Doors Open Day 2022

With the death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth dominating the media, I had completely forgotten to look at the local Doors Open programme of events. This is a European-wide scheme that takes place every September. The public are invited to tour buildings and locations that don't usually offer general admission. Alternatively, a venue with regular access will host a special event or provide a peek behind the scenes. In Scotland, each Local Authority organises its own schedule and Fife splits the Doors Open activities across three weekends on a geographical basis - east, central & west.

I found myself perusing the online brochure for Central Fife at the last minute. Some of the places I'd seen before but Dysart Tolbooth was a new one. The promise of a historical exhibition grabbed my attention. I also noticed Dysart Kirk was displaying a mural by Charles Rennie Mackintosh, a rare east coast example of his work. Knowing that my mum is interested in the history of Scottish art, as well as local matters, I suggested she join me and the invitation was readily accepted. The locations were a stone's throw apart which meant we could nip down, park up and see both places before grabbing a bite to eat. Perfect! Dysart is an ancient Royal Burgh whose council was incorporated into Kirkcaldy back in 1930. The area retains its character and has its own harbour. The tolbooth stands on High Street, which isn't the main road through the town. The building was erected in 1575 and is a three-stage tower. A prison was later housed in an extension and five women were incarcerated there in 1630 after being accused of witchcraft. A new octagonal belfry surmounted by an ogee-shaped roof and weather vane was added in 1743. By late Victorian times, the dilapidated extension was remodelled into a town house and council chambers were installed here. The complex continued to serve as the meeting place of the elected officials into the 20th century but eventually fell into disuse. Restoration works on the Category-A listed building were completed in 2009, part of a wider programme of regeneration in Dysart. We climbed the steps and received a warm welcome from the volunteer guides. The room contained a museum display of the burgh's history and there was plenty of material to browse.

I was immediately struck by the amount of industry that was present in the area in days gone by. I knew all about the coal mining heritage, but Dysart also had a carpet factory and golf clubs were manufactured in the town. Going further back, salt panning and shipbuilding were local trades. Mining activities are recorded as far back as 13th century and by the 1800s (and the invention of the steam engine), large quantities were being exported from the town harbour to England, Scandinavia and the Netherlands. The deep Frances Colliery was sunk in 1873, although coal production didn't commence until 1905, following a series of geological problems. The formation of the National Coal Board in 1947 brought increased mechanisation to the industry and the seams under the Firth of Forth were accessed. Frances was eventually linked up with Seafield Colliery at the other end of Kirkcaldy. The future looked secure due to the vast untapped reserves under the water. Unfortunately the industry went through a turbulent time in the 1980s, culminating in the bitter year-long strike. Frances fell victim to spontaneous underground combustion and the pit had to be sealed off, never to reopen. The winding gear was left as a monument to the industry that once dominated Fife. The Coastal Path runs right by. American sports goods company A.G Spalding made metal golf club heads in Dysart, taking up residence in a Victorian linen works and commencing production in 1913. The outbreak of the Great War intervened and by 1919 the factory was taken over by carpet maker James Meikle. There was still a healthy pool of former linen workers in the burgh and their skills proved transferrable. Business was good and the firm expanded until - once again - war broke out. The carpet works were required to produce fabrics for military use but the regular trade resumed once the hostilities had ended. The situation changed in the 1970s when competition from overseas, combined with economic unrest at home led to the workforce being drastically reduced. Closure came in 1980.

Much of Dysart's heritage is depicted in a tapestry (pictured), created by a group of local ladies who were inspired by a similar artwork in Eyemouth, Berwickshire. The sun was spilling through a window above the wall hanging which interfered with my photograph, but it's good enough to convey the essentials. One man of whom I knew nothing was Dysart-born explorer John McDouall Stuart, who isn't famous in his home country but made a huge impact down under, where he blazed a trail across the arid interior from south to north through the centre of the continent - the first European settler to complete this mission. Today he is honoured in Australia by a statue in Adelaide and the Stuart Highway which runs 1700 miles across the entire country from top to bottom and approximates his epic journey. The son of a customs officer, Stuart was orphaned in his teens and emigrated to Australia at the age of 23, after training in Edinburgh as an engineer. He became fascinated with attempts to cross the daunting outback and volunteered for serval expeditions. Among them was a mission to locate the centre of the land mass, on which Stuart served as a surveyor. He progressed to leading his own parties and he finally succeeded in 1862 - the group of 10 men and 72 horses reaching the Indian ocean after trekking around 2000 miles from Adelaide and fighting the evils of scurvy and exhaustion. In case that wasn't enough, Stuart and his crew then set out on the return journey! Despite being dogged by dysentery, not a single man was lost, although Stuart himself had to be carried on a stretcher for almost half the journey.

