Craiglockhart Hills

The city of Edinburgh is built around seven hills: Calton, Castle, Arthur's Seat, Corstorphine, Blackford, Craiglockhart and Braid. Today I was ticking off my 6th peak in the capital. Only Braid Hill would remain to be scaled. There are actually two Craiglockhart hills, East and West. A three-mile walk from the city centre was required to reach them. Yes, I could have jumped on a bus but I wanted to stretch my legs and take in a few sites of interest along the way. It was a pleasant but blustery day and I arrived at the West End of Princes Street by coach, having left my car at Ferrytoll Park & Ride. I headed up Lothian Road, through Tollcross and Bruntsfield, on towards Morningside. All familiar territory.

Before the Morningside shops, I branched along the lengthy Colinton Road through a part of the city known as Merchiston. I hadn't walked here previously and I wanted to have a quick look at grounds of the Royal Edinburgh Hospital down Tipperlinn Road. I had discovered during my family research that my great grandmother Elizabeth Howieson (nee Forrest) had passed away here in 1947 at the age of 68. She was my mum's paternal gran, although mum never knew her, being just two years old when her gran died. Elizabeth was born in Cadder, Lanarkshire but grew up in West Calder, Midlothian. Her father was a master stonemason and the census shows him working in various places. She married my great grandfather David Howieson in 1898 and - according to family legend - taught him to read and write. David did well for himself in life, as did his three brothers. All four boys were raised in cramped conditions in the shale-mining village of Mossend (now demolished). Four other siblings died from TB in young adulthood and - this just struck me - there but for the grace of God go I. Half a family wiped out and I just happen to descend from those who were spared. How random is that? David started down the pit as a boy but eventually passed his exams to become a colliery manager. I have found reference to him being in charge of several mines and also working as a lecturer. After his death in 1933, Elizabeth was granted a widows pension. I've actually seen a copy of the letter in a box of photos and documents left by my mum's Auntie Jean, who was David's youngest child. From Elizabeth's death certificate, I could see she died at Tipperlinn Road but her usual residence was listed as Hanover Street in the centre of Edinburgh. My mum and I pieced together that she lodged there until being admitted to a psychiatric ward for her final days. The reasons remain unknown. I strolled down Tipperlinn Road and noticed a memorial (pictured above) just inside the hospital grounds. It was dedicated to Philippe Pinel (1745-1826) and erected to mark the centenary of his death. Research revealed he was a French physician who pioneered the humane treatment of the mentally ill. Six plaques below the bust of Pinel commemorated other figures who were instrumental in improving conditions for psychiatric patients, among them Florence Nightingale. The Edinburgh Royal Hospital opened as the Lunatic Asylum in 1813, initially for patients whose families could afford to pay. The West House (now McKinnon House) accommodated poor folk from 1842 onwards. Patients were encouraged to be active, using any existing skills such as gardening, pig farming, carpentry or sewing, and to take part in sports, including curling. A printing press was installed, and a magazine, the Morningside Mirror, produced. At the turn of the 20th century, attitudes towards mental illness were slowly beginning to change. In 1922, the asylum was renamed the Royal Edinburgh Hospital for Mental and Nervous Disorders. The NHS took control in 1948 and a whole suite of specialist units occupy the site, including treatment for alcoholism and young people. Many of these buildings are modern but the old McKinnon House still stands by the entrance.

I'm fairly sure this is where my great gran would have been accommodated. The address on his death certificate is given as 15 Tipperlinn Road and the private houses in the first part of the street run up to number 11. Who knows what state of mind she was in by the end, or whether in fact she was even aware of her condition. All now lost in the mists of time. Delving into family history is something I've found really fulfilling and it's interesting to visit places listed on old documents which are linked to your very being. Time to move along. Right next to the Royal Hospital is George Watson's college - a private school for both boys and girls. Edinburgh has a plethora of these establishments and no doubt the old school tie network has a major influence regarding who gets into certain professions and offices. The general pattern of the stats is well known. A small minority of pupils are privately educated yet they are massively over-represented in fields such as the judiciary, senior politics, finance and academia. Effectively, this relatively tiny group has the biggest say in running the country. All because mum and dad were already wealthy. It's not surprising that these establishments achieve high academic performance. The kids are drawn from backgrounds where reading and learning is valued. If the parents are investing many tens of thousands of pounds over the years in a "good education" for their children, of course they will monitor the situation closely and take a keen interest. Should little Johnny's grades be flagging, you can always throw money at the issue and tutor him up to the eyeballs to get him across the line in the exam. While private schools certainly offer excellent sporting facilities and other extra-curricular events, the myth does sadly persist that they employ the "best teachers". Surely an insult to the thousands of educators working in state schools and delivering results where the odds may be stacked against them. Places like George Watsons make much of their charitable status, which could be more cynically interpreted as a jolly good wheeze to enjoy tax breaks while ushering in a handful of children from less privileged backgrounds by the side door. Something they do very well is imbue that almost undefinable sense of "polish" - which enables young leavers to appear older and wiser beyond their years. Another advantage in the fight to secure places at elite establishments. A Modern Studies teacher once told me how pupils from private schools seem to have an easy ride at events like debating competitions, because they are often judged by the way they say something rather than what they are actually saying. Should we abolish fee-paying schools as part of a "levelling up" agenda? (Food for thought, Boris). Well, I'm not sure you achieve anything by shutting down a well-performing institution just for the sake of it. Rather, the answer perhaps lies in harnessing the expertise and making it accessible to a wider range of people. But one thing the wealthy have evolved to be rather good at is hanging on to their wealth and the status that goes with it. I don't have the answers. Too much philosophy on a day when I've got old buildings to check out.

