of obtaining an official Act of Parliament. The accident occurred on the main line. In 1906, a stationary local Arbroath to Dundee passenger train was struck from behind by a southbound express during a horrendous blizzard. Three coaches of the smaller train were wrecked, as was the leading carriage of the fast service, whose driver (Gourlay) was pulled out uninjured from underneath a pile of coal that had fallen on top of him. However his fireman was dead, as were 21 passengers. Gourlay was blamed for the crash as he had been advised to proceed with caution - slowing down at all stations - and not rely blindly upon the signalling system during the adverse weather. The Carmyllie Railway closed to freight in 1965 and a factory stub by the main line existed until 1984.

From the railway gallery, I wandered through to the display of paintings in the adjacent upstairs room. The artwork was by Brechin native David Waterson (1870 - 1954) who lived in the town for most of his life. A prolific artist, Waterson painted with oils and watercolours. He also created etchings and dabbled in photography. After training at Edinburgh School of Art, Waterson's work was exhibited in London, Dresden and Paris. He gained substantial interest from collectors and could count King Gustav of Sweden among his admirers. A bright feature seemed assured. Unfortunately the big breakthrough never came and Waterson's career didn't live up to its early promise. He remained popular locally and the museum showcased a range of his paintings depicting Brechin and the Angus countryside. I particularly liked the image of Edzell Castle (shown above). I proceeded downstairs to learn about the history of Brechin itself. The Town House was constructed around 1790. Originally it contained the courtroom and jail at ground level, with the Council Chambers on the upper floor. The custodial facilities were described in 1819 as being "tolerably decent" for debtors but criminals were confined to "two wretched dirty cells". By 1844, a new jail had been built elsewhere in the town and the aforementioned criminal accommodation was converted to police offices. At the turn of the 20th century, local administration moved out and the Town House became a retail unit. The museum has occupied the premises since 2003. Religion played an important role in the development of Brechin and the A-listed cathedral dates from the 13th century. The adjacent round tower is even older and almost unique in Scotland, the only other example being located in Abernethy, Perthshire. The cathedral's future as a working church is uncertain. Dwindling congregation numbers caused a cessation of services in 2021 and the church authorities are exploring different options for the building's future. At the moment, the Society of Friends of Brechin Cathedral - a local community group - is managing the church on a one-year deal. The town was granted the right to hold a weekly market in 1150 by King David I. There was a flourishing trade in wool, hides and sheep fleeces but Brechin's success prompted the neighbouring Royal Burghs of Montrose and Forfar to lodge objections. Official Burgh status was finally conferred upon Brechin in 1451, cementing its right to trade.

The museum contained a mock-up of the cathedral scriptorium, showing a monk hard at work writing and illustrating manuscripts. In an age when few people could read and write, the production of documents was a highly respected art. In the 1980s, a sheet of 13th-century music was discovered during the conservation of a book published in 1660. The score had been incorporated into the binding, under the leather cover, with holes cut out for metal buckles. A more sombre display was the reconstruction of the "black hole" - a notorious prison cell. The shackled figure of John Gall sat inside. Born in Brechin in 1803, he was employed as a cattleman and was a popular figure in the town. Married with four children, he was convicted in of rustling in 1827 and sentenced to transportation, following his trial in Aberdeen. Placed on a prison hulk bound for Tasmania, little more was heard of him until 1837, when he petitioned the governor for permission to marry Ann Radford. His life then took a normal law-abiding course, as attested by the many Australian descendants of the couple. His Scottish family survived the trauma of the events and several people here have identified Gall as an ancestor. The museum speculated that Gall - previously a man of good character - may have been driven by desperation as the winter of 1827 was particularly harsh and a disastrous spring followed. Moving forward a century, I was drawn to the displays on Sir Robert Watson-Watt, a Brechin native who pioneered radar systems in the 1930s. Despite having a keen interest in WW2, I had no idea that one of the most important technical advances of the conflict had been developed by a Scotsman. We do seem to punch above our weight in the invention stakes. In 1935, Watson-Watt (a descendant of steam engineer James Watt) was appointed director of the British National Physical Laboratory. It was here he worked on a system named Radio Detection and Ranging - subsequently shortened to RADAR - which became a vital defence mechanism enabling enemy aircraft to be identified in flight. A chain of radar posts on the east and south coasts was already in place when war broke out and the technology became standard kit on British ships and aircraft. Watson-Watt was dispatched to America as an advisor and there is no doubt he contributed greatly to the overall war effort. In recognition of his genius, the British government awarded him the sum of £50,000. Bizarrely, the general public wasn't aware of Watson-Watt's achievements until 1971, when the information was declassified. He spent his later years in Canada where he was caught speeding by local traffic cops wielding a radar gun. He quipped "if I knew what you were going to do with it, I'd never have invented it!"

I browsed the diverse range of objects in the other display cases, noting a pewter beggar's badge and the rather gruesome instrument of torture known as the branks (pictured left). Women accused of witchcraft were forcibly led around town wearing this device. Although Brechin had built its economic success upon fertile farmland, the industrial revolution introduced linen and paper to the mix. There was also a tobacco works. Bonnie Prince Charlie never visited Brechin but part of his army passed through the town in 1746 after the disastrous defeat at Culloden. A century earlier, military personnel from both sides were present in Brechin during the war between royalists and covenantors. The towns location between the Highlands and Lowlands gave it a strategical importance. Further back, King John Balliol was forced to surrender his crown to Edward I of England at Brechin Castle. It is said the Great Seal of Scotland was destroyed within the castle walls. A display of medieval weaponry introduced me to the calthrop. Often scattered on battlefields, they were designed so that one of the four spikes always faced upwards. Cavalry horses could be lamed if they stepped on this early form of landmine. The things that humans invent! I found the whole museum very interesting and purchased a couple of souvenirs before I left. To my utter dismay, I learned the Town House was set to close towards the end of the year. I looked around online and discovered that the Angus Alive Trust - who are tasked with operating cultural venues around the county - have decided to relinquish the lease on the property. Budget constraints immediately spring to mind but there are suggestions the opening hours were deliberately pared back after the pandemic to engineer a reduction in footfall, then use this as a justification for closure. Ironically the main reason for my visit had been the railway exhibition and exactly the same accusations were levelled at British Rail back in the 60s. Make the timetables unattractive, then say the service is not worth keeping because nobody is using it. I emailed an independent councillor quoted in a local newspaper article and she informed me an organisation known as the Friends of Brechin Town House are investigating the feasibility of taking over the running of the museum. Let's hope a solution can be found.

London Calling (again)

Last summer I had an excellent time in London, combining two of my favourite activities - walking and museum visits. I covered around 17 miles of the Thames Path over four days, progressing downstream from Putney Bridge to the flood barrier near Woolwich (the official end of the trail). Most of my walking took place late afternoon and early evening as I explored the major national museums and galleries during the day. It was a packed schedule and there was very little opportunity to sit down and relax. This year I decided to head back down for more of the same, but with a less-crowded itinerary.

