McManus Galleries

I lived in Dundee from 1993 to 1995. Scary to think that's now more than a quarter of a century ago. I try to get up to the old city at least a couple of times a year and with Nicole now doing a Masters course at my alma mater Abertay University (albeit based mainly at home, for now), I piggybacked on a trip she was undertaking in order to sort out a few academic affairs. We parked near the waterfront and wandered into the city centre. We had planned a visit to the main museum - known as the McManus Galleries - and I headed inside while she popped around the corner to the university library.

Opened in 1867 as the Albert Institute for Literature, Science and Art, the building is designed in the Victorian High Gothic Style as a tribute to Prince Albert who had died prematurely in 1861. An imposing statue of Queen Victoria stands outside. Three stages of construction were required and everything was fully operational by 1889. The name was changed to The McManus in 1984 in honour of the late town Provost and a major refurbishment took place between 2006 and 2009, bringing the facility into the 21st century. The extensive range of galleries showcase paintings, natural history, science and industry as well as telling the story of Dundee and its people. Temporary exhibitions are housed upstairs and there were a couple of installations I particularly wanted to see today. But first I wandered around the ground floor. I've been to the McManus many times over the years and and I'm familiar with the permanent displays such as the Natural History gallery with the ancient log boat and the rooms telling the tale of Dundee's industrial development. That said, it's good to go back and spot things you maybe overlooked last time around and museums don't ever completely stand still. I strolled into a hall containing locally-themed artwork. My eye was caught by a painting by an unknown artist, illustrating the hillside City of Dundee circa early 1800s from the perspective of a boat approaching the harbour. All the major landmarks of the time were present but the painter had apparently struggled with proportion and certain objects were larger or smaller than they ought to have been. This produced a quirky effect, perhaps the actual intention? Either way, I would probably never have noticed the discrepancies in scale if I hadn't been informed. From more recent times, a photo of the Dundee Royal Arch prior to demolition proved a most interesting subject. Commissioned to commemorate a visit from Queen Victoria and Prince Albert in 1844, the stone gateway was erected between 1849 and 1853 to replace a wooden structure that had been in place for the royal visit. The architect was John Thomas Rochead, who also designed the famous Wallace Monument near Stirling. He wasn't paid for that creation as the funding dried up before the tower was completed. Hopefully he demanded his fee in advance from the Dundee authorities. The arch stood until 1964 when it was demolished to make way for the approach road to the planned Tay Road Bridge. By this time the edifice was stained black by decades of industrial pollution and was used as a public toilet by the pigeon population. The dynamited rubble was unceremoniously dumped into a disused dock to create a foundation for the new bridge. A sad end for an iconic structure that had greeted visitors for over a century.

While it's tempting to label the removal of the Royal Arch as a public disgrace, the argument must be placed within the context of the times. It was in a dilapidated state and also represented a throwback to the past. The post-war period ushered in massively improved prospects and living conditions for ordinary working people, not to mention universal health care and hitherto unknown educational opportunities. The Victorian period had associations with widespread poverty and rigid class barriers. Then there's the issue of what was replacing the arch. Car ownership was booming and being able to drive across the estuary in minutes rather than make cumbersome arrangements to be transported by ferry must have been a compelling option. The decision was taken to consign the arch to history and the only remaining traces are a few stone fragments discovered during the waterfront regeneration project and parts of the foundations. A comeback of sorts occurred in 2016 when the People’s Tower Project invited citizens to help create a replica of the arch in Slessor Gardens using 1200 cardboard boxes bound together with masking tape.

Back in the gallery, another painting I admired was an 1853 scene from Newport on the Fife side of the Tay estuary. Henry Duguid created the canvas from a quick sketch he had made on the spot while walking along the river bank. Dudhope Castle is prominent on the lower slopes of the Law and the painting is a rare example of rapidly developing city's landscape before sweeping changes were made in 1871.

The Scotch Fair by Alexander George Fraser is a composite oil painting from 1834. Set in old St Andrews, a couple of landmarks from other Fife villages appear in the lively scene viz the parish church of St Monans and the Culross Mercat Cross. I met up with Nicole and we looked at the stuffed birds in the Natural History section before exiting on to Reform Street to check out a new addition to the Dundee food scene - German Doner Kebab.