I was hoping to scout out the old Edinburgh Hydropathic Hospital (pictured right), which lay beyond George Watson's playing fields and is now part of Napier University. A detour to an abandoned mansion was also on the to-do list. As I passed the rugby pitches, I could see the upper parts of a grand building in an elevated position which I initially assumed was the hydropathic site. I later discovered I had my geography slightly muddled and the mansion-style complex was in fact the old Edinburgh Asylum. Also known as Craighouse, it is currently being converted to luxury flats and the first residents have already moved in. Napier added this cluster of buildings to their campus in the early 1990s when the enormous old mental hospitals were closing across the land. Plans were announced in 2011 to develop the site for housing and - after a few years of uncertainty - this project is now underway. The impressive Victorian pile, erected within the grounds of Old Craig House in 1894, was originally a private psychiatric hospital. Created as an annex to the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, it was possibly the most luxurious private mental facility ever built in Britain. There is a website called Canmore that holds images of historic buildings and the interior of Craighouse was certainly opulent. Further along the road, the Hydropathic Hospital was taken over by Napier in 2013 and now functions as a business centre. It finds itself sandwiched between modern university buildings but thankfully the exterior of the old place has been retained. I couldn't fit the entire frontage in my camera frame due to the ground sloping rapidly away beneath me as I tried to find the right angle. Hydrotherapy, also known as hydropathy or, simply water cure, was a fashionable practice in late Victorian times. It uses "healing" waters for pain relief and the treatment of disease. The Craiglockhart Hydropathic Company purchased 13 acres of land and erected a huge Italian style villa to serve as their headquarters. The hospital opened for business in 1880 and the original brochure espoused the extent of the facilities on offer...

The establishment affords to its residents all the amenities and retirement of quiet country life. The interior contains a spacious suite of public rooms opening off a handsome 140-foot corridor and consisting of a dining hall, drawing and reception rooms, consultation room and a magnificent recreation hall. There are several luxuriously furnished parlours and detached suites of private apartments, commanding extensive and charming views.

A commodious billiard room is also provided. Bedrooms are spacious, light and elegantly furnished. Bathing options include a large Turkish bath, ample swimming pool, special varieties of hot and cold plunge, vapour, spray, needle and electrical baths. The gardens extend to 12 acres and feature lawn, shrubberies and ornamental plantation, interspersed with agreeable walks leading to various viewpoints across the city. Various sports are catered for: tennis, croquet, archery and bowling. Residents have the privilege of wandering over the adjoining wooded hill. Winding paths take you to pleasant resting spots among the cliffs.

Sounds like quite a place! It probably didn't come cheap either. Between 1916 and 1919, the hospital was requisitioned by the military and used to care for shell-shocked officers. It was here that the celebrated war-poets Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon became acquainted. Despite the enduring trauma, the few months they spent at Craiglockhart were a productive period for both of them and their work remains influential to this day. Both men eventually returned to the front line and Owen was killed in action during the final week of the hostilities, aged 25. Sassoon survived a serious injury (shot in the head by friendly fire) to live until the age of 80. A ghastly time for humanity and I did find it particularly nauseating when a Christmas TV commercial recently attempted to romanticise life in the trenches. The hospital was returned to its owners in 1920 but attitudes to hydropathy had changed and there was little demand for the services on offer. The business was wound up and the building sold to the Society of the Sacred Heart - an enclosed religious order - to be used as a convent and training college for Catholic teachers. It later served as Craiglockhart College of Education before becoming part of Napier Polytechnic (which later received a university charter). Quite a story! It should be noted the extensive wartime treatment on offer at Craiglockhart was only made available to senior officers. Rank and file men who were visibly reeling from shellshock would merely have been ordered to get on with it. The penalty for non-compliance wasn't an attractive one.