I planned a four-night stay during the first week of my summer holidays and once again booked train tickets with Lumo - an open access operator that runs its own fleet between Edinburgh Waverley and London King's Cross. Tickets are valid only for your chosen Lumo services and a return deal can be found for £100 or less. The business model has proved highly popular and has captured a share of the domestic aviation market, which fits the climate agenda. I now had to find accommodation and would happily have returned to the hostel I used last year. Unfortunately it was fully booked but I found an alternative facility a couple of streets away. As you would expect, hotel rooms in central London are very pricey. Booking a dormitory bed when travelling solo cuts your costs drastically. The location near Waterloo Station (Britain's busiest) was perfect as two of my walking stages were beyond the tube network and I would have to return via regular rail. As previously stated, the waymarked Thames Path ends at the flood barrier but it is possible to continue along the bank for another 10 miles as far as the Kent marshes. This stretch becomes increasingly industrial, which underlines the working nature of the river. Since tourist sights are few and far between out here, I opted instead to follow the Thames upstream from Putney Bridge, where my walk began last year. The train journey south proceeded without a hitch at I rolled into King's Cross at the stated arrival time of 1545. I located the water machine (walking around London at the height of summer is thirsty work) and was confronted by a fast-food style terminal, offering all sorts of fancy chilled and fizzy options. I navigated towards the unfiltered tap water option, the only free one. Yards away, a queue of Harry Potter fans snaked around a barrier, waiting to have their photo taken next to the iconic luggage trolley embedded in the wall of Platform nine and three quarters. A fee applied, obviously. London has no single main station. Instead a ring of termini were erected around the business district by various railway companies in Victorian times. All services from Edinburgh arrive at King's Cross and the station - originally opened in 1852 - has been greatly improved since 2007. The huge train shed was reglazed and the 1972 front extension torn down to create an open-air plaza, thankfully exposing the original Victorian façade that had been partially obscured.

Additionally, a spectacular departures hall has been created by installing a curving architectural masterpiece on the western side. 16 steel columns radiate from a tapered central funnel and the project created the largest single-span station structure in Europe. Light floods in through the triangular glass panels overhead and the new space merges seamlessly with the original brickwork. Aesthetics aside, the redevelopment also improved access to the underground and suburban lines. Upgrading the station was part of a plan to regenerate the surrounding area, bringing disused industrial lands back into community use and creating new public parks, housing, retail and leisure options, all centred around the Regent's Canal. I think it's fair to say the old King's Cross was not a particularly salubrious part of London and I planned to explore some of the development before I boarded my train home. For now, the intention was to walk the couple of miles down to Trafalgar Square. Unfortunately it was raining and I had to bide my time until it eased. Half an hour later, I set off along Euston Road, past the imposing red-brick St Pancras Station, given a new lease of life in the early 2000s when it was chosen as the terminus for high-speed Eurostar services. I then encountered the sad sight of Euston Station. It remains a hive of railway activity (the iconic arch was demolished in 1962), being the end point of the West Coast Main Line. The problem with Euston today is that the whole area resembles a building site, due to clearance works in preparation for the coming of HS2. Ah yes, the new super-fast link to the north that is becoming a political millstone. A detailed analysis of the current state of play is miles beyond the scope of this blog entry but, although HS2 construction is well underway in the hinterland, progress on the crucial and highly expensive (long tunnels being required) final stretch towards the middle of London has been shelved for now. Instead, southbound trains will proceed no further than Old Oak Common, five miles short of Euston. Yes, this does provide a connection to the lauded Elizabeth Line (formerly known as Crossrail), but Old Oak Common is simply too small to serve as a permanent terminus for such a vital transport corridor. Rumours persist that HS2 will never reach Euston, which means we would be stuck with a line that ran from large cities in the north to the mere fringes of the capital. A situation replicated nowhere else in the world and completely at odds with the original aims of the project. A right royal mess!

Anyway, I crossed Euston Road and headed down Tottenham Court Road, catching sight of the famous Post Office Tower. Upon reaching the intersection with Oxford Street, I branched through Soho Square and walked by the legendary Ronnie Scott's jazz club. A few minutes later I was in Chinatown. You could easily spend a lot of money here but I noted a couple of buffets priced at less than £20 (including a drink). A few steps took me into the pedestrianised Leicester Square, home to the largest cinemas in the country, where major releases are often premiered. Various statues of popular fictional characters are positioned in the public gardens and you might find yourself having a sandwich next to Paddington Bear or Mr Bean. I cut across to Charing Cross Road - famous for literary retailing - and popped into a second-hand emporium called Any Amount of Books. The shop stocks everything from £2.50 paperbacks to antique volumes, over two levels. I picked up a Welsh crime thriller to read during my stay. I couldn't possibly walk out the door empty handed. We should all pitch in to keep these places alive. Down at Trafalgar Square, I hastily ate some goodies from Tesco before dashing along to Charing Cross underground station. The rain was coming back on and my accommodation was on the other side of the river. It was a short walk from Lambeth North to the Steam Engine hostel and I fished my poncho out of my rucksack as I braved the downpour. I checked in and headed to my dormitory, above the pub on the ground floor. Central London hostels are really just a place for getting your head down and facilities are usually quite basic. However the Steam Engine was clean and comfortable. The bunk beds were (unusually) stacked three high and partitioned into different areas. I had a middle slot and could almost reach out to touch the window. At least I had a well ventilated spot and each berth had two power sockets and a wooden screen on one side. Showers were hot and the hostel was perfectly adequate. Fast wi-fi too. There was no communal kitchen but food was served around the clock in the bar. I was under no pressure to get up early the next day as I had a 10am booking at the National Portrait Gallery and would be able to walk there in 20 minutes. I had brought my own breakfast bars and supplemented them with bananas. I took a dog-legged route across Waterloo Bridge and along the Strand, one of several well-known streets that leads to Trafalgar Square. I stopped for a look at the grand Savoy Hotel. The Portrait Gallery stands adjacent to the National Gallery and had only recently reopened following a three-year period of refurbishment, costing £40 million. In my opinion, they couldn't have chosen a better special exhibition to help launch the upgraded complex. The perfect start to my schedule.

Eyes of the Storm (1963-64) is a selection of photographs taken by Paul McCartney as the Beatles were breaking big across the world. Revealed for the first time, Macca took the images using his own camera and they offer an insight to the growing phenomena of Beatlemania. None of the pictures have been cropped or otherwise altered from their original form. The band was transitioning from playing UK theatres to appearing on prime-time American TV shows and embarking upon their first international tours. The Fab Four rapidly reached the stage where they were followed everywhere they went, but McCartney's collection depicts a more intimate side of life on the road, often relaxing backstage, in aeroplanes and hotel rooms. There were also a few shots of the Beatles performing, taken with McCartney's camera by a member of the stage crew. In many instances, it was obvious that the photos hadn't been composed by a seasoned professional but it added to the charm. Besides, Macca did have a genuine interest in photography and strove to improve his technique. The image shown above was actually taken by Mike McCartney, younger brother of Paul, who went on to carve out a career as a professional photographer, after a few novelty hits with a comedy group known as The Scaffold. This photo was one of the few on display not captured with Paul's apparatus. An information panel explained that over 1000 pictures were rediscovered in 2020, having been buried for decades in Paul McCartney's personal archive. They reflect the intensity of touring and the long days that ensue. The lives of McCartney, John Lennon, George Harrison and Ringo Starr (Richard Starkey) were changing irrevocably. The entrance ticket had cost £22 but already I was sensing this would be a rewarding experience. The first gallery showed scenes from the extensive 1963 gigging schedule that traversed the entire island from Elgin to Brighton. Several of the images featured the various support acts. In between the endless blocks of dates, the Beatles also found the time to record TV and radio shows. It must have been a non-stop whirlwind. But as McCartney was quoted, the success didn't come out of nowhere. It was a trajectory that grew over time.