He was awarded a sum equivalent to £250,000 today by the South Australian government but the exertions had taken their toll and he died in 1866 at the age of 50, having returned to the UK in relative obscurity. Only eight mourners were present at his funeral. The tale reminded me of another great Scottish explorer, William Speirs Bruce. He reached the Antarctic before legendary figures such as Scott and Shackleton but his name faded from public awareness. The pioneers don't always achieve long-lasting acclaim. They break new ground but someone else sweeps up all the glory behind. More information about Stuart was on display in a room not yet open to the public, including a map that showed the route he followed. One of the guides let us in for a sneaky look.

It was a short walk from the Tolbooth to Dysart St Clair Church. The current building dates from 1874 and has changed name a couple of times due to mergers with other kirks. In 1901, a young Charles Rennie Mackintosh visited the church and received a commission to design a mural to wrap around the cloverleaf shaped walls. The stencilled work depicts the dove of peace and tree of knowledge, with three rings symbolising good, evil and eternity. It remains something of a mystery why Mackintosh - who had no real connections with the area - was chosen to create the mural. He lived most of his life in Glasgow and his work is most closely associated with our biggest city, where he rose to fame as an architect, producing designs for private homes, commercial buildings, interior renovations and churches. He later moved to France and concentrated on watercolour painting. At some point between the wars, the Dysart mural was painted over, probably because it was too garish for the public mood at the time. Many decades later, a Dysart parishioner was browsing the National Library's digital archives and by sheer chance spotted the artwork, described only as being from a Scottish church. She immediately recognised the distinctive interior walls and set about investigating that matter further. Nobody alive was able to recall the existence of the mural and there the tale might have ended. However, when plans were drawn up in 2003 to improve disabled access to the church, it was decided to engage an expert to painstakingly scrape away the accumulated coats of paint (all 18 of them!) in an effort to expose the artwork beneath. Initial signs were positive and the congregation funded the delicate operation to uncover the entire panel and protect it behind a thin transparent pane. Further grants and donations have allowed another two sections to be fully restored. We inspected the impressive designs and then moved on to the Harbourmaster's House for lunch. A very interesting day.

The following weekend was the turn of the West Fife zone to offer its programme. I immediately picked out the heritage centre at North Queensferry railway station as a must-see. This of course would be up at the level of the mighty Forth Bridge and afterwards I planned to descend to the shore to visit the site of St James Chapel and the little lighthouse at the old ferry port. As was the case last week, a nice little tour focussed on one place. The present North Queensferry station was opened in 1890, along with the Forth Bridge. Trains previously ran to a pier terminus (via a tunnel), where passengers could connect with a ferry service and link into the rail network on the other side of the firth. Unsurprisingly, the construction of the railway bridge caused a decline in boat passengers but the emergence of motor vehicles in the 20th century meant they needed a means of transportation across the water. This all came to an end in 1964 with the unveiling of the Forth Road Bridge. North Queensferry station has been unmanned since 1989 but - fortunately - the original Victorian buildings (now grade-B listed) on the eastern platform have remained intact. The manual signal box closed around 1980, as electronic control was rolled out across much of Fife. A mosaic was laid on the platform in 1990 to mark the centenary of the bridge and automatic ticketing machines were installed in 2005. Otherwise, the station has changed little since the withdrawal of staff. A trust was formed in 2012 to lease the buildings and perform essential repairs. The smaller structure on the western platform had been demolished back in the 1970s and permission was granted in 2014 to open the restored station buildings to the public for special exhibitions, talks, etc. The displays inside the old waiting rooms gave information about the building of the bridge and assorted snippets of local railway history. An incredible 6.5 million rivets were driven in by hand to hold the steel together. Painting used to be a never-ending laborious task, giving rise to the myth about the workmen starting at one end and doing it all over again when they reached the opposite side. In recent years, a new type of coating has been applied that will apparently be effective for 30 years. We'll see about that! I chatted to the man who was looking after the premises for the day and also to a visitor from Canada fresh off the train. He had just completed a lifetime ambition by crossing the famous bridge and enjoyed the added bonus of arriving on Doors Open Day. It really does attract guests from all over.