Before I climbed the hill, I wanted to take a look at an abandoned mansion a few streets away. Redhall House dates from 1758 and was built in the style of a French chateau close to the Water of Leith. The house was bought by Edinburgh Council in the 1940s and converted to a children's home. This arrangement ended in the early 70s and a special needs school was built within the grounds. The old house is now owned by a property developer but no progress has been made towards its renovation and the building remains boarded up. It's location in the corner of a modern private housing estate should hopefully deter vandals from visiting on a regular basis. I was in full view of many front windows as I took a few photographs. The walled kitchen garden for the Redhall Estate lies on the other side of the river and is now run by the Scottish Association of Mental Health (SAMH) as an organic horticultural training centre for adults recovering from mental health issues. Up to 36 individuals receive full-time placements. Unfortunately the garden is only open to the public from Monday to Friday, otherwise I would have dropped in for a visit.

And so to the hill climb. There was also the small matter of Craiglockhart Castle. Little more than a stump remains of a tower house that was once four storeys high. It stands on the edge of the university campus and is protected as a Scheduled Monument. A wide gravel path led halfway up the hill and I emerged on the fringe of a golf course. From here, a more informal track snaked upwards but it was straightforward to follow and I was soon strolling towards the summit which offered a brilliant 360-degree panorama of Edinburgh. To the north, I could look across Murrayfield Stadium towards the Firth of Forth. To the west lay the unmistakable mound of Blackford Hill. The castle was especially prominent atop its rock and - for such an easy climb - the rewards are simply breath-taking. Yet how many people have only ever scaled Arthur's Seat or Calton Hill in the city centre, and are completely unaware of the charms of Craiglockhart? I spent a good 20 minutes just appreciating the capital city spreading out below me before the wind chill began to make its presence felt. Time to move along to the smaller eastern summit. The walk took me through a patch of old woodland. Virtually unchanged since the 18th century, the tree canopy is formed by oak, beech, Scots pine, ash and chestnut. The route is known as the Poet's Path, on account of Wilfred Owen and Siegfried Sassoon regularly wandering here during their period of recovery. The smaller Craiglockhart peak offers decent views in its own right but is definitely overshadowed by its big brother. Both hills (and the woodland) form a nature reserve but I couldn't help wondering how much better a haven it could be without the bloody golf courses. The incessant thwack reminded me of this constantly. But there is a useful legal precedent governing these matters, loosely translated from the Latin as "we got here first". I wandered down to Craiglockhart Pond. I had noticed it on the map during the planning of this walk and vaguely remembered reading something about ice skating and curling. Nothing out of the ordinary here. What I was about to find out was that the pond and surrounding area once teemed with visitors. An amusement park named Happy Valley was sited here. The story began in 1873 when local businessman and philanthropist John Cox purchased land within the old Craiglockhart Estate and dammed the river valley to create pools for public leisure purposes. Unfortunately, any other plans he may have had were abruptly terminated when he died suddenly the following year. The area remained popular and by the 1930s had begun the transformation into a fairground. The construction of a dancehall augmented the facilities and attracted the top jazz performers of the day. During WW2, the military moved in and used the ponds as a marine testing centre. Sadly, the amusement park never got going again in peacetime and the site was partly redeveloped as a tennis centre. The Scottish Championships were held here for many years until the early 90s and attracted a glut of top players as it proved to be a useful warm-up for Wimbledon. Some of the big names to appear were Fred Perry, Rod Laver, Martina Navratilova, Ivan Lendl, John McEnroe and the perennial crowd pleaser Jimmy Connors. In more recent times, Craiglockhart Tennis Centre was a training base for Andy Murray.

So there you have it. What was originally meant to be a jaunt up a couple of minor hills and a wee look at a couple of old buildings ended up revealing a raft of history I hadn't really anticipated. But therein lies the beauty of walking. Whenever you set foot upon unfamiliar turf, you are sure to learn new facts and see things you hadn't spotted on the map beforehand. Then you research these topics back at home and discover additional facts. It was time to return to the city centre and catch a bus to Fife. I popped into Waitrose for a few things (still something of a novelty to me) and stopped at Bruntsfield Links to eat my sandwiches. I had completed six out of the seven Edinburgh hills and will hopefully tackle Buckstone Snab soon, the highest point in the Braid Hills, which are the most outlying. Who knows what else I will stumble across? I'll probably make a detour in order to have a closer look at the old Craighouse Asylum and take a few pictures. I had accidentally deleted the shots I'd captured today from a distance. Well, you can't win 'em all.