The restaurant chain opened its first outlet in Berlin back in 1989 and has in recent times established around 90 branches in the UK. I had previously walked by their premises in Edinburgh but today was to be my first opportunity to sample the GDK wares. I have of course enjoyed a Döner many times in Germany where it is an immensely popular item of fast food. The sandwich bread housing the meat and salad is markedly different to the pitta normally on offer over here and it was time to test the authenticity of the produce.

We found a free table and ordered a couple of Boss Boxes, which included fries, sides and three sauces alongside the classic kebab. I was most impressed with the meal and at around a tenner per head, this is what you'd normally pay in a fast-food restaurant for a staple menu item with a few extras thrown in. A nice treat and a place I would certainly return to. Makes a nice alternative to the usual choice of McDonald's, Burger King and KFC - although I eat happily at all these places, the latter in particular. Nicole had to return to the university and I went back to the McManus to see the special exhibitions. I detoured through the Keiller Centre - a small (by today's standards) shopping mall in the heart of Dundee that has been trading for decades and occupies the former city-centre site of Keiller's jam and marmalade factory. It was a bustling place when I was at university and contained a diverse range of little outlets. Today the commercial viability of the operation seems to be hanging by a thread.

More than half the retail units are now empty and a mere handful of shoppers were trudging around. I seemed to be the only potential customer under the age of 60! I bought a paper and a few postcards from the newsagent and poked around the various nooks and crannies, wondering how the centre could have declined so badly. It's a different age now, of course. Email barely existed when I was a student, never mind online superstores such as Amazon. Do teenage kids hang out in shopping centres these days? Probably not. I can't really see much of a future for the Keiller other than hanging on grimly for a few more years until it finally collapses. The interior of the building is tired and who would spend money on a makeover when only a trickle of rent is coming in? I headed back over to the McManus, passing the McDonald's where I briefly worked as a student for the princely sum of £3.05 per hour. Mind you, a couple of shifts paid for quite a few pints of ale! Plus you ate for free while on duty. Upstairs in the museum I sought out The Street display - a walk down memory lane comprising recreations of shop fronts and interiors from days gone by. A cobbled walkway added to the retro atmosphere. I had already seen the old-style pub mock-up as it was previously shown downstairs, but everything else was new to me. The original William Low grocer's shop struck an instant chord with me as I vividly remember the popular chain's existence around Central Scotland. In fact, I did my shopping at Willie Low's for the first few months of my university life until Tesco mounted a successful takeover bid in 1994. Almost unbelievably, there were only 17 Scottish Tesco stores at this time. Another name from the not-so-distant retail past was Draffens - a famous independent department store that was absorbed by Debenhams in 1981. That was a little before my time but I do remember Arnotts trading until the early 90s under the House of Fraser banner. It was formerly known as DM Jones and this High Street institution also featured in the exhibition. All large cities had these high-end emporia but they have largely disappeared over the last few decades. Even the fabled Jenners on Princes Street, Edinburgh, is facing an uncertain future after lockdown. Other old businesses to browse in the museum were the pawnbroker, toy store and shoe shop. Our town centres have always changed and evolved but what was previously a gradual process has been rapidly accelerated by the sudden arrival of the pandemic at a time when e-commerce already had its claws dug well in. Who knows where we are headed in that respect?

My final port of call was a vast selection of photography (shot in black & white) by Joseph McKenzie. The time period ranged from 1964 to 1987, which traces the changing face of Dundee during the age of industrial decline and slum clearance. The exhibition was titled "A Love Letter to Dundee" and subdivided into the themes of A City in Transition and Hawkhill - death of a living community. London-born McKenzie studied photography while serving in the RAF and began lecturing in the subject in 1964 when he took up a position at Jordanstone Art College. He became internationally acclaimed for capturing the lives of working-class people, often during times of urban decay and subsequent upheaval. Popularly known as the "father of modern Scottish photography", he used only monochrome film and was formally commissioned by the City of Dundee soon after arrival to document the construction of the Tay Road Bridge. This enabled him to preserve images of the city that would soon be wiped off the map forever by developers. Given free rein to access all areas of the building project, McKenzie had the uncanny ability to poke around behind normally closed doors, capture fleeting moments, scale great heights and catch the surroundings unawares during periods of dim light. Modern health & safety precautions most likely ensure such photo shoots will never take place again. The amazing series of bridge photos form part of the City in Transition display but they are preceded by a chronicling of the demolition of Dundee West Station. The grand Victorian facade was blitzed to make way for a ring road. The platforms below street level were incorporated into the present Dundee Station (then known as Dundee Taybridge) which is why arriving in the city today is a subterranean experience for train travellers. What was deemed progress in the 1960s did not entail retaining a station simply because it had an outwardly attractive appearance. The road bridge was the dawn of a new era but the harsh realities of the construction period in an unforgiving climate shine through the images, as does the itinerant working life of many of the labourers. Another collection portrayed working life in the remaining Dundee jute factories, McKenzie again focussing his lens on a traditional industry that would not last much longer.

