Return of the fanzine

I've always been an avid reader of music magazines and still buy three print titles on a regular basis: Classic Rock, Planet Rock and Rock Candy (anyone see a connection?). I've read every copy of the first two publications and in fact have had a subscription to Classic Rock for many years. I discovered Rock Candy around 10 issues in and have now started the process of ordering back issues to fill in the gap. It is a purely retrospective mag but no doubt that's a winning formula as plenty 40 and 50-somethings love looking back to the glory days. Classic Rock and Planet Rock also feature contemporary content so overall I'm exposed to a healthy mix. I've recently added the German periodical Good Times to my stack. Again, it majors on the rock scene from the 60s to the 90s. I picked up a copy on holiday there and now obtain single issues via their website.

The enforced stay-at-home situation during the Covid crisis meant I had plenty of time to catch up on reading and devour new material. Of course, life continues to get in the way and you never quite accomplish everything you've planned. Such as writing this blog, to which I'm returning after creating the intro a while back. Sadly since then, Planet Rock Magazine has ceased publication although the radio station continues to be a success. I listen during my work commute and whenever I happen to be in the car alone. Sometimes I switch to Radio 5 Live or Radio Scotland - but only if something major is happening in the real world. Otherwise it's classic tunes for me behind the wheel. My own private space with my favourite soundtrack. It helps keep you sane! I guess there simply wasn't the demand to sustain Planet Rock Magazine beyond the 20-odd issues that were published. Classic Rock hit a rough patch a few years ago when the new owners gambled heavily on a digital platform that didn't pay off as expected. Thankfully the old publishers bought it back and it continues to roll off the press every month. Lockdown saw me switch to digital format for my train magazines. My iPad is the perfect size for reading and I'm quite happy to use both modern and traditional methods. I also browse the Radio Times on screen. However my rock literature remains steadfastly on paper, hugely befitting of the dinosaur status people often bestow upon my listening habits. I don't keep the old magazines for the simple reason they take up an increasing amount of space and - besides - how often would you actually go back and re-read them? Particularly in the days of the ubiquitous internet. In the late 80s I pored over RAW Magazine and bought it from the first issue. I liked the fact it had a broader focus than Metal Hammer and Kerrang, which were almost exclusively concerned with heavy metal. I stacked my mags in a corner of my bedroom and they were eventually moved to the garage before being thrown out. Mind you, had I kept them I could probably have flogged them as a job lot on eBay. So far I have discussed the professional side of music journalism. There was - as a useful counterpoint - a plethora of fanzines in the 80 and 90s. They ranged from photocopied hand-stapled sheets to glossy brochures. The first such publication I remember reading was the Black Sabbath Appreciation Society.

The Sabs were going through a difficult period with guitarist Tony Iommi the only man left standing from the original line-up. Various musicians drifted through the ranks from 1984 onwards but by the end of the decade the personnel appeared to have solidified. The addition of power house drummer Cozy Powell gave the band a much needed kick up the posterior while Tony Martin was a fine singer. The recruitment of the ever dependable Neil Murray on bass completed the jigsaw and Sabbath were now back in business with serious musical muscle on display. They would have to claw their way back up from the basement however as the public had lost interest, Meanwhile, former frontman Ozzy Osbourne was now a superstar in his own right. The re-jigged outfit released Headless Cross in 1989 to largely positive reviews and hit the promotional trail. I remember listening to an interview on the Radio Forth Rock Show and the group sounded genuinely hopeful. I recall Powell saying he had scratched a few ideas together on a cassette (remember them?) for the initial rehearsals and enquiring whether Iommi had any potential guitar parts. "Oh, you mean riffs?" replied the affable Brummie in his trademark languid drawl, only for the guitarist to pull two sports bags out of his car stuffed with tapes. Iommi is legendary in heavy rock circles for being the heavy riff master. He conjures up these memorable musical phrases, seemingly at the drop of a hat. I did enjoy the album although I felt side two (yes, music used to have a break) meandered a bit. I went with school friends Chris and Paul to see Sabbath perform at the Edinburgh Playhouse. It was my second ever gig, following Iron Maiden the previous year. An excellent show although the theatre was half full at best. The band apparently did sufficient business across Europe to keep the ship afloat and Tyr was released in 1990 (although the USA didn't want to know). The BSAS magazine grew in stature and seemed to have plenty access to the band. In those pre-internet days, management would have utilised the distribution network of the fanzine to give bands exposure. Plus someone else was doing all the typing! Not a bad arrangement. I received a few issues before Sabbath's career took an unexpected turn. Cozy broke his leg in an equine accident and Iommi surprised everyone by reforming the early 80s line-up with Ronnie James Dio at the helm and original bassist Geezer Butler back in the fold. This incarnation split acrimoniously first time around and perhaps the reunion was doomed to exist on borrowed time. The Dehumanizer album was respectable enough and the tour enabled the band make progress in America. It all fell apart after a year or so but in some ways proved to be a springboard to getting back with Ozzy and the associated cash benefits. In between original band outings, Iommi and Butler did actually hook up with Dio once more under the moniker Heaven & Hell - playing songs exclusively from that line-up. The album Better The Devil You Know was excellent and Ronnie sang wonderfully aged 66 on the live date I saw. Tragically the frontman died of stomach cancer during a real resurgence in fortunes. As we all know, the Sabs roped in Ozzy once more (or vice versa) to bow out with the album entitled 13 and a string of massive shows. It's certainly swings and roundabouts in the world of heavy metal! I'm not entirely sure whatever happened to the fanzine. My guess is that it suffered from a lack of material after no longer having the ear of the band's management and record company.