Doors Open Days 2021

In recent years I've marked the autumn Doors Open days in the diary. They take place over various weekends in September and each local authority organises its own programme. A wide range of buildings and other locations is open to the public free of charge. Special tours or displays are often part of the experience and pre-booking may be required for certain events. The 2020 schedule was wiped out by the pandemic and a limited listing was posted for 2021. I selected a few venues in Edinburgh and also a military museum in Perth.

By coincidence, a castle in Kinross-shire was advertising an open day during the same month. It wasn't part of the official Doors Open scheme but looked an interesting prospect nonetheless. My mum was keen to come along and we headed towards Crook of Devon for a look at Tullibole Castle, tucked away out of sight from the main road. As we wandered into the substantial grounds, a tour group was just making their way into the main building and we managed to piggyback on that. A 17th century medieval tower house, Tullibole is a good example of a laird's house of the era, built on the palace plan. Present owners Rhoderick (the 6th Lord Moncrieff and 16th Baron) and Alison offer bed & breakfast as well as hiring the grounds and carriage house out for wedding parties. The castle has belonged to the Moncreiff family for over 300 years. The grounds feature a circular maze, croquet lawn, ruined dovecot, formal fishponds, ancient graveyard, grand trees and the remnants of a medieval church. Several peacocks stroll around it is certainly a picturesque spot for a nuptials. The ceremony itself can take place in the castle's great hall. Other hospitality and team building events are also catered for. The castle's own website incorrectly states the location as the Perthshire countryside. This is most likely a marketing ruse and probably slips by largely unnoticed since the name of the local authority is Perth & Kinross. Use of the Big County's name will conjure up scenic images among prospective customers. Cheeky! We entered what was clearly Rhoderick and Alison's main living space then proceeded upstairs to view the main hall, which measures 10 metres by five and a half. The highlight of the upper chamber is the enormous fireplace which has a lintel formed by a single slab of 11 feet. Unfortunately I was unable to get an unimpeded view in order to take a photograph. Even after the main group began to filter out, several kids were playing in front of the hearth. Not to worry. After viewing the master bedroom, we descended to the kitchen which had a sturdy wooden dining table and a fabulous lived-in look. I spotted a pile of cassettes lying around! We emerged from the back door into bright sunshine and decided to explore the grounds. I had found the castle tour fulfilling. Definitely a strong human touch among all the usual ornamental artefacts. Rhoderick Moncrieff himself had been our guide and was able to draw upon centuries of family history to explain the finer structural details as well as outline a few of the characters who had inhabited the stronghold in the past. The outing was already past the worthwhile stage. Any further treasures we could unearth would be a nice extra. My eye was caught by the peacocks, doing their usual strutting and preening routine. As I zoomed in with the camera, I noticed one appeared to be sitting in a shallow depression. Then I spotted another, scrabbling away at the earth, obviously creating its own hollow.

Despite seeing the peacocks now and again in Dunfermline Glen, I hadn't observed this aspect of their behaviour before. They are beautiful birds and there's one action I would love to see them perform - flight! I've seen YouTube footage of airbourne peacocks, but never with my own eyes. I don't think they're capable of sustaining a serious flight but they seem perfectly capable of reaching the top of a house or barn. The closest I've come to witnessing a peacock in the air was when a chick in the Dunfermline aviary half jumped, half flew, on to a branch a few feet off the ground. The birds have been a familiar sight in the Glen for over a century and they have free run of the place (and also freedom of the Royal Burgh!). Just a couple of years ago, the population was down to one - old Clive, who could sometimes be seen parading up the High Street. When Clive went to the great nest in the, erm, sky, measures were taken to introduce a new flock and establish a sustainable breeding programme (Clive walked the walk no problem, but didn't take things to the next level). This has by all account been successful but a young peacock was tragically killed by a dog just recently, off the leash against the park rules. Sometimes they cross the road to the car dealerships, where they apparently enjoy a few titbits. Opportunists to the core! We checked out the maze and I had a go at reaching the centre while mum rested on a bench. The hedges were only up to my chest but that didn't make it any easier to find the gaps. After hitting a few dead ends, I gave up then had the problem of finding my way back out! I remember (successfully) navigating a maze in Vienna which had an elevated café in the middle. You then had the pleasure of enjoying a coffee while watching others blundering around. We sought out the old dovecot in the woods before making our way back to the car. Humorously, the ancient burial ground was described on the estate map as a "grave yard" - must be a rather serious place! A nice afternoon out and another slice of local of history to take on board. We drove home via Cardenden where mum pointed out the site of the cottage in which my dad's maternal gran had lived in her final years. Now part of a public park, it was another piece assembled in the genealogy jigsaw that never ends. A couple of weeks later, it was time for a trip to Perthshire proper for a walk around the Fair City and a visit to the Black Watch Museum. The free-entry policy of Doors Open Day saved me having to pay the normal £9 admission charge for the regimental galleries. I had travelled up the M90 by bus, having left the car at the Halbeath Park & Ride facility. I used the weekly pass I buy for commuting to work. Timewise there wasn't much of a difference as the only stop en route was Kinross. I jumped off at the North Inch parkland and wandered down to the River Tay. A set of information panels outline the importance of the river to the town's development and I absorbed the details while ambling upstream to the South Inch green space. The playing fields and golf course were in full swing as I continued to follow the river bank before swinging over towards the museum.