The Hawkhill exhibition documents the decline of major Dundonian enterprises, like Cox’s Camperdown Works and the legendary Wallace Pie Shop within an inner-city district. Bleak landscapes are on display alongside beehive hairdos, gossiping women, nimble weavers and trendy students going about their business in the university hub. McKenzie’s photo essays are poignant reminders of the twists and turns in the ever evolving life of a major city. He pounded the streets of Hawkhill for years, building up a montage of the transformation. His findings illustrate how change and progress can brutally drag a close-knit community into the future with no real regrets or even pause to reflect, only to mourn the passing of the old ways many decades henceforth. I've always thought there's a little conundrum at play with social change. People wax lyrical about the unbreakable community spirit of the old days, how everybody knew everyone else and that folk were in and out of each others houses all the time. No doubt some of that has been exaggerated over time and I refuse to believe everything was hunky dory back then, but we have basically distanced ourselves from a way of life that's often trumpeted as being more fulfilling. Yet the local people themselves have had a hand in enforcing these circumstances. We now erect garden fences so people next door can't see what we are up to, we choose not to frequent pubs as often as we did in the past and we embrace the home-ownership culture to leave our roots behind. When council housing was sold off to tenants, those who bought sought to make cosmetic alterations to announce to the world this property was owner-occupied. I'm not saying any of this is wrong. People can live as they please. But yearning for a past you have actively moved away from is - in my humble opinion - a case of the rose-tinted specs being firmly superglued in place.

Summerlee Museum

The Lanarkshire town of Coatbridge has a proud industrial heritage and the area was once dominated by foundries and coal mines. The population grew rapidly during Victorian times but decline set in as the 20th century wore on. The closure of the massive Gartsherrie Ironworks in 1967 was a crushing blow to the local economy and the final blast furnace in Coatbridge was extinguished forever. Today I planed to investigate this fascinating history by visiting the Summerlee Museum of Scottish Industrial Life and walking a surviving section of the Monkland Canal - closed to navigation in 1952.

The Summerlee site covers 22 acres and features a large exhibition hall and numerous outdoor attractions. A tram line runs through the site and guests can ride for a nominal fee. The museum aims to show Lanarkshire's contribution to engineering, mining, steel working, weaving and farming. The lives of the working people are also documented in the spacious gallery. The museum complex was built upon the site of the Summerlee Ironworks (closed 1930) which later served as the Hydrocon crane factory. General admission is free and the project began in 1988, with a £10 million redevelopment taking place between 2006 and 2008. I first visited with my dad around 12 years ago and we arrived by train on the newly-reopened Edinburgh to Airdrie line. The site lies between and in close proximity to the two Coatbridge stations - Sunnyside and Central. The indoor space alone is well worth the trip. A wide array of industries are showcased, including some you might not expect, like sweet making. Professional sport also gets a mention. Thankfully the text information boards do not try and make a distinction between North and South Lanarkshire, these areas being purely a modern administrative contrivance. I had come early on a Sunday morning and the place was nice and quiet. There was a Singer Chamois car on display, basically a deluxe model of the Hillman Imp. An unexpected bonus was seeing the Cambusnethan Pictish stone - the lower part of a carved sandstone cross, dating from the 10th century. Obviously a lot of emphasis is placed upon iron and steel production. I remember my dad saying he toured the Carron Ironworks near Falkirk, while the plant was still a going concern. Even though the visitors were kept well away from the furnace, the heat was palpable. What must it have been like for the men working at close quarters? No wonder they sank a few pints of mild in the pub afterwards! The beer would barely have touched the sides! An immaculate steam shunting locomotive was resplendent in green. Apparently it once stood in Dunfermline Glen, which means there's a fair chance I clambered into the the cab as a child. I spent a good hour and a half taking in all the exhibits and learning new facts. Making my way outside, I passed the crane and had a look at another locomotive, this one a 1956 model that was built locally for export to South Africa. Exposed to the elements, the engine and tender are in a dilapidated state and hopefully the funding for a new paint job can be found one day.