The photos used in the exhibition were created - where possible - from the original negatives. Some material had to be fashioned from contact sheets, and often bore an x in the top corner, indicating that McCartney had selected the image for printing back in the day. Anyone who owned a camera in the 20th century will be very familiar with the above terms. Now that we have smartphones in our pockets, capable of capturing highly detailed pictures, it's easy to forget we were previously restricted to 24 or 36 photos per roll of film. There was no way of knowing how a shot had turned out until the photos were actually processed. Basically, you clicked and hoped. You certainly didn't waste time on frivolous snaps. It seems like a different universe! A film cartridge cost a few pounds and you spent a few more to have the pictures produced. If you had regular access to a city centre, you could hand in your films for same-day developing. Otherwise, the local chemist offered a collection service with a weekly uplift and delivery. Or you could send your efforts off in the post with the remittance. Young people today will have no concept of what I have just described. I mentioned a contact sheet. This was a way of representing all 24/36 images in reduced form on one piece of paper. You could then choose which ones to have developed. It's worth remembering that digital didn't replace film overnight. There was a period of a few years when professional photographers stuck resolutely with the old technology as early digital cameras simply couldn't match the resolution of film. Of course, as the playing field was levelled, the ease of transmitting and editing digital images accelerated the growth of the new method. The Beatles were true innovators in the emerging art form of popular music. Fuelled by the song writing creativity of Lennon and McCartney, the band penned their own material, almost unheard of at the time. Manager Brian Epstein (1934 -1967) was sometimes regarded as the "fifth Beatle" but - while he certainly played a key role in the band's success - a more deserving recipient of this title is producer George Martin (1926 - 2016), who oversaw every recording session as the lads conquered the world. Fittingly, both men appeared several times in the exhibition. Other notable faces were Lennon's first wife Cynthia, McCartney's girlfriend of the time, Jane Asher, plus assorted members of the Beatle families.

The next gallery took us to Paris at the beginning of 1964. The Beatles had multiple shows booked at the Olympia Theatre over 18 days. It was during this period the telegram arrived from the United States, informing the band that I Want To Hold Your Hand had reached number 1 across the Atlantic. Pandora's box had now been prised open. The room display featured a few images taken by outside photographers, such as the promotional group shot for the Parisian shows (Astrid Kirchher), the staged hotel room pillow fight (Harry Benson) and the cover of With the Beatles (Bob Freeman). The band flew to New York in February 1964. Their schedule would also take them to Washington DC and Miami. A video screen in the gallery showed footage of the chaotic but humorous press conference at JFK Airport. The quick-witted Scouse responses helped break the ice. A trio of appearances on the Ed Sullivan Show had been booked and the first broadcast attracted a record 73 million viewers. Manager Brian Epstein had negotiated a deal with Sullivan whereby the Beatles would appear for a minimal fee, in return for the privilege of opening and closing the proceedings. Maximum exposure was the strategy and the trip paid off in spades. To this day, many American musicians say they were inspired to pick up an instrument after witnessing Beatlemania in their childhood home. The Ed Sullivan Show was a family-friendly variety offering with a prime-time Sunday evening slot. After concerts at Washington Coliseum and New York's prestigious Carnegie Hall, the Beatle's second appearance on US television was filmed in sun-drenched Miami, Florida. Following this performance, a rare few days off were granted and McCartney shot rolls of colour film as the band and their entourage relaxed by the pool and toured the city. They even met Muhammed Ali (then known as Cassius Clay), who was preparing for his first world title bout against Sonny Liston. A famous photo was arranged where the four band members pretend to fall like dominoes as Clay threw a mock punch. As a long-time Beatles fan, it was a fabulously immersive experience to browse the various rooms. Worth every penny. Only Paul and Ringo are still with us. Both Knights of the Realm, and deservedly so. McCartney has never stopped playing and last summer his headlining appearance at Glastonbury was a joy to behold. Aged 80, yet effortlessly switching between guitar, bass and piano, he held the nation spellbound. For over 30 years, Ringo has toured with his All-Starr band which - as the name suggests - features a revolving cast of top musicians. They remain a huge live attraction.

And so to the rest of the Portrait Gallery. General admission is free and the building was predictably very busy. Having visited the Scottish National Portrait Gallery several times, I had long wanted to see the London counterpart. After exiting the gift shop for the McCartney exhibition, I emerged in a hall dedicated to contemporary subjects. I viewed paintings of Andy Murray, Ed Sheerin (pictured), Glastonbury supremo Michael Eavis, footballers Marcus Rashford and Lucy Bronze, and, His Majesty The King. Most of the artwork was to be found on the upper levels and I climbed the stairs to the top floor and strolled into the Tudor Gallery. This dynasty ruled England from 1485 until 1603, at which point the Union of the Crowns established the House of Stuart. I saw a couple of portraits of Richard III (neither painted in his lifetime) but by far the most famous Tudor monarch is Henry VIII. Various fates befell his six wives, not all of whom were on display. Henry's split from the Catholic Church in Rome changed the path of English history forever and granted the monarch great personal power. He was succeeded by his son Edward VI, who died at the age of 15. This caused a power vacuum and following a disputed blink and you'll miss it reign by Lady Jane Grey, the crown passed to Henry's daughter Mary, also known as Mary Tudor and Bloody Mary. She died childless and her half sister reigned as Elizabeth the First, who turned out to be the final Tudor monarch. Her nickname of the Virgin Queen may provide a clue as to why the Tudor line ended here. I worked my way back down to ground level, viewing the portraits of later royal houses. Perhaps my favourite room was the 20th-century gallery, featuring a vast array of characters from diverse walks of life. I recognised many faces and this always makes the experience more engaging. By this time it was after 2pm and I had worked up a fair appetite. I decided to take a short wander from Trafalgar Square along Pall Mall. I passed through St James's Square, with the statue of William III on horseback standing in the centre of the gardens. I came across a memorial to WPC Yvonne Fletcher, who was fatally wounded by a shot fired from the Libyan embassy during a demonstration on the streets outside. The fallout was immense. After Fletcher’s murder, the embassy was besieged for eleven days and those inside were expelled from the country. The UK also severed all diplomatic ties with Libya. However, in spite of a police investigation that lasted until 2017, nobody has ever been formally convicted of the murder. Walking around London always results in a history lesson. Passing the gates of St James's Palace, built in the 1530s and still used as a royal residence today, I branched up to Piccadilly and spotted the luxury Ritz Hotel. Afternoon tea is priced from £72 (with a service charge on top) and that was slightly beyond my daily food budget.