I've long been a big fan of UFO - a classy British hard rock outfit who have been around since 1970. The peak periods were with German guitarist Michael Schenker but the albums with Paul Chapman and Vinnie Moore on axe duties are worthy additions to any collection. Bassist Pete Way was the wild showman on stage but the gaffer of UFO has always been singer Phil Mogg, the only man to appear on every release. Undoubtedly one of the great British hard rock singers, Mogg is also also a clever lyricist, writing - as one magazine put it - tales of loners, gamblers and vagabonds. The band recently called it a day when Phil - now in his 70s - felt it was time to finally retire. Way and Chapman died over the last couple of years, as did rhythm guitarist and keyboard player Paul Raymond. What a legacy they have left behind! As you might expect, UFO had countless ups and downs over a career lasting almost half a century. Back in the mid 90s things were on an upward curve as Schenker had rejoined the band and the resulting album Walk on Water was excellent. Touring now involved theatres and larger clubs but the band were no doubt making a good living - a state of affairs maintained until the end, although - somewhat predictably - Schenker bailed in controversial circumstances at the turn of the century. You often hear people say UFO should have been bigger but they did have a lot of success over the years, including doing rather well in America in the 70s and early 80s where they played with just about every famous group of peers you can name. The fanzine - Misty Green & Blue - was run by a bloke called Mike Pincher from County Durham and the first issue came out around 1994. Nobody aside from a handful of nerds was online at this time and when a 'zine dropped through the letterbox you hungrily consumed the content to find out what your favourite bands were up to. The situation would soon change but for a while Misty Green & Blue was my insight into the world of UFO. I think Mike literally created it in his own bedroom but band members came on board in subsequent issues and willingly gave interviews. Concert reviews were also sent in from around the world. The mag seemed to peter out after a handful of issues, probably because surfing the web was rapidly becoming a mainstream activity and you could suddenly read about a gig from the night before, never mind three months ago. I've never tried to look Mike up on social media. Perhaps I should try and find him to say thank you for the memories.