I wandered down to the old town pier, the main landing point for ferries until 1877, when the waterside railway halt opened further to the west. From here you can gaze at the full length of the magnificent structure and it should be borne in mind that at least 73 men lost their lives during the seven-year construction phase. Queen Victoria is known to have arrived in North Queensferry by ferry in 1842 and the history of the crossing - named after Queen Margaret (later canonised) - stretches all the way back to the 11th century. This part of the Forth played an important role in both world wars. The captured German fleet was brought here to be officially surrendered. Another tale relates to the enemy submarine U21 reaching the Forth Bridge in 1914 but being forced back by battery fire. This underwater craft later became the first submarine to sink a ship with a self-propelled torpedo, when HMS Pathfinder was lost off Eyemouth, Berwickshire. The first aerial engagement of WW2 between Britain and Germany took place around North Queensferry in 1939 when the Luftwaffe were on a mission to destroy the fearsome battlecruiser HMS Hood (which was actually stationed elsewhere at the time). At this early stage of the war, targets were purely military and the surrounding towns remained free of damage, as did the bridge. Scotland's smallest working lighthouse looks across the old port. Designed by Robert Stevenson in 1817, it helped provide safe passage for the country's busiest ferry crossing. Funding was sourced in 2008 to return the hexagonal lantern tower to full operational order and visitors can now ascend the short spiral staircase and gaze across the firth. The small adjacent museum shed provided further information. A short stroll brought me to the final destination for today. The plot of land containing the remnants of St James Chapel is the only surviving medieval evidence in the whole village. Only the west gable and part of the north wall remain standing. The interior space is now a cemetery. North Queensferry was sacked in 1651 during the Cromwellian rebellion and it is believed the chapel was reduced to ruins around this time. Sailors erected a wall around the graveyard in 1752, possibly to deter body snatchers, or it could simply have been a retaining structure as the land elevation rose with repeated burials. Queen Margaret (1046-1093) provided free passage across the Forth in order to encourage pilgrims to visit the shrine of St Andrew. St James Chapel would have been their first port of call for prayer along the route. After Margaret herself became a saint, travellers would have made their way to her resting place via the same channel.

This completed my trio of locations. I often think North Queensferry plays second fiddle to its counterpart on the south side in West Lothian. Extensive car parking facilities along the promenade, along with a wide choice of pubs, cafés and restaurants enables South Queensferry to snaffle the day-tripper trade from Edinburgh and further afield. Plans are also afoot to build a visitors centre with the potential to offer a climb up at least part of the bridge. The Fife side is less well developed for leisure purposes and retains the feel of a quiet village. That's an advantage in its own right. Another productive Doors Open Day and a lot of history learned. I had been inside the lighthouse before but the other venues were completely new to me. The final weekend of September was Clackmannanshire's turn and I drove along to the far end of the Wee County to have a look at Menstrie Castle. Just a single visit was on today's itinerary. Truth be known, it was about all I could manage as I was hobbling around after straining my achilles tendon while playing football. Time to retire perhaps? The three-storey 16th-century mansion house was derelict by the 1950s and was was converted into four residential apartments, holiday accommodation and a courtyard of new housing in the middle of the following decade. Scottish actor Moultrie Kelsall led the campaign. Two small storage rooms on the ground floor were retained as heritage display areas and are now in the care of the local council and the National Trust for Scotland. They are open to the public at limited times. Originally built around 1560, Menstrie Castle was the birthplace of Sir William Alexander - a scholar and poet whose knowledge impressed King James VI. Alexander was appointed tutor of the King's eldest son Henry and accompanied the royal family to London in 1603 when James succeeded to the English throne - a process known as the Union of the Crowns. Knighted in 1609, Sir William proposed the founding of a North American colony called Nova Scotia (now part of Canada). The King selected the politically astute Alexander to be Hereditary Lieutenant of the new land in 1621, conferring the authority to settle the region. Alexander devised a scheme to sell baronetcies for £150 each, in return for grants of land. Cash for titles I suppose they would call it nowadays. Following the death of James, his heir Charles I appointed Alexander Principal Secretary of State for Scotland in 1626 and further attempts were made to establish the colony. The scheme ultimately failed as France had a prior claim on the territory and Charles eventually ceded Nova Scotia to Louis XIII, leaving Alexander bankrupt. He died a broken man in 1640.