I took a nice photo of the exterior then ventured inside. It was a self-guided tour around the various displays and there turned out to be plenty to see. As expected, I learned a great deal. I allowed myself an hour and a half to complete my visit. The plan was to skirt the town centre on my way back to North Inch, taking in a few more of these information points on the Perth Medieval Trail, as the urban walking route is styled. The roots of the Black Watch regiment go back to the days of Jacobite unrest. Indeed the very name reflects the practice of keeping an eye on the potentially unruly Highlanders. The museum is located within Balhousie Castle, an L-plan tower house overlooking the Tay that was substantially rebuilt from a ruinous state in the 19th century. It was requisitioned by the army during WW2 and became the regimental headquarters for the Black Watch in 1962. The military unit was formally structured in 1739 under the official title 43rd Highland Regiment of Foot. The popular name stemmed from the dark colour of the regimental tartan and their original role to perform a policing role across the north of Scotland. As with almost any army subdivision, there have been mergers with other fighting forces over the years and changes made to the command structure. A major - and highly controversial - overhaul occurred in 2006 when the Scottish parts of the British Army were grouped together as the Royal Regiment of Scotland. The Black Watch was retained as the 3rd Battalion within this super-sized regiment but no doubt a lot of noses were put out of joint. That's understandable as the standing of a highly respected organisation with well over two and a half centuries of history was being diluted. Army politics isn't something I've kept tabs on. I do have a strong interest in the campaigns and battles conducted over the centuries but the actual make-up of the troops has always been very much of secondary importance. That's not to say I wasn't enjoying learning about the finer points of the Black Watch as a regimental entity. The museum does a sterling job of explaining the sequence of military campaigns over the regiment's existence. From the days of Bonnie Prince Charlie, to the colonial wars of the 1800s, the two worldwide conflicts of the 20th century, right up to more recent events such as the Irish troubles and the war in Iraq. I also liked the sections that explained how living conditions had changed for the individual soldier over time. A lot of history unfolds as you wander through the galleries and my self-appointed time slot was just about right. Although I got in for free, it's nice to make a small donation and I purchased a pack of postcards from the museum shop, depicting soldiers in various forms of battle and ceremonial dress. That would satisfy Postcrossing requests for military themed cards or those showing traditional clothing. I wandered back through the centre of Perth, discovering the narrow alleyway Skinnergate was once home to the tanning industry (no, not the orange stuff!) and was sited outside the city walls due to the pungent aromas generated. A great day out. I stopped at the Caley Woods on the edge of Dunfermline on the way home in order to complete a local walk for the website. That, in addition to my Perth City wander. It never ends!

The following weekend was the Doors Open programme for the City of Edinburgh. Some events were online only and others required pre-booked slots, most of which was already sold out. Not to to worry, I pieced together a wander that would take in a historic graveyard and three churches - all very central. I kicked the day off with a regular visit to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery in Queen Street. It was great to make a post-pandemic return to one of my favourite places but I'll write about that in a separate Edinburgh Museums post. I emerged into a sunny forenoon and wandered round to the Old Calton Burial Ground. A mere stone's throw from the eastern end of Princes Street, along Waterloo Place, the cemetery had been recommended to me by my mum who had checked the place out a few weeks previously with my sister. They'd spent a couple of days in the capital city and were looking for sights within easy walking distance of their hotel. Located on the slope of Calton Hill, the burial ground was opened in 1718 and is the resting place of several notable Scots, including philosopher David Hume and scientist John Playfair. It also contains the Political Martyrs Monument - a tall obelisk erected to a group of reformers. Another highlight is the Scottish memorial for the American Civil War. The graveyard was listed on the Doors Open schedule but guests were simply instructed to have a nose around. No special arrangements were in place. I climbed up from street level and was afforded an excellent view of the various buildings and monuments on the top of Calton Hill. A homeless man was reclining on a tomb and unfortunately I had no coins to give him. The pandemic really has obviated the need to carry loose change. Just about everything can be purchased by card. How sustainable is the national network of cash machines? Will they soon go the same way as phone boxes? I reflected that none of this helps the poor guy who was obviously down on his luck. Another kick in the balls to those on the very bottom rung of society. The tomb of David Hume (check the rhyming!) was a grand affair and the Martyrs Monument reached skywards. I was most impressed with the Civil War tribute (erected in 1893) which features a statue of Abraham Lincoln standing on top. The cemetery is a fascinating place to explore and one that thousands must pass every day without venturing inside. The New Calton Burial Ground was established half a mile to the east in 1820. Around 300 residents of the old graveyard were carefully re-interred due to the construction of Waterloo Place cutting right through the cemetery plots. I headed up the Bridges and turned along Chambers Street past the National Museum of Scotland. I went inside for a brief look around the main hall before strolling the short distance to Greyfriar's Kirk. As ever, tourists were milling around the statue of Greyfriars Bobby on the main street, jostling for the opportunity of a selfie with Edinburgh's most legendary canine citizen.