Another publication I subscribed to in the 90s and 00s was the Free Appreciation Society - brainchild of Dave Clayton from Nottingham. The magazine was first published in 1979 and is still going strong! Free of course are known by every man and his dog for their 1970 smash hit All Right Now. They recorded six albums between 1968 and 1973 and were still teenagers when their professional career began. Initially adopting a blues rock sound, Free quickly matured into a melange of styles. Alongside the chest-beating rockers you had slow and thoughtful numbers. Paul Rodgers was - and still is - one of the best vocalists ever to walk this earth. Bass player Andy Fraser was a virtuoso with strong writing skills and drummer Simon Kirke had an intuitive feel for what a song needed in terms of percussion. Finally on guitar was Paul Kossoff - a gentle but ultimately troubled soul who could wring emotion from his Les Paul. Four very talented guys. Despite international success, the band was over by 1973 (having already broken up once and reformed). Fraser and Kossoff were by this time no longer present. The former due to musical frustration and the latter tragically torn apart from heavy drug use. Kossoff would die just three years later on a transatlantic flight at the shockingly young age of 25. An incredible waste and I had always assumed he succumbed to the temptations available to a wealthy musician. Yet I read a report of how he would regularly get out of his head long before the band were well known. Are some people hardwired to self destruct? The other guys partied hard but learned to reign it back in. The way it should be. It seems Koss was destined never to reach middle age, let alone grow old. How utterly sad. Rodgers and Kirke achieved stadium success with Bad Company while Fraser was in demand as a songwriter. I met Andy after his band played in Kinross around 2012. He was happy to chat to fans at the bar and sign merchandise. When I introduced myself as a fellow clansman, he told me some of his family history which involved slave plantations in British Guyana (he is mixed race). His parting cackle was "yes, the Frasers were a real bunch of dirty fuckers!". The magazine covered all bands with a Free connection in the ranks. Filling pages when not much is happening is a challenge for editors and Dave would sometimes write about separate outfits he admired. I don't recall why I let my subscription lapse. Probably because I was cancelling certain luxuries during a period of belt tightening and I never got around to reordering. The overwhelming amount of data on the internet in many ways rendered fanzines a thing of the past. I also subscribed to the Deep Purple Appreciation Society for a while but it eventually migrated to the web. With the imposition of Corona lockdown in 2020 and all the free (no pun intended) time at home it entailed, I found myself taking an interest in all things postal and I decided to see if the old FAS was still a going concern. I found Dave's blog which he periodically updates with information that didn't fit into the magazine format, as well as relevant media links. The printed issues were readily available and I emailed Dave to ask how much I should send via PayPal for the latest copy. He suggested that a three-magazine package offered better value and I could add a back issue or two to that deal. I decided to start with the current publication which contained a massive retrospective article on the Bad Company albums of the 70s. It duly arrived a few days later and I was back in the fold.

Dave often outlines where the FAS is headed in his two-page editorial and it transpired he was in the process of intricately charting the formation of Free and minutely detailing the bands catalogue, looking at myriad album and single releases across the global sales territories. He also indicated this would definitely be the final trawl through the band's history and thereafter the prospect of winding up the Society would loom on the horizon. He's been at it since 1979 and has written more words about these musicians than any other person on the planet. I was pleased to hear the British Library now file copies of the FAS mag so it will be there for musicologists to study for evermore. It certainly seemed I'd come back on board at an interesting time! The Bad Company themed issue I'd received was just a stop gap while the next instalments of the Free backstory were being compiled. Further magazines arrived a couple of weeks apart. One was full of previously unseen onstage pictures of the band while the other was a bumper sized affair which required extra stamps to be stuck on the envelope! An impressive piece of work and I'm hoping the next volume appears before my Christmas holidays as I'll be looking for things to read over this stay-at-home celebration. I enjoyed the material so much, I decided to take out a couple of back-issue subscriptions to fill in the parts I'd missed. Dave seems to have heard just about every session Free ever recorded in a studio. I believe he previously worked on compilation sets for the band's label, Island Records. As he says, the only true way to discover everything that's out there is to spool through the magnetic tapes. Each and every one. A personal gripe of Dave's is the fact that Free don't have a collector's box set on the market which features embryonic versions of classic songs, rare B-sides, tracks that didn't make the final cut etc. Instead, only standard "best-of" CDs are churned out and he feels this cheapens the legacy. Many other classic rock bands have lavish retrospective packages available for hardcore fans to purchase, but not Free. Such a project was on the cards but it seems the band members themselves put the kibosh on it - asking who would want to hear ten versions of All Right Now? Dave counters by saying the art world would be much poorer if we were deprived of Da Vinci's sketchbooks. True fans know that a demo version is not the finished article but it can be fascinating to hear the stages of development and listen to your favourite musicians at work. A real insight into the creative process. Of course the original albums are still available in their untouched form. Dave questions whether the surviving members of Free truly appreciate what their audience would like to hear. There's also the matter of these elaborate box sets selling for a premium price!