Instead I headed back towards Chinatown in search of some bargain nosh. My route took me by Piccadilly Circus - a busy confluence of roads which functions as a meeting place and is famous in its own right. Neon signs flash and the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain stands in the centre of all the chaos, surmounted by a winged statue of Eros. A location worth checking out - if only once. Coventry Street took me back to Leicester Square. I was ticking off the Monopoly Board streets at a heady rate! In truth, the tourist shops around here are on the tacky side, with vast displays of cheap souvenirs, probably all made in China. Wardour Street connects Leicester Square to Chinatown and it is here you can find Mr Wu's buffet. Cheap and cheerful, you can sit down for £10 per head (excluding drinks) or fill a takeaway box for a mere fiver. I took the latter option and squeezed in as much as I could, before heading along to Leicester Square for a seat. These prices are bargain basement for London and - as you might expect - the choice at the buffet counter is limited. However it's more than adequate for a pit stop. Strictly cash only, something of a rarity in big cities these days. Mr Wu - we salute you! I walked over to the tube station to catch a ride out to Putney Bridge. In case you had forgotten, I still had a major walk to do. I had familiarised myself last year with the procedure of tapping in and out of the underground. You touch your bank card against the electronic reader and the gate springs open. The system automatically tracks your journey and deducts the correct fare (the network is divided into rippling zones). I was travelling from Zone 1 to Zone 2 and an off-peak single for this trip costs just £2.80. There is also a daily cap, meaning you can run around all day and your bill cannot rise above the £8 ceiling for Zone 1 (slightly more for the outer zones). At Putney Bridge, I had to cross the river in order to pick up the Thames Path. I had 8.5 miles ahead of me and the weather had brightened up. The end point would be the riverside town of Richmond. The original intention had been to walk around 5 miles each day but I tweaked the figures to give me an easier second day, when I had two large museums to visit. The path is well signposted throughout and I proceeded towards the riverbank, when I noticed a man kneeling down beside a parked car. Glancing in his direction, I saw he was observing an urban fox at close quarters. Straight away, I could tell the animal was elderly and I took a few photos with my phone. I hadn't expected a close encounter with wildlife so early on the trail. The fox looked rather doleful and stood quietly and motionless. I should imagine in a city environment they scavenge for food and hopefully a few kindly locals would throw the old guy a morsel or two. I was soon following the river upstream and the map told me I simply had to stick to the water's edge all the way. Well, that was the theory.

The frequency of bridges across the Thames thins out as you leave the middle of London behind. The next crossing lay a mile and a half away and from that point I would encounter just two road and two rail bridges before I reached Richmond. I passed a sports complex and across the Thames stood Craven Cottage, home of Fulham Football Club, right on the water. The team currently compete in the Premiership and finished in tenth position last year. I walked by the London Wetlands Centre but couldn't see into the nature haven due to the screen of trees. I had considered a visit while planning my walking stages but the hefty price tag of £15.50 dissuaded me, plus I'd need to spend a few hours there (which I didn't have) to do the place justice. The 105-acre site contains lakes, pools and meadows and was fashioned from four disused Victorian reservoirs upon land enclosed by a river meander. It must offer a great opportunity for local children to learn about wildlife in an urban stronghold but with a family ticket priced at over £40, the reserve is probably outwith the reach of poorer residents. A prominent landmark on my side of the river was the Harrods Depository, formerly a storage centre for the posh department store but now converted to high-end apartments (the building still bears the Harrods name prominently). I continued below Hammersmith Bridge and soon approached the town of Barnes. This stretch of the Thames hosts the annual university boat race between Oxford and Cambridge. I saw many Canada geese on the river. An introduced species from North America, as the name would suggest, the goose has a distinctive white throat that looks like a stripe around the black head and neck. It has successfully spread throughout the UK and I had seen them many times in Scotland. A far more surprising sighting was an Egyptian goose, waddling right in front of me on the waterside path. I had previously seen this curious bird in Germany, but not - to the best of my knowledge - on home shores. Related to the shelduck, this pale brown and grey goose has distinguishing dark brown eye-patches and is perhaps not the prettiest specimen among our feathered friends. It was introduced as an ornamental wildfowl and has escaped its confines, now successfully breeding in a feral state in southern parts of England. I faced a navigational challenge as the recent heavy rainfall had swollen the river to the point where my route ahead was several inches underwater. Fortunately the main road through Barnes paralleled the Thames and it was simply a case of looking for an opportunity to safely re-join the river walkway, which I did after one abortive attempt. I was now in the district of Mortlake and I walked by the high brick walls of the closed Stag Brewery. Formerly reckoned to be one of the country's oldest brewing sites in continuous operation, the Mortlake complex - officially given the Stag moniker in 1959 - produced its last batch of beer in 2016 after a century and a half of producing well-known brands such as Watney's and Budweiser. The prime riverside site was snapped up by a Singapore-based developer and a mixed-use neighbourhood has been proposed, comprising residential units, shops, offices, leisure and sports facilities, and a new school. Historic parts of the brewery are slated for conservation.

Over one mile of the path skirted the boundary of Kew Gardens. The royal botanic enclosure contains a vast collection of plants, spread across 300 acres. Now designated a UNESCO world-heritage site, Kew features the largest surviving Victorian-era glasshouse. Once again, my schedule did not permit a visit. It's hardly the sort of place you go for a brief stroll. The path ran along an embankment with a water-filled ditch blocking access to the garden perimeter fence. I was however granted tantalising glimpses through the bordering vegetation of the tranquil oasis and impressive buildings within. I also noted the point where the Grand Union Canal meets the Thames. Linking the capital city to Birmingham, the lengthy canal has a separate arm extending to Paddington Basin in central London. The Regent's Canal also terminates at this point and runs through the city to join the Thames at Limehouse Basin, 16 miles downstream from where I stood. I hadn't previously considered an exploration of London's man-made waterways. Clearly that's a major walking project in its own right! I ploughed on to my final destination of Richmond. The temperature had steadily climbed throughout the afternoon and I was beginning to weary. I had a bout of museum fatigue from earlier in the day to contend with, on top of a nine-mile walk. Hunger was making its presence felt and I had scouted out a fish & chip shop online, located not far from the public gardens by the Thames. After a brief rest on a bench, I hiked uphill to the chippy, ordered myself a fish supper and took it back to a balcony overlooking the water. It was wonderful to sit and watch the boats cruise by, while eating perfectly cooked cod & chips. I relaxed for almost an hour, scribbled out a few postcards and then headed into the town centre to pick up the District Line on the underground. The trains run mainly on the surface in the suburban parts of London and the green District Line even crosses the Thames above ground (on Putney Bridge). The early subterranean railways in the city ran in shallow tunnels. Construction involved a method called cut and cover. A trench was excavated in the middle of the road, tracks were laid and the street surface formed the tunnel roof. The deep "tube" lines came later and this explains why some platforms can be quickly accessed from the station entrance while others require an escalator descent into the bowels of the earth. I travelled directly to Westminster and walked the short distance across the Thames back to my hostel. After a quick shower, I was holed up in my bunk, reflecting on a successful start to the holiday and eager to explore again tomorrow.

My second full day involved a double museum visit. South Kensington features the Natural History Museum and the Science Museum, practically next door to one another. Also close by is the rambling Victoria & Albert Museum but the decorative arts don't float my boat. I wandered over to Lambert North tube station, where striking teachers were demonstrating on the street. It can't be easy living in London on a public-sector wage that isn't keeping up with inflation. Best of luck to them. A change of lines was required en route to South Kensington but you stay within the system and don't tap out until leaving the network. All the main sights are within Zone 1 and I didn't fancy getting up early to walk the three miles to the museums when I could zip along on the underground for a couple of quid. London travel is comparatively cheap, there are many free attractions, food bargains can be found. Accommodation is the killer cost. A 400-yard subway connects South Kensington station to the museums and you can even enter the V&A directly from this passage. I arrived at the Natural History entrance at quarter to ten and awaited the opening. I had pre-booked a free ticket timed for 10am and I proceeded straight to the fast-access lane as the gates were unlocked. I quickly realised I was probably going to be the first person inside and I jogged towards the main doors to make sure this happened. For a moment, I had the entire grand entrance hall to myself and I photographed the scene, with the sweeping staircase at the far end. The museum was established in 1881 and is divided into four colour-coded zones today, each following a broad theme. Hintze Hall - with the blue whale skeleton suspended from the roof - is part of the green zone and I headed upstairs and found myself in a dimly-lit gallery named Treasures - featuring some of the most exceptional items from the museum's collection of 70 million specimens, books and artworks. Each object in this elite array is linked to the story of our planet and the people who have helped explore and understand it. A stuffed great auk was a powerful symbol of the damage humans can wreak. The flightless bird became extinct after centuries of exploitation. Huge colonies once existed off the coasts of Canada, Greenland, Iceland and even Scotland. Easy pickings for hunters, they were slaughtered in large numbers for meat, eggs, feathers and oil. Agile and streamlined in water, great auks moved clumsily on land and could only waddle at human walking pace.