The churchyard is an oasis of calm in a busy part of town and you instantly sense the change of atmosphere upon entering. The church was open to visitors today but first I had a stroll around the spacious cemetery. Burials have been taking place here since the late 16 century and the kirkyard (along with its monuments) is protected by a Category-A listing. It is linked to the history of the Scottish Covenanters who signed the National Covenant in 1638, confirming their opposition to the interference by the Royal House of Stuart in the affairs of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. The Stuart monarchs harboured the belief of Divine Right. Not only did they insist that God himself appointed them as the infallible rulers of the kingdom, they also believed they were the spiritual leaders of the Church of Scotland. This latter assertion was not embraced by everyone. No man, not even a king, could rival Jesus Christ as the spiritual head of a Christian church. This was the nub of the entire struggle. The Scots would have been unquestionably loyal to the Stuart dynasty, but for that one sticking point. For the next half century, until Prince William of Orange performed a bloodless invasion of Great Britain, a great deal of suffering, torture, imprisonment, transportation and executions would ensue. In 1679, around 1200 Covenanters were imprisoned in a field to the south of the churchyard following the Battle of Bothwell Bridge. The area was conveniently enclosed on two sides by the Flodden Wall (a 16th-century fortification) and on the west by the high boundary of George Heriot's School. The open end faced the churchyard and was easily patrolled. When part of this land was amalgamated into the churchyard in the 18th century, vaulted tombs were constructed as was the fashion at the time. Although the captured people had long since departed this earth, the graves became known as the Covenanters Prison.

I went into the church for a look around. Founded in 1620, it was the the first place of worship to be constructed in a post-Reformation Scotland. The modern philosophy of the establishment is stated on its website: "Our aim is to be a welcoming, inclusive community and to respond to local needs in a variety of ways, particularly through our work with the Grassmarket Community Project and the Greyfriars Charteris Centre. The kirk is also an important venue for the arts, a beautiful space for social events and a popular visitor destination"

I was handed a leaflet showing the architectural highlights of the interior. These included the organ, stained-glass windows (the oldest examples in the Church of Scotland) and the eagle lectern. A small museum is contained within the building but it didn't seem to be open today. Much of the activity centred around an exhibition of local artwork. A nice way of tying together a creative project with an event that brings in plenty visitors. I bought a stack of postcards from the shop and exited into the sunshine.

Next stop was just along the road - Augustine United Church on King George IV Bridge. It wasn't opening until 2pm and I passed some time by popping along to Pie Maker and having my lunch on the National Museum steps. I headed back round the corner and wandered down Victoria Street towards the Grassmarket in search of some photo opportunities. Suddenly I noticed a swarm of postcards swirling around my feet in the strong winds. They must have been ripped out of a nearby rack by the gale. Or was it a gift from God? I gathered up a few but they had been damaged in transit, a crime Royal Mail isn't entirely innocent of. As I approached the church, I noticed the building extended below the bridge and there must have been substantial space available on these lower floors. I received a friendly welcome and a volunteer chatted to me about the history of Augustine and also Doors Open Day in general. There were a couple of stands exhibiting further information and I had a wander around. Not a great deal to see here but I did learn some fascinating new facts. The church originally stood on North College Street, now known as Chambers Street. The plot of land it occupied was purchased by the government in 1854 for the sum of £2000. The site was earmarked for the construction of the new Museum of Scotland. The elders jumped at the chance to vacate their dark and dingy premises and move to King George IV bridge which had opened just 20 years earlier. The new elevated thoroughfare spanned two unequal worlds and the Cowgate below was a cesspit of filth and disease. Living conditions of course became more sanitary over time and the whole area around Augustine is now prime city-centre land. The church took advantage of owning so much valuable ground and in 1968 the seating capacity of 1000 was drastically reduced to allow office space to be rented out. This arrangement continues today and is probably an essential stream of income in these days of dwindling congregations. Now B-listed, the building had its spire restored in 2002 following the award of a National Lottery grant. The church does indeed cut an impressive figure in the centre of the bridge. One thing that did surprise me during on my ecclesiastical tour was the active promotion of a welcoming message to minority groups. Given that this includes the LGBT community, perhaps not a demographic traditionally targeted by the clergy, it does indeed indicate the changing nature of the times. A nice touch! It was just another short walk to my next destination - St Columba's by the Castle, on Johnston Terrace.