Menstrie Castle and the surrounding estate passed through different families and was in serious decline by the 1920s. I poked around the two stone-lined rooms that host an exhibition on William Alexander and the links to Nova Scotia. One wall is dedicated to the 109 baronetcies sold in total. There are also portrait copies of Alexander and James VI. Photographs of the castle prior to restoration are on display. It was listed as historically important in 1960 but statutory protection didn't come into force until 1970. I wonder how many properties in the national inventory were razed during that intervening decade? The publicly accessible part of the castle may be small but visitors come from all over the world to explore the historical transatlantic links. The Nova Scotia name of course lives on as a modern province of Canada. It's flag flies in the Menstrie public gardens and most of the original baronetcies still exist today. The surviving part of the castle is regarded as the country's most complete and outstanding example of a 17th-century townhouse. Scotland doesn't have a great track record as a colonial power. The disastrous Darien scheme in modern-day Panama led directly to a financially ruined parliament going cap in hand to England and pleading for an Act of Union - which binds the United Kingdom from that day to this. A hot topic for debate at the moment, but independence is turning out to resemble the advent of the driverless car. We keep hearing about its imminent arrival but, meanwhile, another year ticks by.

It had been a nice afternoon out on a rather grey day and autumn was now firmly in the air. I had originally planned to walk two miles through Menstrie Woods but my lack of mobility put paid to that. I'll hopefully be back to something approaching full strength within two or three weeks as I have a fortnight's holiday coming up and don't fancy sitting around when I could be out walking, exploring and learning. I have a few day trips in mind. It was now time to head to the supermarket in Alloa for the weekly shop. I took the scenic route along the Hillfoots Road via Alva and reflected on an interesting month full of fascinating historical discoveries. Roll on Doors Open Day 2023!

John Patrick Byrne

I spent a whole day in Glasgow's Kelvingrove Museum a few months ago, poking into all areas of the permanent collection. A return visit was on the cards when I read highly positive reviews of a special exhibition dedicated to the life and works of John Byrne. I took a bus early on a bright autumn Saturday, the day after the death of Queen Elizabeth had been announced. It's just over a mile and a half from the city centre to the Kelvingrove and I usually walk. Basically you follow Sauchiehall Street all the way and it was certainly a nice day for it. Entry to the exhibition was £7.50 and it was housed in a basement gallery.

John Patrick Byrne was born and raised in Paisley. Now 82 years old, he has achieved success as a painter, playwright and stage designer. After graduating as best final year student from Glasgow School of Art, he studied in Italy but did not find fame and fortune instantly. He eked out a living working as a carpet designer, teaching art classes at night school and illustrating book covers for Penguin paperbacks. His break came after reading an article about the growing interest in naïve unschooled artists. He submitted a primitive painting to a London gallery, pretending it was the work of his father, Patrick. The work was well received and "Patrick" was offered a solo exhibition. When the ruse came to light, the gallery owners took it in good part and the showing was a great success. To this day, Byrne signs some of his paintings under his father's name. Or at least who he thought was his father. More of that later. Jock and the Tiger Cat (1968, pictured above) is an example of a Patrick piece of art. Today's exhibition featured the largest number of Byrne self portraits gathered in one place. He often depicted himself with fag in mouth and/or paintbrush in hand. A video presentation explained how he had received a commission in 1974 from Glasgow Council to paint a large mural on the end of a tenement block, part of a scheme to brighten up the troubled city. His effort was entitled Boy on Dog and it became a familiar site to anyone driving along the new Clydeside Expressway. The local youths however were less impressed with his efforts and frequently daubed graffiti on the lower parts of the wall. Having to paint over the unwanted messages initially annoyed Byrne but he began to see the funny side and incorporated some of the slogans into his work after the following inscription appeared: "Painter put your brush away, Tiny Partick [gang name] are here to stay". Byrne created several portraits of his great friend Billy Connolly. One was produced for the legendary comedian's 60th birthday and currently hangs in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery. A large mural in the quarter of Glasgow known as the Merchant City depicts Connolly aged 75 - based on an original painting by Byrne.