I'm enjoying the old-school method of receiving printed material through the post. I even got my cheque book out for the first time in God knows how long and processed my next subscription by sending off my remittance with a couple of SAEs (that's stamped addressed [to yourself] envelopes for our millennial readers). The subscription fee does actually cover return postage but I like to help out a little by taking that strain. I also discovered the back issues were all listed by Dave on eBay and priced at £4.30, including shipping. Buying them singly would actually work out slightly cheaper than combining three of them in a subscription deal. It also meant I could pick them off at times of my choosing. At the end of the day, if a few quid filters into the FAS coffers in exchange for unsold publications presumably lying in a box, it can only be a good thing, however I do it. I actually found it very interesting to work backwards through the booklets. Obviously a retrospective article on an album or tour from 1972 can slot in anywhere but the FAS very much concerns itself with current updates on the various personnel and any projects in the pipeline, not to mention the constant stream of back catalogue reissues and compilation sets to contend with. Then there's the material on other bands. For instance, I learned there was a planned trilogy of books on UK metal heroes Budgie and - as I write - two are available for purchase. I love a bit of Budgie and among the bludgeoning riffage you have softer numbers like Parents (superb song - check it out!). Tony Bourge is almost a guitar cousin of Black Sabbath's Tony Iommi, constantly coming up with those great heavy guitar parts. His departure left a huge hole but the band did reinvent themselves for the 80s with the excellent John Thomas. A book about Budgie is a bit left field and without the fanzine I might never have heard of its existence. Inevitably I reached the point where the literature covered the death of Andy Fraser. He passed away at the age of 62 and had been battling AIDS for some years and was quite open about this. The news did come as a bit of a surprise as he was clearly active in terms of touring, recording and running his own record label. He also released his autobiography (one of the first books I ever read on my Kindle) and seemed to have finally found his niche in the 21st century. Modern medication seems to give those with HIV a good chance of a normal life span but Andy didn't get his three score and ten. Dave's professional relationship with Andy had been through the mill over the years but the two of them had largely settled their differences. Occurring at roughly the same time was the death of the elderly gentleman Dave had been caring for in a full-time capacity. Issue #134 was therefore dedicated to John Hutton, with Dave writing a wonderfully moving piece about his old buddy. He finished with a quote from polar explorer Robert Falcon Scott, who during his final expedition left a letter to his dear friend, the novelist J.M Barrie. Scott was stranded in the frozen land and knew full well he was going to die. He wrote "I never met a man in my life whom I admired and loved more than you, but I never could show you how much your friendship meant to me, for you had much to give and I, nothing"

The early editions of the fanzine have long since sold out but I'll be able to work back to the point where I signed off first time around. It will be interesting to note how the emergence of the all-pervasive social media is portrayed in the pages. I don't think Dave himself uses any of that except for YouTube and trusty old email. A music historian simply can't ignore YouTube, given the amount of live recordings and rare material on the platform. As previously stated, the FAS does have a presence on the web but the blog is deliberately kept basic. Dave points out there are members who don't surf the net with confidence or don't use it at all. Apparently the only other rock fanzine left standing is "Tight But Loose" - dedicated to Led Zeppelin. I'm sure I ordered a copy or two back in the day and editor Dave Lewis is still bashing them out. He prints a limited amount of each issue and when they're gone, they're gone. Incredibly, I've seen old copies on eBay listed at £60 per mag. Thankfully my delving into the FAS archive is substantially cheaper! Printed matter will be in demand for a long time yet but there obviously isn't the plethora of titles there once was. The FAS offers a publication people actively seek out and each issue is a stand-alone piece of music writing that can be enjoyed by anyone at anytime. Newsletters and updates that were previously posted out have largely gone down the email or PDF route. Completely understandable as a first class stamp costs almost a quid - and that's per member. Anything bigger than A5 and you're entering large letter dimensions with the accompanying price hike. I enjoy sampling media old and new and long may that continue.

Update - The indefatigable Brian Tawn is still bashing out his Hawkwind fanzine.

Local Exploring

Spring was finally in the air. It was a fairly nippy Sunday morning but the sun was streaming down and too nice a day not to go out somewhere. The Corona crisis was mounting and as I type - a couple of days later - it has exploded again, with the government advising against all non-essential travel and to avoid social gatherings. My mum and sister were coming to our place for dinner on the Sunday evening to help us polish off the goose that had been sitting in our freezer since Christmas. This necessitates a lot of preparation in the kitchen which would keep us busy for much of the afternoon. I decided therefore to pop out for around an hour to tick off a local location.

I opted for trusty old Devilla Forest. I've been here countless times over the years and have sought out the historical secrets contained within - not to mention the mythical heritage. One place I'd never fully investigated was Bordie Castle, which actually stands outside the forest on the other side of the A985 and is now incorporated into a farm steading. The roadside location and lack of suitable parking means the castle ruins are best viewed from the edge of Devilla. A rough track leads off the far end of the waymarked Red Squirrel Trail through a clump of trees to a stone dyke marking the forest boundary. The structure is visible across a field at a distance of 100 to 150 yards. The Canmore website is the online catalogue of Scotland’s archaeology, buildings and industrial & maritime heritage. It describes Bordie Castle (also known as Bordie Farm Tower) as "the remains of an L-shaped, 17th century house which was three storeys and an attic high. The part still standing was once a wing. The blackened appearance of some of the stones gives the impression the building was burned at one time. A few windows and a fireplace may still be seen". I had stood at this viewpoint before but was hindered from taking meaningful pictures due to the sun shining from behind the tower directly into my face. Today I decided to cross the pasture land and perform a closer inspection.