A smaller church than the two I had just called upon, St Columba's has existed upon its present site since 1846. A hundred years on, slum clearance and the ensuing population movement significantly reduced the numbers of people living in the immediate area and the church was was threatened with closure. In response, the Reverend Mark Kemp made changes which gained St. Columba’s the reputation as the pioneer of liturgical renewal in Scotland. He was responsible for removing the Victorian rood screen, bringing the altar forward so that the priest could celebrate the Eucharist facing the congregation (one of the earliest to make this change), bricking up the East window which was in a state of poor repair and commissioning the mural of Christ in Majesty (still dividing opinion). Painted by local artist John Busby, the mural is indeed an impressive sight and forms a stunning backdrop. A member of the church staff came up to chat with me as I was taking photos. I was directed to a small exhibition of Columba's life. My curiosity satisfied, I thanked the volunteers and went back outside. A very interesting day and beautiful weather for a wander around an old part of the city. I enjoyed a pint in the Bow Bar on Victoria Street - arguably the best traditional alehouse in Edinburgh. The beer is served through classic air-pressure pumps and a varied selection is guaranteed. A strict check-in procedure was in force but as a sign on the door made clear, a lot of the Bow's customers are elderly and not confident about returning to a pub environment. Suitably refreshed, I passed through the busy Grassmarket and on to King's Stables Road with the castle looming high above me. I was plugged into a podcast celebrating the 30th anniversary of landmark Nirvana album Nevermind. Happy days!

Perth Museum

Ever since my dad moved into a care home, I have been making an effort to take mum on day outings over the weekend. She hasn't driven a car in decades and I keep an eye out for events she might find interesting. The town museum in Perth sprung to mind as the place had been closed for refurbishment the last time my folks had headed up there with the intention of seeing the famous log boat excavated from the sands and gravel of the Tay estuary. Then of course lockdown kicked in and when I heard the museum was once again open to the public, I decided it was time for a trip north to the Fair City. We dropped Nicole off at Loch Leven Nature Reserve on the way and battered up the M90. I've always enjoyed a wander around Perth. We used to shop at the Farmers Market once a month and there was always a wide variety of wares on sale.

I had been to the museum a couple of times previously. My first visit was in 2001. I remember that because I was booked on a Ryanair flight to Belfast the next day. Cost - zero pounds. Well, not quite. It was a promotional fare of zilch but the government levied a tax of £10. Still a fiver each way to the Emerald Isle wasn't too shabby a deal. I bought a bundle of films on VHS in an HMV sale over there. How times have changed! I definitely popped into the museum again at some point over the intervening years but can't put an exact date on it. Entry is free and the building is actually one of the first public museums ever opened in the United Kingdom, dating back to 1824. That's the pre-Victorian age! I phoned in advance to verify the Covid restrictions. Mask wearing was required but otherwise you could simply turn up and have a look around. A scan of the website revealed a nice bonus - an exhibition on the Perthshire railways. Oh well, if you must! But first to the Carpow Log Boat. It is located in the first gallery past the main entrance and is impossible to miss. Nearly nine metres long and carved from a single tree trunk, the Bronze Age craft is reckoned to be around 3000 years old. Rivers were natural transport arteries back then and floating down the Tay would have been far more practical than hacking your way through the densely wooded banks. It was found in 2001 and although the bow had decayed, the immersed hull and stern remained in good condition. Fife Council archaeologist Douglas Spiers once explained to me that timber below the surface could easily last for centuries (if not millennia) given the right intertidal environment. Five years later, the boat was carefully lifted from the water and subsequently spent six years at the National Museums of Scotland Centre for Conservation and Analytical Research in Edinburgh. In 2012 it was displayed in Perth for the first time and the redeveloped museum now provides a permanent home for the boat in the Fair City. The entire gallery has been amended to tell the story of the local area, guiding visitors from the Neolithic through the Bronze and Iron Ages, followed by the Medieval and later periods before finishing with modern day Perth. It was indeed fascinating to take all this information onboard and we spent a significant amount of time browsing. I do read the majority of information panels in museums. I guess that makes me a textual as well as visual learner. I like the summary they provide. I don't religiously examine every small explanation in a display case. Got to draw the line somewhere otherwise you'd be there all day.