The last recorded sighting was in Newfoundland, 1852, with the bird being declared extinct shortly afterwards. The gallery also featured an emperor penguin's egg, one of three intact examples collected on the ill-fated expedition to Antarctica by Captain Robert Falcon Scott from 1910 to 1912. The main goal was to reach the South Pole but there was also a strong scientific presence among the crew. Edward Wilson hoped the embryos inside the eggs would confirm an evolutionary link between reptiles and birds. They had been gathered on a brutal 60-mile trek to the only known breeding colony at Cape Crozier on Ross Island. Accompanying Wilson were Apsley Cherry-Garrard and Henry Bowers. The men endured horrendous conditions. For five weeks they pulled sledges in complete darkness as the temperature ranged from minus 40 to 60. At times the poor surface of the ice permitted only one sledge to be hauled, meaning the other had to be retrieved later. However, the party made it back to the ship, where the eggs were carefully cut open and the embryos removed and pickled. Wilson and Bowers perished alongside Scott on the final push to the South Pole. Upon arrival, they discovered a Norwegian party had beaten them to the prize. Tragically, the men were overwhelmed by blizzards on the return march. Cherry-Garrard hadn't been selected for this mission and survived to publish an account of his travels entitled The Worst Journey in the World. As I type, I've just downloaded the e-book for the princely sum of 76p. Subsequent scientific examination of the embryos back home did not find convincing evidence for a missing link and Wilson's theory had to be rejected. You win some, you lose some. The egg did not provide a scientific breakthrough but represents the continuing quest for knowledge. I wandered around the upper level of Hintze Hall and passed through a large gallery full of rocks, minerals and gemstones. Of more interest to me was a slice of giant sequoia trunk, reckoned to be 1300 years old when the tree was felled in 1891. At this point in time, 70% of the world's land mass was natural habitat, a figure that has now fallen below 40%. With the earth's population forecast to reach 11 billion by 2100, you wonder what lies ahead. From the main hall, I proceeded into the wings where I found the animal collections.

It's difficult to pick a few highlights as the sheer volume of exhibits would require multiple visits to truly appreciate. Fortunately I spotted a free water fountain and I would return here a couple of times with my empty bottle. Constant motion - even inside museums - is hard going at this time of year in the big city. I learned the oldest giant tortoise lived to the age of 152. Can't see myself beating that. In 1935, cane toads were introduced on sugar plantations in Australia, with the aim of controlling beetle pests. Unfortunately the toads had little effect on the beetles but became a nuisance themselves. The perils of meddling with the natural order! Humpback whales can travel over 10,000 miles per year, the longest known migrations. A sea cow's hairless skin and fish-like tail, together with the fact it lives in coastal waters, may explain the phenomenon of mermaids. It has been surmised a tired (and possibly drunken) sailor may have thought he glimpsed a beautiful woman with a fish's tail. Nope, I'm not trusting science on this one. Bowhead whales were abundant until the 1700s but have been hunted heavily and the global population has dropped to 8000. The Alaskan Inuit are the only people now permitted to kill this magnificent creature. Traditionally the Inuit captured the odd whale and used every part of the animal for food, clothing and tools. However, this low-level activity now impacts upon the bowhead whale's future as the total numbers are so low. The native peoples have to contend with an issue they did not create. The gallery featured a bowhead skeleton, 15 metres long. The most valuable product from the traditional whaling industry was the oil distilled from blubber. As you might expect, whale oil was used for lighting and lubrication, but it also played a key role in the manufacture of margarine and soap. Thankfully, substitutes have now been developed. However, the commercial whaling trade has not been completely eradicated. Back to land mammals, the only true wild horse is the przewalski, native to the Central Asian steppes. What we often consider to be "wild horses" are the descendants of escaped domestic animals. I passed into the rooms showcasing larger mammals such as bears and big cats. Apparently the giant panda is classed as a bear but the smaller red panda is related to raccoons. Popular names don't always square with the official taxonomy. Many of the stuffed specimens on display were shot on safari and the skins are now in a faded condition. The museum no longer commissions taxidermy work and has chosen to rely on the older specimens, even though they no longer reflect the natural appearance of the living animal.

The fly in the ointment was the duck billed platypus, the only mammal to lay eggs. Nature remains full of twists and turns. A baby kangaroo is born blind and weighs just one gram. It must find its way from the birth canal to the mother's pouch. It achieves this by climbing up through her fur. Once safely inside the pouch, it locks on to a teat and begins to grow. Eventually it can disengage from the teat and move around in the pouch. Basically the joey is little more than an embryo when it is physically born. An intriguing special exhibition was The Polar Silk Road - a series of photographs by Gregor Sailer, documenting the impacts of human activity upon the Arctic, a region profoundly affected by climate change, where temperatures are rising at three times the rate of the global average increase. Melting sea ice will soon create a corridor known as the Polar Silk Road, which could prompt competition between countries for new trade routes and opportunities to extract oil and gas. This would have widespread environmental, social, and economic implications for local people and there are obvious consequences for wildlife. The exhibition hints at the hidden and unexpected aspects of climate change, many of which are not yet fully understood. The air conditioning in this gallery had been set to maximum, which emphasised the polar chill but also served as a welcome relief in the middle of July. I was now in the blue zone, which focusses on the diversity of life on Earth. This included prehistoric forms and the dinosaur section was thronging with families. I largely body-swerved the seething mass but paused to watch the animated life-sized model of a tyrannosaurus rex. This served as a taster for the special titanosaur exhibition, which offers an immersive insight to the life of the biggest dinosaur of them all. I pressed on and had a look at the Audubon bird paintings. I'd seen a major exhibition of his work in Edinburgh a couple of years ago. A full blog post about this event is is available. My final port of call before lunch was the red zone, which examined natural phenomena such as volcanoes and earthquakes. The zones take a broad-brush approach and human evolution was covered here too. The story of Krakatoa is well known but an even bigger Indonesian eruption occurred when Mount Tambora blew its top in 1815. Thousands died instantly but many more perished as ash smothered the region, leading to to crop failure, starvation and disease. Mount Merapi in the same country is the most active volcano today - erupting massively in 2010 - yet many locals still resist attempts to move them away from the danger. Areas of volcanic activity tend to be very fertile. There is even a bird (Polynesian megapode) that relies on warm earth to aid incubation. It was now after 2pm and I wandered over to a local bakery I'd discovered online. A large slice of spinach and leek pie fortified me for a three-hour session in the Science Museum.