I heaved myself over the ancient dry stone wall - marvelling at the solidity of its construction. Truly a wonderful art. The grassy field was deserted and conditions agreeable underfoot. I made my way to the opposite fence where I was able to photograph the structure from the other side of the main road. The sun was shining at an angle across my vision which wasn't too intrusive and provided enough illumination to lift the image out of silhouette. There are a number of tower houses along this stretch of the Inner Forth. The condition varies from the fully restored and National Trust owned Alloa Tower to the ruined stump here at Bordie. Not a great deal to look at but it's a historical structure on my own patch and therefore well worth a gander. I retreated back into to forest, passing the Standard Stone as I hooked up with the official path. A flat rock outcrop with two oblong cavities, the stone is said to mark the position where the Scottish Standard was raised prior to the Battle of Bordie Moor in 1038. Legend says Duncan's forces were defeated by the Danes although some scholars insist the conflict is mere fiction and the stone is more likely to have served as the base for wooden gallows or is simply a parish boundary marker. I'm prepared to buy into the battle tale as it adds to the mystery. I completed the circuit around Loch Bordie - shown in all its spring glory in the top photo on this report. This was also the location where I completed my 1000-mile walking challenge in 2016, although the backdrop was an icy one on this occasion. I completed my target within the allowed year and was proud of myself for sticking to the task. It's one I'm unlikely to repeat as becomes a bit of a chore clocking up miles on a daily basis to maintain the quota. Especially as some of this takes place in darkness and on uninspiring routes after work.

Mission accomplished, I returned home with a few nice photos for Facebook and my daily Instagram posts. The day before had also been a fruitful one with the camera - although unintentionally so. Nicole and I had wandered up the track towards towards our local farm shop and it's often a good place to see birds. I landed lucky when a petite little pied wagtail landed on a nearby gate. These little fellows pop up in myriad locations and are unsung heroes of the bird world. Some deserved recognition came this guy's way when I put him on Instagram. Over 600 likes flooded in - my personal best so far. You don't need hugely expensive equipment to take appealing photos of our feathered friends. Catch the eye and have the bird in an interesting pose or location and you're more than halfway there. We drove along to the far end of Torry Bay and saw dunlin among the usual wading suspects of redshank and curlew. Unfortunately the conditions had dimmed and the birds were just a little too far out of camera range. Another species to tick off the year list though! As we made our way back to the car, Nicole received a phone call from our cleaning lady, informing us that her son had developed symptoms of Corona Virus. The disease had started to take hold across the nation and as I type - less than a week later - the government measures have been ramped up significantly. Who knows where this is all going?

We are following government instructions and distancing ourselves socially as much as possible until the outbreak subsides. I'm at work as I write but the school is closing to pupils today. I have to report after the weekend to see what duties are being lined up for us. I'm incredibly fortunate to have a secure salary and it must be a very worrying situation for those who will have to spend a period without pay or - even worse - lose their job altogether. We arrived home after our walk and spotted an unusual garden visitor through the kitchen window. A yellowhammer was pecking at some spilled seed on the lawn. Daylight was failing and I had to shoot through the glass panel on the back door but I managed to get a reasonable picture. A bit grainy for the 'Gram perhaps. Struggling it's way towards 200 likes on the social media platform. It's surprising how the simple act of screwing a bracket to a fence and suspending a couple of feeding stations drastically increases the number of birds in the garden. Scattering a handful of food on the ground also attracts visitors. Having new windows and exterior doors fitted has transformed our little kitchen into a private bird hide. The Corona situation flared up a few days later and we now find ourselves living in very strange times. Life has indeed changed beyond all recognition and who knows when even partial normality will be restored. I experienced bouts of coughing and generally felt yucky over a weekend - forcing me down the self isolation route (and 14 days confinement for poor Nicole). We are indeed blessed to have an income during this period of uncertainty.