My first personal encounter with John Byrne's work was watching Tutti Frutti - a hit series he penned for TV in 1987. It tells the tale of a 60s rock n' roll band - The Majestics - reuniting for a tour which takes in some of Scotland's less salubrious venues. After the death of lead singer Big Jazza McGlone, the band is forced to rope in his younger brother Danny (played by Robbie Coltrane) and young female guitarist and vocalist Suzie Kettles (Emma Thompson). The plot centres around the offstage bickering and inter-band relationships as the Majestics lurch from one disastrous show to the next. The mainstream careers of Coltrane and Thompson were launched on the back of Tutti Frutti and I enjoyed the series as a teenager, watching it again many years later on DVD. The exhibition featured drawings of the band members: Danny, Suzie, Vinnie, Bomba & Fud. The work that led to Byrne's major breakthrough was The Slab Boys - a trilogy comprising the eponymous first part, followed by Cutting a Rug and, finally, Still Life. Published between 1978 and 1982, the narrative follows a group of young, urban, working-class Scots from the late 50s to the early 70s. The first instalment is set in the slab room of a Paisley carpet factory - a job Byrne himself had performed as a young man. The original play was staged on Broadway and featured among the cast a trio of actors who later became Hollywood stars: Sean Penn, Kevin Bacon and Val Kilmer. Byrne himself directed the film version in 1997. The gallery also featured a collage of LP album covers that Byrne had painted, including several for Gerry Rafferty and - notably - a 1980 Beatles compilation entitled Ballads. I enjoyed the music loop which featured rock n' roll standards such as Peggy Sue and Johnny B Goode. Byrne was hired in 2013 to paint the domed ceiling in the auditorium of the King's Theatre, Edinburgh, as part of a major refurbishment programme. Together with his wife Jeanine, he even branched out into illustrated children's literature, publishing Donald and Benoit - a story about an orphaned boy who forms a friendship with a cat who can read, write, talk and play the drums. I chuckled when I saw Byrne's typewriter with the accompanying explanation that his plodding two-fingered style enabled him to think clearly as he produced text. That explains exactly why yours truly is so eloquent here! I must admit it took me a while to fully warm to the exhibition, probably because the huge array of self portraits was near the start. But I became fully absorbed, especially when the musical themes were introduced. The exhibition gave you a good sense of the man. It didn't go into Byrne's family heritage. He is in fact the product of an incestuous relationship between his mother and her own father.

Afterwards, I fancied taking in a stroll up and down the portion of the River Kelvin that snakes through Kelvingrove Park. I also planned a short detour up to the Glasgow University campus at Gilmorehill.

I had previously tackled 10 miles of the Kelvin Walkway, starting at Milngavie. This trek had ended at Kelvinbridge subway station on Great Western Road and today I would fill in the portion inside the park boundaries. The remarkable Sunlight Cottages stand high on the riverbank, just around the corner from the museum. The two dwellings have a real chocolate box or Hansel & Gretel look about them, rather out of step with urban Glasgow. Category-B listed, they are the only surviving buildings from the 1901 international exhibition held in the park. Built from red brick, with an elaborate timber-framed upper floor, some gables are jettied with dragon beams, carved bressumers and bargeboards. Very charming and a real oddity. Across the road from the museum is the cavernous Kelvin Hall, which has had many uses since its opening as an exhibition venue in 1927 (replacing an earlier structure destroyed by fire). It is now a fitness and cultural centre. Part of the premises are occupied by the National Library of Scotland and Glasgow University. Fronted in red sandstone to complement the adjacent museum, the grand building has hosted major concerts, trade and medical conferences, a slew of Scottish exhibitions, the industrial displays of the 1951 Festival of Britain, motor shows, various civic, sporting and religious rallies, world championship boxing, several seasons of the Royal Scottish National Orchestra's Proms and the annual Kelvin Hall Circus and Carnivals, with a full supporting cast of animals. The building served as a barrage balloon factory during the war years. From 1988 to 2010, the hall was home to the Glasgow Transport Museum and I visited the vast collection during this period. The purpose-built Riverside Museum on the banks of the Clyde now performs this function. The Kelvin Hall then became an indoor sporting arena until a £35 million refurbishment programme was carried out in 2016 which transformed the historic venue.

Visitors can make use of a modern health club. Those interested in research can browse the National Library's enormous digital archive and Glasgow University have multiple student facilities, offering an object-based approach to teaching and learning, linked to the collections of the Hunterian Museum (whose public galleries I would shortly visit on this walk). A long stairway led away from the river, up to the Gilmorehill Campus - the main site of the ancient university since 1870. Originally designed in a Gothic revival style (the second-largest example in Britain, after Westminster Palace), the once-greenfield site has expanded over the decades. The 1930s saw the construction of the award-winning round Reading Room (now Category-A listed). Several students and vistors were milling around and I took in the view of the city skyline. I wandered into the courtyard and through the cloisters towards the Hunterian Museum - the oldest in Scotland and one of the world's leading university museums, as well as a great cultural asset to the nation. Over 1.5 million objects across multiple disciplines make up the entire collection. Admission is free to the general public and I'd been once before when Nicole was on a yoga teacher training course and I was looking for something new to explore. The son a farmer, William Hunter (1718-1783) studied at Glasgow University where he came into contact with the enquiring spirit of the Scottish Enlightenment - a period following the Act of Union during which the country made great strides socially, economically and intellectually. He moved to London and entered the field of medicine, becoming a leading teacher of anatomy. He was the principal obstetrician of his day and was employed as as a royal physician to Queen Charlotte. Hunter oversaw the famous anatomy theatre and museum in Great Windmill Street, Soho, where the best British doctors and surgeons of the period were trained.