I wandered down to the replica of the Vulcan boat, docked on a branch of the Monkland Canal that ran up to the old ironworks. The Vulcan - at a length of 63 feet - was Scotland's first iron boat. Built in 1819 at Faskine, it was designed to carry passengers along the Forth & Clyde Canal. It was a horse-drawn craft and the strong hull was easily capable of smashing a path through the winter ice. The low centre of gravity added to the stability of the vessel. Running until 1873, Vulcan ended her days transporting coal. The replica on display was assembled by apprentice shipbuilders at Govan - one of the last boats to be built on the Clyde using traditional riveting techniques. The interior exhibition was closed off, no doubt due to Covid and I wandered over to check out the Glasgow "Blue Train" - the first electric rail traction to serve Scotland. The powered units were introduced in the 1960s when several lines around Glasgow were electrified, including the tracks that pass by Summerlee. Despite the forlorn appearance of the train, the interior is apparently sound and there is the potential for full restoration. I continued my circuit of the museum grounds and walked alongside the tram tracks that curve 500 yards back towards the main gate. Rides are offered in a single car but I'd already done this with my dad and was content to explore on foot today. I came to a reconstructed row of miners cottages depicting family life between 1880 and 1980. In typical fashion, you entered the front door and viewed the living space from behind a barrier. Being born in 1971, I was certainly familiar with the more recent end of the spectrum. Interesting to note that until the introduction of County Councils in 1891, there was no single authority responsible for providing street cleaning and waste removal services to the landwards areas (those outside Burgh boundaries). Also, piped water was originally an expensive resource that few could afford. Amazing that my mum's grandparents - people she personally knew - lived in those times. Sometimes the past isn't as far away as you think.

I left the museum compound completely satisfied with my experience. My next task was to pick up the line of the Monkland Canal and follow the towpath of an exposed section. The 12-mile waterway originally carried freight all the way to Glasgow but was closed to formal navigation in 1952 and is now largely culverted underground. Fully open by 1794, Monkland connected to the Forth & Clyde Canal which obviously increased business potential. The coming of the railway network was a body blow to the nation's canals and the advent of modern road transport killed many industrial waterways off permanently, although some have now found a niche in the leisure market. Even though much of Monkland Canal is now hidden beneath the course of major roads, it acts as a feeder for the Forth & Clyde. It was just a short stroll from the museum exit to the buried route of the Canal through the town. Now landscaped as a grassy public walkway and adorned with various sculptures celebrating the area's industrial heritage, I followed the tarmac path for 500 yards until the canal emerged from its tomb and I switched to a more traditional towpath. There had been recent snowfall and conditions were icy underfoot in places. An intermittent drizzle meant I was walking with my hood up but the birdlife on the water didn't seem to care. I saw several moorhens bobbing on the surface and the ubiquitous mallard was also present. I had originally intended to walk the full mile and a quarter of this watered section but decided to cut my wander short due to the increasingly miserable weather conditions. I crossed over at a bridge at Drumpellier Home Farm and proceeded back along the opposite bank. The initial going was good but I soon encountered more icy puddles and had to pick my way with care. The path diverged from the canal and I returned to my starting point via a residential street. A very interesting day out and I was glad I'd came after looking out the window at home and swithering. A more extensive heritage trail makes use of the canal and old railways on the other side of town and this activity has already been added to the list.

Big Birthday in North Berwick

The big 50 had finally arrived. Half a century on this planet. How did that happen? Not being one for celebratory gatherings, I had planned to take the train down to York with Nicole on a Friday afternoon after work (my birthday falling on the Saturday) for a two-night stay in the ancient city. That would give me ample opportunity to walk the historic walls, visit a couple of museums, enjoy a few pints in a Victorian pub, find a traditional bookshop and basically spend a couple of days indulging myself in some of my main interests. The search for accommodation was tricky as the prices in the city centre were astronomical. It looked as if a hostel might be the most practical option.