My first post-housebound foray was along the edge of the fields behind our house, following the course of the freight railway which has pretty much been mothballed since the closure of Longannet power station. Summer steam specials and occasional stock movements seem to the the only discernible traffic these days. Talk persists about a passenger connection to Alloa but the months continue to slip by. I have of course walked around Cairneyhill many times but for some reason hadn't taken this particular route before. The ground was dry underfoot and I passed through a narrow strip of woodland unhindered. I negotiated an old stone wall easily enough but the firm soil now gave way to a morass. Stepping on clumps of grass enabled me to largely avoid the boggy conditions but I had little appetite to press further. Besides, I had found what I was looking for - a closer view of Pitfirrane castle which can be seen in the distance when driving through Crombie on the A985. The old tower house now serves as the clubhouse for a local golf course and yes I could have simply walked in off the main road through Crossford. However I like this shot of the castle standing among the trees and the foliage nicely conceals the surrounding car-park and low-level extensions to the building. Dating predominately from the 15th century, the castle was the seat of the Halkett family until 1951. Dunfermline Golf Club took over the premises, laying out a new course across the estate grounds.

Yellow was again a prominent colour the following day as I set off on another excursion. I left the house on foot as government advice is to make only essential car journeys. Local exercise is permitted once daily, either alone or with other people from your household...for now at least! I decided to follow the core path along the Torry Burn to the coastal village of the same name. I had previously walked many times to Torryburn but always by the shortest route along the pavement. The path was a little muddy in places but otherwise perfectly passable. Wild daffodils were growing in abundance and the morning sun was out, although a chill hung in the air. As I entered the village, I paused for a closer look at the parish church and attached graveyard. There has been a place of worship here since the 1600s and the gravestones reflect this. I saw a grey squirrel running around. In fact I'd encountered a couple of them in the woods as I walked in. The poor animal can't help the fact that humans imported it from North America but it's a shame so many reds have been pushed out of their native habitat (the two species do not co-exist). Fortunately the red still has a healthy presence in Fife and many other parts of Scotland. Down south it's a completely different story. There were a few quirky motifs on the graves and I always enjoy having a look. The skull & crossbones merely symbolise mortality, not plague deaths as some folk assume. Trade graphics are also fairly common. I even found a stone displaying a carved face!

I pushed on to Torry Bay where the tide was far out. Nicole and I often come here to check out the birdlife and today I spotted a solitary curlew wandering among the rocks. I walked past the watery grave of condemned "witch" Lilias Adie whose story I have chronicled elsewhere in my blog. The streets were deserted with only the occasional dog walker or cyclist in evidence. Virtually no road traffic. The one bus that passed had nobody on board. It was early and the clocks had changed the night before but I had never seen things so still on a bright morning. The social distancing message really has filtered through to the masses. Being forced to explore purely on foot for a while means I'll probably end up checking out several places close to home that I either hadn't bothered with before or had stuck "on the list" because there was somewhere more appealing to drive to. Every cloud and all that. The village of Torryburn merges into Newmills with the latter sitting higher. I turned into the grounds of the old Torrie Estate, the access road gaining more height and offering fine views back across the firth. Photos of the original Torrie House reveal it to be an enormous Gothic pile but fire and dereliction led to the property being rebuilt in reduced form. Partially obscured behind huge metal gates, the new house nonetheless looks an impressive dwelling. Behind me was Loch Roy - something of a misnomer as it's absolutely tiny!

I posted a picture of the "loch" on West Fife Woodlands and several people said the water was also known as Torrie Pond locally and previously covered a larger area. Overlaying the Victorian OS maps on today's landscape appeared to confirm that theory. Group organiser Ronnie Collins also pointed out I could head around to the other side of the house where the walled garden was still intact. I didn't read that comment until I got home but it will give me an excuse to return. In fact I've already concocted a walk that will also take in the Inzievar Estate on the opposite side of the A985 - a road known around these parts as "the bypass" - all westbound traffic previously had to pass through Torryburn and Newmills en route to the Kincardine Bridge. Must have been interesting in the days when Scotland could pull well over 100,000 fans at Hampden. No motorways either. I turned tail and began the trek home. It's amazing how quickly you lose your walking fitness after a spell of forced inactivity. A process no doubt accelerated as the years advance. I half wished I could hop on a bus but I'd agreed with Nicole that public transport is out of bounds for the time being. As for shopping, we have decided to minimise that to essential trips only. No cheeky can of coke for me then! As I negotiated the final uphill stretch I crossed the road for a look into Tuilyies Park, formerly part of the wider Torrie Estate and taken over by Dunfermline Club in 1929 with the mansion forming the new clubhouse. This was of course prior to the operation being moved to Pitfirrane.