An avid collector, Hunter acquired a huge range of objects whose scope ran way beyond the areas of medicine and anatomy. His collection encompassed books, manuscripts, prints, coins, shells, zoological specimens and minerals. His library of 10,000 books is regarded as one of the finest 18th-century examples to remain intact. It wasn't just a rich man's indulgence. Hunter used the volumes to support his professional teaching and research. Around a third of the books are medical related but other topics covered include literature, language, fine printing, natural history, exploration, travel and art. Clearly a well-informed bloke! Today the library provides Glasgow University with an exceptional resource. Hunter's nephew Matthew Baillie - who is regarded as the father of pathology - inherited his uncle's house and medical school but the collection was donated to Hunter's alma mater. The first Hunterian Museum was constructed within the grounds of the Old College on High Street. This architectural gem was demolished in 1870 following the move to Gilmorehill Campus and new galleries were created as the fourth-oldest university in the English-speaking world transferred to its new quarters. Hunter stated that he built his collection for the improvement of knowledge. He could not possibly have envisaged the amount of information we have at our fingertips nowadays. Creating a large data bank - in whatever format - requires years of dedication and we are fortunate today that it is so much easier for learners and researchers to access the fruits of this labour. I strolled into the museum, wooden floorboards creaking underneath me. The first gallery featured a display on the Antonine Wall - a barrier (mainly turf) that stretched between the Firths of Forth and Clyde. It marked the northernmost limit of the Roman Empire. The themes of the display were the building of the wall, the role of the Roman army on the frontier, the cultural interaction between soldiers and indigenous peoples and, finally, the abandonment.

Some of the most spectacular artefacts from Roman Britain were found in the vicinity of the Antonine Wall. Completed around the year AD142 in the reign of Roman emperor Antonius Pius, the wall marked an extension of the empire into what is now the lower regions of Scotland. The turf barricade was placed on a rubble foundation and further security was provided by a ditch. The new frontier was short lived and troops may have withdrawn during the 160s AD as they were needed elsewhere in the realm. The construction of the Antonine Wall was a major engineering project and the logistics of sourcing and transporting the correct materials would have required detailed planning. Specialist workers and general labourers were present in great numbers and temporary camps erected and dismantled as the bulwark progressed. Drainage pipes had to be laid and forts needed heating systems. It must have been a great exercise in coordination, especially when you consider the only way of passing messages over long distances would have been by horse. The gallery had a selection of distance slabs. They would have been set into the wall at regular intervals, facing south towards the empire. Nineteen surviving examples are known to exist and sixteen are present in the Hunterian. Many of the stones are elaborately carved, celebrating the successful enlargement of the territory. No other Roman frontier is recorded in such precise detail. The local people of the age lived mainly in timber round houses, although wealthier families would inhabit crannogs and brochs. There is strong evidence to suggest the local tribes had a mutually beneficial relationship with the Romans. There must surely have been the odd skirmish but, by and large, the two cultures learned to live alongside each other. I find all aspects of these times fascinating and this exhibition certainly didn't disappoint.

I wandered through the main museum hall and examined the varied display cases on both levels. Diverse objects such as gemstones, scientific instruments, fossils, coins and medical equipment were included. There was also a host of ethnographic objects from Captain Cook’s Pacific voyages. I'm not sure how well known the Hunterian is known among the general public. I would hazard a guess that museums within universities tend to exist off the tourist radar. Certainly it's well worth dropping into the Hunterian if you happen to be in the area. Just outside are the impressive university cloisters, They connect the east and west quadrangles and lead inside the Gilbert Scott Building to the stunning Bute Hall, where the graduation ceremonies are held, and the Hunterian Museum. With their fluted columns and transverse ribbed vault, these impressive archways are an iconic part of the university and have been seen onscreen in many films and TV shows including Cloud Atlas and Outlander. Eventually I managed to take a picture with nobody standing inside the frame. I left the campus and took a straight course towards Great Western Road, crossing over Glasgow Street - something of a quiet backwater despite the name. I picked up the river underneath the main drag, switching to the opposite bank via an old railway bridge converted to a pedestrian walkway. A 700-yard cut-and-cover tunnel started here and ran directly below Great Western Road. I headed downstream towards the museum, alternating between the riverside and higher level paths. I passed Kelvingrove Bandstand - a sunken arena which can seat 2000 people on the curving benches. The venue reopened in 2014 after a couple of decades of decay. My final landmark of the day was the Stewart Memorial Fountain in the middle of Kelvingrove Park.