The system of pre-booking time slots does enable you to stroll straight in. I arrived in the Energy Hall and it was a great thrill to see Puffing Billy (pictured left) - the oldest surviving steam locomotive in the world. Built around 1814, it hauled coal wagons - at little more than walking pace - along a five-mile stretch of railway at the Wylam Colliery in Northumberland to the docks at Lemington on the River Tyne. In service until 1862, Puffing Billy was sold to the Science Museum for £200. Sister locomotive Wylam Dilly is preserved in the National Museum of Scotland. Early steam engines were used for pumping water out of mines and Scotsman James Watt greatly improved the technology by incorporating a separate condenser, which cut fuel consumption by a whopping 75%. Watt's engines could produce rotary motion and could be adapted to drive any type of machinery. This placed Britain at the forefront of the industrial revolution but there was a darker side to Watt's history, something I'd been unaware of until visiting the Science Museum. He invested in the slave trade and his family owned a business whose activities included the trafficking of Africans to North America and the Caribbean. Some context is required here. At the time of abolition in 1833, around 45000 Britons owned slaves and Watt's involvement was therefore not an unusual practice for the time. It is however an uncomfortable reminder that the entire industrial age was underpinned by human suffering. The museum recognises Watt's engineering genius but correctly points out his unsavoury side. One final point about steam propulsion. It is very much a living technology as three quarters of our electricity is generated by steam-driven turbines. I proceeded into the space exploration gallery and marvelled at the life-size model of Sputnik 1 - the first satellite to be successfully launched back in 1957. The original no longer exists as it burned up while re-entering Earth's atmosphere. The next gallery examined the making of the modern world and how traditional British industries fell into decline as competition from overseas increased. A cutaway section of an original Austin Mini revealed how small the car was. You would certainly struggle to comfortably fit four people in there nowadays. After a quick whizz around the Covid vaccination space, I headed upstairs to pass through the medical galleries. The next level up appealed to me especially. Mathematics and communications. Part of Charles Babbage's revolutionary analytical engine was on display. This morphed into early computing technology and a complete Enigma encoding machine caught my eye.

The worldwide information age began with the laying of telegraph cables under the oceans. Messages could now be sent quickly around the globe, although manned intermediate stations were required in order to maintain signal strength. Some of these were located on remote islands where the only visitors were the occasional supply ships. It's common knowledge that the coming of the railways required all UK towns and cities to use a unified time system. This was accomplished by sending cable signals from Greenwich so clocks could be set. This led to the creation of the international time zones we know today. Wireless communication was a further step forward and the Titanic used this technology to send out a distress call. 712 people were rescued who would otherwise most likely have perished. Guglielmo Marconi was the first scientist to secure a patent on radio communication, upstaging others who were slow to realise its commercial potential. By 1910, it was standard kit on passenger ships. When the stock markets crashed in 1929, the telegraph lines carrying financial data could not keep up with the constantly changing situation and this led to frantic panic selling, thus exacerbating the problem. Even then it was recognised that the business world relied heavily on electric information systems. The exhibition moved on to the era of the teleprinter and telephone, meaning typed messages could be wired without the need for Morse code. Eventually the mobile phone appeared, actually gaining traction most quickly in poorer countries that didn't have a comprehensive network of land lines. Mobiles had been preceded by radiophones but they were only available to the wealthy and just a few thousand customers could be accommodated as each device required a different frequency on which to operate. Cellnet and Vodafone were licensed by the government in 1985 to create the first national cellular network. Half a million subscribers had signed up by the end of the decade and 90% of the population was covered. Early handsets were bulky and calls expensive. My dad got a mobile in 1995 and the peak rate was 50p per minute and 20p at other times. By the turn of the century, 3G networks advanced the capabilities of phones and they took on new lives as pocket computers, replacing palmtops or PDAs (remember them?).

Meanwhile, home office computing became an affordable reality in the 1980s with the launch of the Apple Mac (pictured) and IBM Personal Computer. The abbreviation PC soon became a generic term for a desktop machine. Apple released the first modern interface in 1983, that enabled users to intuitively click on recognisable icons. The first mouse had actually been developed 20 years earlier and the museum had a replica. I just about managed to see see the entire communications gallery before closing time and I had spent almost eight hours absorbing a mind-boggling amount of information. Now I had a river walk to do! I had already anticipated a long day in the galleries and had shortened my second Thames stage to just three miles, from Richmond to Teddington, the tidal limit of the river. Back I trekked through the subway to South Kensington underground station and caught a direct service to Richmond. I knew the way down to the water and picked up where I'd left off the night before. The Grade-1 listed bridge at Richmond dates from the late 18th century and is the only Thames crossing from the Georgian era. Tolls were levied until 1859. The terraced riverside gardens where I'd eaten my fish supper the previous evening were restored in 2008 as a public space and there is no requirement to make a purchase from the nearby café in order to use the open-air tables and chairs. As I left Richmond, I passed a meadow and spotted a grand country house in the middle distance. Star & Garter was opened in 1924 to provide accommodation and nursing facilities for seriously injured servicemen. An opulent Victorian hotel had previously stood on the prime site overlooking the Thames. Grand society events were held here and a regular guest was Charles Dickens. The exiled French royal family stayed for a few months in 1848. Not to be outdone, Queen Victoria paid a visit in 1850 with her husband Albert. After a period of decline in the early 20th century, the hotel was put on the market several times and utilised as a hospital during WW1. The building was then purchased with funds raised from a public appeal, with the freehold being valued at around £25,000. The complex was donated to Queen Mary in support of her plans to establish a home for paralysed and disabled soldiers. The banqueting hall and ballroom were temporarily used for this purpose but this arrangement was deemed unsuitable for their specialised needs and the hotel was demolished in 1919 and rebuilt as the Star and Garter Home. In 1948, residents took part in a forerunner of the modern Paralympic Games and a royal charter was granted to the charitable trust in 1979.

In 2011 it was announced the home would be sold as it did not meet modern standards and could not be easily or economically upgraded. The remaining residents were transferred to a new purpose-built facility in Solihull (Warwickshire) and the Grade-2 listed Star & Garter was purchased by developers for £50 million, to be converted into individual luxury apartments. One of those units was sold earlier this year with a guide price of just under £5 million. A lot of dough to cough up for three ensuite bedrooms and two reception rooms. Also bundled were a private terrace, full concierge service, two underground parking spaces and access to communal gardens, swimming pool and health suite. All on a leasehold basis, but with 990 years to run, that shouldn't be too much of a concern. The stamp duty on the sale amounted to half a million, a sum with which I could purchase what I consider to be a plush abode! Back on the path, I paralleled the river all the way, although the water was sometimes obscured by bankside vegetation. Teddington features a system of three locks and a weir right on the edge of the Port of London's jurisdiction. The weir marks the tidal limit of the river. Teddington town lies on the north bank and was named by the Sunday Times as the best place to live within Greater London. I crossed the footbridge which took me from Surrey into the County of Middlesex. It had been an easy enough wander and I planned to grab a takeaway before taking a mainline train back to Waterloo. I ordered a vegetable biryani and found a park bench for a spot of alfresco dining on a pleasant evening. I walked the length of the High Street to reach the railway station and there was indeed a good selection of shops. Now that I was beyond the underground network, I assumed my only option was to buy a regular rail ticket. Upon entering my destination, the platform machine informed me I would probably be better off with a contactless tap. I spotted the card reader (Teddington is an ungated station) but stuck with the original plan. An online consultation informed me I could travel contactless on normal trains within the TfL (Transport for London) zone and it worked out a few pounds cheaper than buying a paper ticket. Oh well, at least I could save quite a bit tomorrow as my destination of Hampton Court lay just within the Greater London boundaries. Back at the hostel, I drifted off to sleep and the next day was forecast to be the warmest of my stay.