Some of the old course contours can still be made out if you travel along the A985 in a bus and look over the landscape - now used for grazing sheep and cattle. Tuilyies is also home to a large standing stone, easily visible from a lay-by next to the main road. I did walk across to view the monolith and its two smaller neighbours a couple of years ago. A core path does apparently run across the field but there were ewes and lambs on site today so I resolved not to disturb them. What I did see was this song thrush sitting on a wall and obligingly posing for a few photos. I think I caught the eye and speckled breast quite nicely. Maybe I should clarify - the term "park" when appearing on old maps didn't always signify the municipal area of today. Quite often it would refer to a hunting ground on a private estate. It was apparently something of a status symbol to acquire your own deer park. I approached Cairneyhill, wandering straight across the big roundabout (the first time I'd done such as thing) as the roads were almost completely deserted. The next week, I was due to work from home - a duty I duly performed but the flexibility of choosing when to upload material meant I could set out on an early morning wander.

I ventured towards the neighbouring village of Crossford, the main road eerily free of traffic. My intention was to take a closer look at Pitfirrane Castle on the (hopefully deserted) golf course. From there I would pass into the neighbouring Keavil Estate, now home to a top class hotel. I entered the grounds of the golf club and simply followed the access road towards the castle, which now functions as the 19th hole - golfing slang for clubhouse. I had never been here before, despite living in the area for 15 years. My only previous dalliance with golf was back in 2007 when I used to head up to Cupar after work for a round with my colleague Gordon. As a member's guest, I paid a token £2 and did make some progress, although it's an incredibly frustrating game. One minute you ping the ball 100 yards and think you're getting the hang of it. Then you try a similar shot and the ball moves six feet! My most memorable on-course moment was chipping to within inches of the cup from off the green, and being applauded by passing Japanese tourists! Another career highlight was taking a lesson with the instructor at my local Cairneyhill club. I chipped into the hole from the fairway, just as Larry Mize did to win the 1987 US Masters in his home town of Augusta! Not a bad shot I said to the coach as the ball bounced on to the green. Not bad? It's in the f**king hole, he retorted.

Pitfirrane Castle is a superb example of a medieval Scottish tower house. It was home to the wealthy Halkett family for several centuries before the entire estate was sold to Dunfermline Golf Club in 1951. No doubt the familiar tale of changing times making it difficult for landed gentry to maintain the lifestyle of old. A course was created within the extensive grounds and the place was deserted today as I wandered through - save for the sound of a lawnmower in the distance. I was able to photograph the building without any cars being in the way. The other side has low-level extensions and obviously not as attractive from a heritage point of view. Open Street Map showed a path leading into the woods at the corner of the course which would take me into the Keavil lands. As I made my way through the trees, I came across the crumbling ruins of a building. I assumed it was either a stable block or lodge and posted the pictures on the woodlands group. Someone hinted I had found the stables for the "big house" - Pitfirrane Castle in other words. This was confirmed by an early online OS map. The rusting, discarded beer and cider cans suggested the place functions as a hangout for underage drinkers nowadays. A little further down, the path took me to more familiar territory. I was standing outside the Crossford Allotments where we'd briefly rented a plot a couple of years ago. I had known at the time the site was a former plant nursery but my recently acquired knowledge of old private estates immediately informed me the allotments sit within the old walled garden of the Keavil grounds. The extensions of the modern-day hotel poked over the coping stones.

I made my way past the front of the hotel which has a health club attached. I took out a short-term promotional membership many years ago but I find working out in a gym incredibly boring. I don't mind a swim and I've accompanied Nicole a few times as a guest over the years whenever she was on a fitness kick. The main house has a colourful history, being requisitioned by the admiralty during WW1 and functioning as a children's home between 1955 and 1978. A local businessman later converted the mansion to a hotel and the Best Western Group added it to their portfolio in the early 90s. The former Keavil Stables are located on the far side of the allotments and are now residential and business premises. The original main drive came in off Waggon Road. The current access road threads back to the main street in Crossford where a small gatehouse stands. It was not uncommon for estates to have more than one entry point and a lodge at each one. I crossed over to the Co-op and did my first Corona-era shop, grappling with the new social distancing measures. Weighed down by two carrier bags, I trekked back to Cairneyhill along the pavement. I figured I might as well buy my produce at the first shop that happened to be reasonably stocked since shelves were being cleaned out across the land. A nice little outing, some unexpected heritage and a chance to tick a local site off the list. I feel there's going to be quite a lot of that happening over the next few weeks.