I continued looking and found a bed & breakfast property on Booking.com, just over a mile from the railway station at a reasonable price. Perfect, or so I thought. Despite the accommodation being listed as "pay upon arrival" - a text message demanding an upfront remittance came through almost immediately. It seemed a brash way of doing business and I discretely cancelled the booking and decided to try my luck elsewhere. I did eventually make another reservation via Air B&B but in the meantime, I received an email from Booking.com, requesting feedback on a potentially fraudulent listing. My intuition may well have been right. Perhaps there are chancers who manage to advertise a property they don't own, in order to set up a few phantom reservations before disappearing with the loot. Had I not been wary, we could well have turned up at an address in York in darkness, only to be told there was no room at the inn. Out of pocket with nowhere to go. I counted my blessings that I'd had a lucky escape and hoped the conman had been traced. As the trip grew nearer there was an issue with the weather forecast - it was quite frankly appalling. Driving wind and rain with rumours of a big storm brewing. That seemed like no fun and I began to get cold feet. I bailed out the day before we were due to leave and on the Friday at work I learned a rare red-weather warning had been declared. Basically this means stay indoors. Train services between Scotland and England were being cancelled which immediately opened up the prospect of a refund. I had purchased the cheap advance tickets on a use it or lose it basis, but if you are physically unable to travel then a reimbursement is due, for one leg at least. I successfully pulled out of the Air B&B arrangement before the point where I lost all entitlement of a refund and was happy to accept half of my money back. A few strips of silver lining lay inside the cloud. A replacement trip to the East Lothian coastal town North Berwick was hastily arranged. It was expected to be blustery - but thankfully dry - on the Saturday in Scotland but there was no advice against venturing outdoors. North Berwick was I place I'd wanted to visit in any case. The Seabird Centre had been upgraded since I was last there in 2005 and I'd also heard about the quirky selection of shops on the High Street. The town is overlooked by a volcanic plug called the Law and a recent hike to the top had rekindled my interest in the town. On that particular day I only had time for a quick assault on the hill before heading back home.

We drove round the Edinburgh by-pass and joined the A1 before branching off to the coast. As you approach North Berwick, the horizon is dominated by the looming form of the Bass Rock. 351 feet tall at it's highest point, the rock is home to the world's largest colony of northern gannets. I often see these aerodynamic white birds diving headlong in the sea from a great height in coastal locations as they attempt to catch fish. An estimated 150,000 gannets throng the rock and from a distance it looks like it's coated in white icing when the birds are in residence. People often assume this is due to a coating of droppings, but it's actually the gannets themselves that produce the effect. We found a parking spot in the town centre and made the short walk to the Seabird Centre. I had secured a half-price deal online, no doubt due to the fact that there aren't any seabirds around at this time of year. The centre was opened in 2000 and bankrolled by the Millennium Fund. Boat trips operate from Easter to October and take you round the Bass Rock and the island of Craigleith. Braver souls can take a RIB (rigid inflatable boat) to the more distant Isle of May, while the most expensive option is a package that includes a landing pass for the Bass Rock. We wouldn't be doing any of that today of course. Even if it had been sailing season, the heavy swell and crashing waves would surely have dictated all boats be tied up until things calmed down. The Seabird Centre sits adjacent to the old North Berwick outdoor swimming pool - closed in 1996. The facility has now been largely filled in and is used as a docking area for small craft. We checked in at the reception and wandered downstairs to the basement exhibition area. It quickly became apparent an advance booking hadn't been necessary as there were precisely zero other visitors. This provided the advantage of having the staff focus their attention on us and we were given a friendly welcome and had all our questions answered. I particularly liked the display of seabird eggs in a glass case (pictured below) and the migration story housed within a sloping illuminated tunnel. As expected, there was a lot of information about conservation projects and the creeping effects of climate change. Another highlight was the virtual reality chamber, where a staff member placed a helmet over my head and instructed me how to explore the replica of the local environment I'd be immersed in. Bowing your head took you underwater to swim among the marine life. It wasn't possible to examine the real Bass Rock from close quarters today but this was the next best thing.