Even at 9.30am, eating breakfast in a small park near Waterloo, I could feel the heat and I made sure I had plenty water for my trip to Hampton Court Palace. I took a direct train and the tapping procedure worked seamlessly. Paying this way amounted to £9.60 for my two train journeys, as opposed to £15.20 for a daily London travelcard. In order to give myself as much time at the palace as I needed, I had planned to change my direction of Thameside travel and walk downstream to Teddington after I exited the old Tudor stronghold. The train was very busy and clearly Hampton Court - where the line terminated - was a popular destination for a day outing. I bought a few provisions from a local store and made my way to the palace. As it turned out, I had chosen to visit on a garden open day, which probably explained the large crowds. I had long desired to see the palace interior, which was not included as a freebie and I had already purchased my ticket online, allowing me fast access. I entered Base Court and began my tour in the Tudor kitchens, where a real log fire was blazing. Sample menus were shown for the King & Queen, plus invited guests. All manner of meat and game was listed, along with tarts, fruit and garnished custard. Meanwhile, the servants, maids and porters had to make do with beef and bread, washed down with ale. Probably a hearty diet for the working class of the day though. There was also a separate chocolate kitchen where the first two King Georges enjoyed this luxurious beverage (far more expensive than tea or coffee). It was often laced with exotic spices and drunk from porcelain cups. I looked across Fountain Court with its lush green interior and said water feature. A third court featured an elaborate astronomical clock that had been installed in 1540. It still works! Henry VIII took ownership of the palace in 1529. He immediately set about rebuilding and expanding the place. His royal court numbered over 1000 people and Hampton Court was transformed into a base for the monarch and his retinue. The Great Hall with its carved hammer beam roof was completed in 1535 - the scene of many great feasts. Henry's heir (Edward VI) was born at Hampton Court but his mother Jane Seymour died two weeks later. The Tudor period ended in 1603 and the palace was an important royal venue during the reigns of the early Stuart monarchs. Following the execution of Charles I in 1649, the royal residence became the property of the Commonwealth, presided over by Oliver Cromwell. Unlike certain other palaces, Hampton Court escaped relatively unscathed. While the government auctioned much of the contents, the building was left intact. Following the restoration of the monarchy, Charles II and James II preferred to live elsewhere. However, the installation of joint sovereigns William III and Mary II saw a major refurbishment planned.

During this period, half of the Tudor building was replaced and Henry VIII's staterooms and private apartments were lost. The new wings around the Fountain Court contained state facilities and private rooms, one set for the King and another for the Queen. Each suite was accessed by a grand staircase. The royal areas were of completely equal value in order to reflect William and Mary's unique status as joint rulers. Queen Anne - the final Stuart monarch - continued with the renovations. In came the House of Hanover and the first two incumbents - George I and George II - were the last kings to live at Hampton Court. From the 1760s, the palace was used to house grace and favour residents. Many of the rooms were converted to rent-free apartments, with vacant ones allocated by the Lord Chamberlain to applicants to reward past services rendered to the Crown. From 1862 to his death in 1867, the scientist and pioneer of electricity Michael Faraday lived here. Post WW2, the number of new residents declined, with the last admitted in the 1980s. None are still alive. The palace was opened to the public during Victorian times and became a major tourist attraction. A catastrophic fire broke out in 1986 which claimed the life of resident Lady Daphne Gale. A new programme of restoration work was completed in 1990. I walked through the Great Hall, where a re-enactment of a royal banquet was taking place. I browsed the various royal apartments and found the painted walls and ceilings of the staircases breathtaking. After strolling through the art gallery, I decided to go outside in search of the famous maze. I ate lunch in a seated area set aside for this purpose and then checked out the royal tennis courts. The garden complex is huge and the temperature was stifling. I decided that once I'd been round the maze I'd head back to the Thames. Besides, I had already seen the rose garden before entering the palace and the immaculately manicured greensward, gravel pathways and perfectly sculpted trees to the rear weren't really to my taste. I prefer a wilder setting.

The game of royal/real tennis is the original racquet sport from which the modern game of lawn tennis is derived. There are approximately 50 active courts around the world and the sport uses handmade balls with a cork core. Racquet frames are wooden and the asymmetric court is enclosed by high walls, featuring a variety of sloping roofs, galleries and openings through which the ball can pass. Definitely a more chaotic game than the baseline battles prevalent in modern professional tennis. A coaching session was in progress as I passed and I watched for a while. Henry VIII was apparently an excellent player in his younger days, an image somewhat at odds with his rather portly figure in later life. The current court was constructed in 1625 for Charles I and is in use all year round. The club itself has over 500 members and the Duke of Edinburgh plays here regularly. It was another few hundred yards to the maze and now the fun could begin. I had previously navigated mazes in Vienna and at Traquair House, near Peebles. The layout at Hampton Court is the oldest surviving hedge maze in the UK and is trapezoid in shape. Commissioned around 1700 by William III, it covers a third of an acre and is known to confuse and intrigue visitors with its many twists, turns and dead ends. On average, it takes 20 minutes to solve the puzzle. A maze differs from a labyrinth due to the choice of paths at certain points, as opposed to a single winding route leading to the centre. I plunged in and quickly lost track of which forks I had taken. I resorted to the trusty old technique of blundering around and relying mainly on guesswork. A group of schoolkids loudly exclaimed they had found the middle and I tried to navigate towards the sound source. I'm not sure if that's classed as cheating. Eventually I reached the target and a sign congratulates you. Fortunately, there is a quick exit option which means you can avoid embarrassing yourself in reverse.

I headed back to the river, passing two beautiful wildflower meadows within the palace grounds. I suspect they were at least partially planted but the effect was stunning. It was mid afternoon and I had around five miles ahead of me. No pressure to be anywhere by a certain time. I did want to visit the street market at the next town, Kingston Upon Thames, but I knew I would comfortably make that. I was glad I could simply amble along in the heat and I had plenty water left, although it had warmed up by now. Boats chugged up and down the river, including passenger craft. The path bordered the palace gardens for around half a mile and there was an entrance gate at the far end. I nipped in to take a photo and there were hundreds of people milling around. Eventually Kingston emerged on the Surrey side and I crossed the bridge that led to the town centre. Within five minutes, I arrived at the open-air food stands and I bought a Vietnamese baguette filled with pork and vegetables. Very tasty. There has been a market in Kingston for over 700 years. I ate in the town square then went into the historic market hall and picked up a gift for Nicole. I returned to the riverbank and plodded my way back to Teddington. People were swimming in the water and I crossed back over in the direction of the town centre. Kingston, Richmond and Teddington all had a very affluent feel about them. Very middle class and white. It's not difficult to understand why the Conservative Party do well here. I caught a train back to Waterloo and one of the stops was Clapham junction, the busiest interchange station in the UK. There must have been 20 parallel tracks as the various routes converged. Waterloo is Britain's most-used station and there are 24 platforms. The glazed roof of the terminus is now 100 years old and a replacement programme is due to begin imminently. The two-year project involves installing 10,000 panels and the new panes will be substantially lighter, therefore reducing the overall stress on the station building. After three days of river walking and traipsing around tourist attractions, it was time to have a seat by the Thames and just relax. I picked up cold drinks and snacks from Sainsbury's and found a quiet spot by the south bank. The fierceness of the sun had died down and it was perfect weather for whiling away time with a book.