Then it was into the hallowed halls of the railway exhibition with tales of steam trains from days gone by. Perthshire had an extensive network of lines running across the county. Much of this was lost in the 60s and the temporary exhibition looked at many of these forgotten routes, along with the main rail corridors that pass through the Big County today. Regarding the strapline on the promotional poster, it should be pointed out that Perth & Kinross is a current administrative area that oversees the whole of Kinross-shire and around three quarters of traditional Perthshire. The missing chunk lies within the boundaries of the Stirling Council Area (which does not resemble historic Stirlingshire). Additionally, the southern tip of Perthshire is governed by the Council Area known as Clackmannanshire. Bear in mind that the present Council Areas were established in 1996 and are tasked with providing local services. The traditional counties go back many centuries and massively pre-date any forms of what we now term local government. It is of course completely incorrect to equate P&K Council with Perthshire, on two obvious fronts. Much of the confusion stems from naming some of the new councils after the old counties which they don't usually align with. To be fair to the museum, their hands were probably tied as the funding would have been awarded from the council budget. To give credit where it's due, parts of the display did cover old Perthshire stations such as Callander and Balquhidder now administratively outwith the Big County. The exhibition presented a good overview of the past and present railway system. Branches to places like Bankfoot and Aberfeldy were always living on borrowed time in the post-war years due to declining demand and the coming of the motorway network. Indeed, many minor routes lost their passenger services a good 10 to 30 years before Richard Beeching came along to put the boot in big style. Surely one of the craziest decisions (ironically not a Beeching cut) was the axing of the direct connection between Edinburgh and Perth (via Kinross) in 1970. A couple of years later, the M90 emerged upon a portion of the line near the tricky Glenfarg terrain. I think that tells us all we need to know. Another major casualty was the ancient market town of Crieff. Sitting in the centre of Scotland and once served by several railways, it hasn't seen a train in decades. I once attended an excellent talk on the town's lost transport links at the local high school. It was with mixed feelings that I moved on to the remaining galleries. Pleased to have learned more about the iron road within Perthshire but sad that so many lines were kicked into touch that could have served a useful purpose today.

I had a good look around the wildlife exhibits, along with the selection of paintings with a local theme. I was instantly drawn to a scene depicting life on the North Inch (pictured right). Painted by Alexander Duff Robertson, the image shows Perth from across the Tay, with Smeaton's Bridge (built in 1771) clearly visible. I love the busy feel of the artwork. A snapshot of a typical day on the river. It's a timely reminder that Perth has a strong maritime past. Despite the undeniable presence of the Tay, we tend to think of the town/city as an inland destination reached by motorway, rather than it's status as a port. The river is tidal in these parts and Perth Harbour is still trading. Tucked away from the main roads, the docking facility is ideally suited to the handling of barges up to 100 metres in length. Nearby connections to the national rail and motorway network enable goods to be shipped onwards in a relatively seamless manner. In 2019, the biggest vessel to be seen in the Fair City for a decade delivered a consignment of fishmeal. We left the museum thoroughly satisfied with our experience and rounded off the day with a stroll along the waterfront. Information panels are spaced at regular intervals outlining the importance of the Tay in the Fair City's development. I had also noticed the next exhibition to arrive at Perth Museum would focus on the Roman frontier in Scotland. A return visit would have to be arranged. Nicole and I duly rolled up a couple of months later to learn more about this period in history. Despite several waves of attempted invasion, Iron Age Scotland was never fully conquered by the Romans. This was in stark contrast to southern Britain being settled for 400 years.

Titled Romans: Edge of Empire, the exhibition explored what life was like for Roman and Celtic peoples on the north western edge of the vast political terrain. The story involves global and local concerns. Accounts of interaction between invaders and natives in a time where history was not recorded as assiduously as is the case today. Entry was again free and I was immediately drawn to the large map showing the extent of Roman territory in Europe, Asia and North Africa. It was obvious the whole sphere of influence centred around the sea and major rivers. This would have enabled the rapid movement of soldiers and goods. In Scotland, the Antonine Wall was a well-defined turf frontier but several sorties further north were launched, although this never resulted in permanent conquest. Details of Roman camps in Perthshire were given, along with (often hazy) accounts of conflict on largely uncharted ground. I found the exhibition worthwhile and it's good to challenge the notion that the Romans built walls and stayed firmly on their side of the boundary while the savages roamed free on the other. A most enjoyable afternoon and I'll have to watch out for future events at this gem of a museum.