Opened in 1872 and constructed from granite, sandstone, marble and bronze, this flamboyant French-Scottish Gothic structure commemorated the late Lord Provost Robert Stewart, the man deemed most responsible for establishing Glasgow's first permanent supply of fresh water from Loch Katrine in western Perthshire. The fountain incorporates abundant imagery of the Trossachs, taken from Sir Walter Scott's narrative poem The Lady of the Lake. The verse is reckoned to have helped popularise tourism in the area now known as Loch Lomond & The Trossachs National Park. Sadly, the fountain fell into disrepair and a 1988 restoration scheme failed after technical problems and incessant vandalism. The iconic structure was finally restored to its former glory in 2009 and a powered water recirculation system enabled the fountain to operate sustainably. Previously it was connected to the mains and the outflow went straight into the Kelvin. It wasn't switched on today and perhaps only operates at certain times. A marvellous sight nonetheless. I'll eventually run out of things to see in Glasgow but - for now - I'm still discovering hidden treasure.

Wallace Monument & Walk

To the north of Stirling stands a hill known as Abbey Craig. The monument at the top is dedicated to national hero William Wallace and can be seen from many miles around. I had visited around 20 years ago and also once as a young lad on a Scout trip. One thing I hadn't done was explore the trails around the hill. Great views of Stirling (city or town? you decide!) were promised and I mapped out a little circuit. I decided to kill two birds with one stone and head to Stirling University campus afterwards, which is situated in the vicinity of Abbey Craig and offers a circular route around the artificial loch at the centre.

I parked at the base of the hill in the Wallace Monument car-park. A coffee house and gift shop complex is situated here and is operated independently of the monument. Tickets cannot be purchased here. A steep road and footpath lead upwards and visitors can either walk or use the shuttle bus that runs every 15 minutes (no requirement to enter the monument). I pushed on and diverged on to the trail that hugs the upper part of the hill. Unfortunately, the promised Ochils Viewpoint was largely obscured by burgeoning vegetation but it was a different story entirely when I emerged at the platform on the opposite side. An amazing vista of the town and River Forth spread out before me. I could easily identify the meander where the invading troops had come a cropper in the Battle of Stirling Bridge in 1297. I looked across to Stirling Castle, atop its eponymous hill in the distance. Stirling occupies a flat valley plain and I could see far and wide from my volcanic vantage point. Trains ran far below and the trip was worth making for this viewing experience alone. I hadn't actually intended scaling the monument but my mood began to shift as I walked around its base and took in the panorama from the esplanade that faced westwards. The gloriously green Carse of Stirling stretched almost 15 miles towards the horizon. This extensive area of agricultural land forms the upper part of the flood plain. Once a virtually impassable bog, inhabited only by wildfowl and a few outlaws, the blanket peat was stripped off as part of a land improvement scheme initiated by local landowners. Families were attracted to move from the Highlands, with the promise of workable land at much-reduced rents provided they clear the peat and expose the rich clay soil beneath. Tenants were provided with wood to build houses and food for a year. The scheme ended in 1865 because the Forth had silted up and there was no more access to the town by sea-going ships. However, more than 10,000 acres of fertile land had been created.

It was almost 10am and the first batch of visitors were gathering at the base of the monument, including a coach load of tourists from Argentina. I decided to sit for a while on the terrace, allow the initial surge to die down then make my assault on the 246 steps. The entry fee was £10.75 but I knew this included a fair amount of exhibition material spread over three galleries. A single clockwise spiral staircase led upwards and I was asked to stand on the right should I meet sometime coming in the opposite direction. The ornate tower stands 220 feet high and was funded by public subscription. Around 80,000 people witnessed the laying of the foundation stone in 1861 (on the anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn) and the project took eight years to complete. Talk of a structure dedicated to Wallace had been ongoing for half a century. The location was fiercely debated, with both Glasgow and Edinburgh being put forward. Stirling was chosen as it was the site of Wallace’s greatest success. The task of designing the monument was proposed as an architectural competition. There were 106 entries and the winning bid came from Scotsman John Thomas Rochead. His plans can still be viewed today in the Stirling Archives. The opening ceremony was held in September 1869, exactly 572 years after Wallace had led his troops to an unexpected victory. Within 20 years, the first busts - of Robert Burns and King Robert the Bruce - were installed in the Hall of Heroes, donated by Andrew Carnegie and the Marquess of Bute respectively. More were added over the years and by 1907 there were 16 individuals commemorated in this gallery. The stained glass windows and Wallace Statue were installed by the end of the 19th century.