On my final day, I wasn't due to travel home until 1548 and that left plenty of space for a visit to the London Postal Museum, which isn't far from King's Cross Station. I had booked a 10am ride on Mail Rail, the underground Post Office railway that operated until 2003 and is now part of the museum complex. I decided to walk the two miles from the hostel as I had plenty of time. I paused for breakfast at the Crown Café on the Strand, a local business offering takeaway filled rolls for just £1.90. I had sausage and egg. It reinforced the notion that you can find cheap eats in London. A handful of people were waiting outside the Mail Rail entrance when I arrived. The doors opened and we were directed downstairs to the platform. There were lockers available to store bags, just as well because the little train was pretty cramped. The low tunnel height was perfectly understandable as the the system was designed to carry sacks of letters, not six-foot-plus Scotsmen. I hunkered down and the electrically powered narrow gauge carriages rolled into the gloom. A voice commentary explained the purpose of the railway in a clear and concise manner. Six and a half miles of track connected the major sorting offices to main line stations Liverpool Street and Paddington. The streets of London were severely congested in late Edwardian times when the underground railway was initially proposed. Construction began in 1909 but was interrupted by the outbreak of war. The system was eventually ready to roll in 1927 and four million letters were transported every day. Trains ran round the clock and the workforce numbered 200. Parcels were also carried as well as more unusual items such as wild game. Rabbits could be sent with a neck label and the Post Office requested that "no liquids were likely to exude"

After being known for 60 years as the Post Office Railway, the operation was rebranded as Mail Rail in 1987. The system was also computerised, enabling all trains to be controlled from a single location. National mail volumes remained high but the centralisation of sorting offices meant that fewer items were travelling under the streets of London. The railway was closed and mothballed in 2003. Had it managed to hang on, an electric transportation system would surely fit the current climate agenda. The internet was rapidly gaining popularity in the early 2000s and while email was eroding physical written communication, I probably received more personal mail at this time than at any other. I ordered lots of books and CDs. Holidays and trips could now be booked online and tickets were mailed out. Ditto concerts. Clubs and societies promoted themselves on the web but joining often meant printing off a form and popping a cheque in the post. The paperless revolution was gradual and has resulted in far fewer letters being delivered. Just think of the documents you now receive via email: bank and credit card statements, insurance policies, car tax renewal, TV licence, loan agreements, tickets, job application forms, utility bills and more. If you're lucky enough to receive a tax rebate, the Inland Revenue still sends out cheques, although you can make the initial claim online. The positive news for Royal Mail is the huge increase in parcel volumes, due to online shopping. This is now the company's main focus from a business perspective. I'm sure there will always be a national mail system because people want to receive physical items. The mail rail ride lasted around 20 minutes and covered a small section of the original network. I viewed the exhibition upstairs then crossed the street to enter the main Postal Museum. The gallery did an excellent job of telling the story of Royal Mail and I learned many new facts. Every athlete who wins a gold medal at the Olympic or Paralympic Games has a gold post box installed in their home town. I've seen the boxes dedicated to Andy Murray and Chris Hoy, in Dunblane and Edinburgh respectively. The mail service was founded by Henry VIII (that man again) and initially carried only royal correspondence. Each town had to have three horses available for transporting letters. The system was expanded in 1635 to carry private mail for a suitable fee. New roads improved communications and there was a fine example of a mail coach in the museum. By the Victorian age, the whole country was changing rapidly and people were moving around frequently. Huge volumes of goods were being shipped up and down the country by rail. An improved postal network was urgently required and the concepts of adhesive stamps and pillar boxes were ushered in. I learned that the familiar sight of a red post box did not become standard issue until 1874. Some of them were previously painted green. Also, when airmail became a reality, there were special blue boxes for this purpose.

Postal orders (remember them?) were introduced to provide a safer way of sending money. The Post Office also created its own savings bank, which was available to the masses. The organisation was tasked with managing the burgeoning telephone network - a situation that didn't fully change until 1981. Telegrams allowed urgent messages to be wired worldwide and delivered swiftly by hand at the other end. The UK discontinued this service in 1982. There were of course examples of vintage call boxes and pay phones. I particularly liked the post bus exhibit. This vehicle was used to deliver mail in remote areas and also carried paying passengers to help defray costs. The museum and Mail Rail experience is an absolute must for those interested in traditional communications and postal services. The rain was falling heavily and I sat in the café until it abated. I wandered up to King's Cross and my original intention had been to explore the redeveloped areas behind the station and perhaps find a nice spot for lunch by the canal. Alas, the wet weather continued and I bought a meal deal from Tesco and found a quiet corner within the vast station to wait for my departure. The run back up the road went smoothly and we passed the Arsenal football stadium as the train sped out of London. I alternated between reading, listening to music and gazing out of the window. I was surprised at the sheer number of level crossing on the East Coast Main Line. Dozens of them. It had been another fascinating visit to the Big Smoke. I better start planning for next year. I suspect this will be a long-term project.

Dunfermline Vikings

The City of Dunfermline boasts the original Carnegie Library. This fine Victorian building was extended a few years ago and a new museum was part of the deal. Several interesting exhibitions have been staged and the opening of Viking Heroes sounded promising. There was the added bonus of visiting the café, now trading again after falling victim to Covid.

The Vikings invaded various parts of the British Isles and in AD 795 they established a foothold on Rathlin Island, just off the northern coast of Ireland. The aim of the exhibition was to explore the heroic stories of Viking leaders and examine their impact upon our modern definition of a hero. Interest in Norse culture underwent a revival in Victorian times, when several of the epic sagas were translated into English. The first display we encountered was a recreation of a Viking tent, typical of those found on an encampment. In 1904, a longboat was found inside a Norwegian burial mound. The tomb had been constructed for two wealthy women, whose remains were found within the ship, dating from 820. The craft was filled with a selection of grave goods, including chain mail, a heraldic banner, two tents, a wooden chair and other furniture. Across the gallery, a wall was adorned with wooden carvings, depicting famous leaders such as Canute (Cnut), Emma of Normandy (wife of Ethelred the Unready, and subsequently Canute), Harald Bluetooth and his son Sweyn Forkbeard (father of Canute). Also featured was Aud the deep minded, pictured above. She commanded an expedition that sailed from northwest Scotland to Iceland, via Orkney. Also present was Eric Bloodaxe, the last Viking ruler of York, and Leif the Lucky, reckoned to be the first European explorer to set foot on American soil. The Vikings had a reputation for venturing into the unknown and I was particularly impressed with the hanging tapestry that showed the extent of their territory, including parts of what is now Asia and Russia. Closer to home, there are accounts of Vikings reaching the Fife coast and slaughtering monks on the Isle of May.

A rather gruesome exhibit was an array of bones within a glass cabinet, each displaying signs of damage caused by various weapons. In my humble opinion, the main problem with the exhibition was the text-heavy nature of the surroundings. I enjoy reading information panels but to me it seemed a case of overkill and there were too few artefacts within the gallery space. There was an adjacent room with child-friendly activities but I gave that a miss. It was interesting to learn about the female Viking figures and join a few dots in the overall history of the Norse people, but I would award the experience just five out of ten. Worth a look if you are in the vicinity but I wouldn't recommend travelling specifically to see this event. The café was inexplicably preparing to close as we arrived, despite the museum and library being open for another hour. Not to worry, we decamped to the coffee shop within Abbot House just along the road. Delicious cakes can always be found there. You can't expect every museum installation to hit the spot. Hopefully others get more out of it than I did. The post title is a nod to the ice hockey side who competed in the 1950s.