I was more than happy with the overall content of the exhibition space and would happily have paid full price! We headed upstairs to the café which was filling up with people. The glass walls provided excellent sea views as we ate our lunch and I should imagine it's a popular spot among locals looking to treat themselves, especially on the outdoor terrace, which was off-limits today. Afterwards I browsed the shop and bought the obligatory stack of postcards. Wildlife and coastal images are popular requests on Postcrossing profiles. Nicole purchased a puffin mug that had leapt out at her from the shelf. I'm a firm believer in going ahead and buying the object when that happens, provided it's comfortably affordable. We exited the building and took a bracing walk along to the harbour where we observed mighty waves crashing on the shore. North Berwick is a Royal Burgh and became a fashionable holiday and golfing resort for Edinburgh people in Victorian times - no doubt due to the opening of the branch railway in 1850. British Rail proposed closure in the 1960s - a tough time for railways, particularly short branch lines - but the Minister of Transport refused consent and the line survives to the present day, undergoing electrification in the early 90s. Rather farcical when you consider the trunk route from Edinburgh to Carlisle via the Scottish Borders was dismantled a few months after North Berwick's reprieve. Perhaps it was a politically sensitive area at the time. The lengthy rural line through the heart of Wales has the ultimate insurance policy, snaking through seven marginal constituencies! It was time to explore the High Street and I had already heard there were a number of quirky shops to browse. My previous trip to the town (other than the quick climb up the Law) had been back in 2005, the first Monday in May to be precise and it was the day before I got the keys to my current house. Being a bank holiday, the place thronged with day trippers and I had basically travelled in order to ride on the branch line and grab a few leisurely pints of real ale. The fist part of the plan went smoothly enough but the pubs were heaving and I decamped to the Seabird Centre in search of a quieter environment. My knowledge of birds at the time was less than rudimentary and I dimly recall looking at the Bass Rock through the supplied scopes. No real idea what I was looking at.

Nicole spotted a cute woolly hat in a shop window and we went inside. It turned out to be a most interesting emporium with a range of local artwork and impressive selection of books. Just the sort of place I cannot resist supporting, as the world would be much poorer without this type of business. I picked up a thriller that sounded exciting and handed over a tenner. The High Street features a large number of independent traders and there must be a thriving painting scene as there were several small art galleries serving this tiny town. After walking up and down the full length of the main drag, we said goodbye to North Berwick but I am planning to bring my mum down sometime. She hasn't been here since my folks lived up the road in Tranent, before returning over the water to their home county of Fife in 1976! We had noticed Dirleton Castle on the way in and I fancied stopping for a look around the grounds. As it happened, the main building was still closed due to the pandemic but we were free to have a wander around the surrounding gardens. This magnificent fortress and residence served three successive noble families over 400 years. Badly damaged in Cromwell’s 1650 siege, Dirleton’s fortunes were revived by its new owners in the 1660s. The Nisbet family built a new mansion house nearby and incorporated the picturesque castle ruins as the central feature in their new designed leisure landscape. This development breathed new life into the splendid gardens, now home to the world’s longest herbaceous border. We had a nose around and there was sufficient strength in the sun to provide a nice lighting effect for photos. We hopped back into the car and took the coastal route towards Edinburgh, passing through Gullane and Aberlady - pausing at the latter for a view across the the vast bay. To avoid driving into the city centre, we pulled in a Ingliston Park & Ride which has a tram platform. I've only used the trams on a handful of occasion since their reintroduction in 2014. Normally, I take the train or bus from Fife straight into the heart of the city. The street cars seem to work efficiently and a range of tickets are available. We paid £6.80 for two day returns. It is a bit cheeky to charge £1.80 for a single anywhere in the City Zone but bump this up to £4.50 if you begin or end your journey at the airport, particularly when it's an easy walk from the penultimate stop to the terminal. Many tourists won't know this and may already be burdened with luggage.

Alighting on Princes Street, our destination was Yes Sushi on Hanover Street, more or less opposite the flat where my great gran lived out her last years. We had eaten in this restaurant a few times before and had always gone for the buffet option. You have to ask for this as it's on a separate menu not readily proffered upon arrival. However our usual tactic didn't work on this occasion as the eat-all-you-can deal is no longer available. Oh well, a la carte it is then! A lot of people (myself included) initially assume that sushi cuisine is all about raw fish. However, that is quite incorrect as only certain items on the menu fit this description. I ordered myself a plate of spare ribs and a varied selection of sushi rice rolls and proceeded to tuck in. I even had a bash at using chopsticks and acquitted myself with aplomb. My first ever attempt in Dresden, Germany, had been lamentable and the waitress helped me out by binding my useless batons together with a rubber band, thereby creating a handy snapping tool. Having eaten our fill, we headed over to Princes Street Gardens to browse the stalls at the German style Christmas market - at least that was the theory! The queue to gain entry was lengthy and one person near the front said she had been waiting for half an hour. Through the gate we could see the market was heaving and it didn't look like a fun experience. All concept of social distancing completely abandoned. There were a few food stalls on the perimeter with a serving hatch facing Princes Street but the prices were ridiculous. £7 for a bratwurst? Das ist aber schweineteuer! Instead we wandered towards Haymarket and took a tram from there. Not the birthday outing I had planned but a good one nonetheless.