I climbed up the stairs to the first gallery - the Hall of Arms, which contains the famed Wallace Sword. The weapon has been on display here since 1888, after years languishing in Dumbarton Castle, where Wallace was taken after his capture in 1305. The sword has been repaired several times over the centuries and the maker's marks have faded over time. Recent scientific tests confirmed parts dated back to the 1200s. The total length of 168cm suggests Wallace must have been over six feet tall in order to effectively wield such a blade. There have been two thefts - in 1939 and 1972. On both occasions the sword was recovered and returned home. The exhibition in this room aims to separate the man from the myth and show how he rose from obscurity to become the leader of the Scots. A short film provides an informative summary of the tale. I continued upwards to the Hall of Heroes - where 18 marble busts are on display in the dimly-lit room. Each person helped shape Scotland's history and achieved excellence. A wide range of fields were considered, for example: science, poetry, politics, music, engineering, medicine and economics. The male-dominated nature of society meant the first 16 inductees were all men. Attitudes, thankfully, have shifted greatly in more recent times (although that doesn't mean the mission is complete) and the previous two entrants are female. Aberdeen-born Mary Slessor was a missionary in Nigeria for 40 years where she promoted the rights of women and children, stopping the infanticide of twins, a common practice in the region. Also honoured was Maggie Keswick Jencks, who created a blueprint for a new type of cancer care after being diagnosed with the disease herself. Numerous Maggie's Centres exist around the UK and they provide support to anyone affected by cancer. The two ladies were selected by public vote and entered the Hall of Heroes in 2019. The final exhibition looked at the Battle of Stirling Bridge. It should be remembered that Stirling was of immense strategic importance in the past. It was one of the few places where troops and horses could pass into the Highlands unencumbered, due to the vast swathes of marshland across central Scotland. The country was under English occupation in 1296. King Edward I sought to tighten his grip and out of this oppression rose William Wallace, a young man from a minor noble family.

Edward dispatched an army northwards to suppress the uprising and the opposing forces gathered in the vicinity of the River Forth at Stirling, bridged only by a narrow wooden structure. The Scots command had surveyed the terrain from the top of Abbey Craig, while the English reconnoitred from the battlements of Stirling Castle. The command was given for the English vanguard to advance across Stirling Bridge. Upwards of 2000 men made it over to the loop of land bounded by three sides of river but - with little room to manoeuvre in the boggy conditions - found themselves trapped after the Scots closed off the open route to the north. Wallace had formed his soldiers into a schiltron - a tight formation consisting of massed groups of men, several ranks deep and armed with long spears. This proved an impenetrable barrier and the hemmed-in English were slaughtered, with many also swept to their deaths in the river. Those who remained south of the bridge turned and fled back to the border. Against all the odds, Wallace had triumphed but the success was short lived. He was defeated the following year at the Battle of Falkirk and the folk hero was forced to go on the run. He was finally captured in 1305 and transported to London. Convicted of treason, Wallace was dragged naked through the streets before being hung, drawn and quartered at Smithfield. His legend was significantly bolstered following the release of the 1995 movie Braveheart, which swept the boards at the Oscars ceremony. Sure, it plays fast and loose with the facts but it was made purely for entertainment purposes and doesn't claim to provide an accurate historical account. Feeling somewhat patriotic, I ascended to the large viewing platform under the crown of the monument, where I enjoyed extensive views across Stirlingshire and surrounding counties. The trip back down was interesting as those coming upwards paid little heed to the prior instruction to keep right, choosing to hug the wall rather than step into the centre of the spiral. I'm pretty sure-footed though.

I walked along to the campus of Stirling University - a fairly modern institution that received its royal charter in 1967. It was the first learning facility of this type to be established in Scotland since Edinburgh University in 1582. Almost 15,000 students are enrolled and there is a sizable overseas contingent. The campus is set within 330 acres of grounds beneath the Ochil Hills, on the site of the Airthrey Estate. The sinewy loch at the centre was created in the late 18th century as part of a designed landscape. A tragic accident occurred in 1901 when three people fell through the ice to their deaths during an outdoor curling match. A footbridge crosses a narrow point near the middle and a 1.5-mile path runs around the perimeter. I walked the latter in its entirety and popped over to have a closer look at Airthrey Castle. Constructed in 1791, the house was extended over the years and became an emergency Maternity Hospital during World War II, continuing in this role after Stirlingshire County Council purchased the estate in 1946, leasing the castle to the newly founded NHS. The university took over the building in 1969 and - after surviving a fire in 2000 - it is currently used as an international study centre. Many students were wandering around or soaking up the nice weather. It seemed a very pleasant place, although the water level in the loch was surprisingly low. Testament to the dry spell we have endured.