And so it was I headed back to Crossford the following day. This time the plan was to walk towards the western edge of Dunfermline before looping back round via the Logie Estate. Mostly on paths I hitherto hadn't explored. Down Waggon Road, I branched into a narrow strip of trees which conceal the original alignment of the Elgin Railway. This was a horse-drawn system - one of Scotland's earliest - built to convey coal from inland pits near Dunfermline down to the harbour at Charlestown for onward export. Steam traction was eventually introduced and new track formations were laid. Few people who tread this path will be aware of its industrial importance. The low stone bridge over the burn is a contender for the oldest surviving railway structure in the country. I then had to switch to the road for 200 yards until reaching the bridge carrying the freight line to the (now-closed) power station at Longannet. This is the railway that runs close to my house and it currently sees little traffic. After passing below, I proceeded on to a signed path for Dunfermline which sloped upwards and crossed the heavily overgrown trackbed of the mothballed line to Crombie. The rails and sleepers are now barely visible and the line has been out of use since 1993. It split from the Longannet route at Elbowend Junction whose formation was visible to my left. The Crombie line served the MOD depot and has been physically severed from the national network although the trackbed has been protected and the bridge over the A985 is still maintained. I continued gaining height and dog-legged around a farmhouse. A hare sprang out of the undergrowth and I had an excellent view of the Dunfermline skyline with the abbey taking pride of place. To the west I could make out part of the Ochil Range.

The farm track merged with the B9156 and I took the pavement towards the edge of town. I could see the orange form of Pittencrief House nestled among the trees in the middle distance. It occurred to me that many stately homes were built in a prominent position, no doubt offering the residents a commanding view of the surrounding terrain. Could it also have been the case that placing the mansion to be visible from afar was also a deliberate action? Pittencrief House of course sits at the centre of Dunfermline Glen (officially known as Pittencrieff Park) but the property is currently unused. It formerly housed a town museum but this facility closed following the opening of the showpiece Andrew Carnegie Museum and Galleries in 2017. I had never walked down this road before and planned to cut across the rugby pitches as I approached the edge of town. McKane Park has been the home of Dunfermline Rugby Club for over 100 years. I've never seen the team play but a glance at the web reveals it competes in one of the Scottish regional leagues - which includes Orkney! I bet a few beers are sunk on the annual trip to the far-flung islands. Speaking of which, my closest connection to the rugby set-up over the years has been attending their annual charity beer festival in the Glen Pavilion. It appears the term "club" still applies in the truest sense, i.e. you become a member and take part in the sporting and/or social side of the organisation. Football abandoned this concept long ago.

There were a few pitches marked out around the clubhouse and I headed for the boundary on the far side, hopeful that I could find a way to skirt the fields rather than navigate the warren of streets on adjacent housing estate. It was indeed a simple matter to follow this line towards my target - a farm track that led into the old Logie Estate. It joins the Coal Road - a narrow but busy rat-run parallel to the western edge of Pittencrief Park. As I made my way round I couldn't see an obvious exit from the field and the surrounding stone wall seemed imposing from a distance. Instead I took an informal grass path to the Coal Road and walked the 150 yards to the notorious right-angle bend where the Logie track began. Normally I wouldn't wander along the Coal Road but traffic was almost non-existent due to lockdown and I only had to negotiate a short stretch which had grass verge. The scary section comes after the bend where both sides have a high retaining wall and there is only just enough room for two cars to pass. Trust me, you wouldn't walk here. A pheasant appeared on the parapet opposite me as I joined the road. It was the perfect opportunity to photograph this exquisitely colourful but rather dim-witted game bird. As I wandered into the Logie Estate, I realised I could have stayed on the field course below as there was a gap in the wall and a ramp for tractor access. No matter. A couple of junctions later, I stood at the gates of Logie House - a 16th century country pile.

I've always thought vehicles look rather out of place in pictures of old mansions (unless it's a vintage car) so I chose my angle carefully. I make it a rule not to encroach upon the front lawn when passing by these buildings. It is somebody's home and I wouldn't want a stranger invading my private space without valid reason. I might occasionally bend this restriction by taking a few steps through an open gate in order to reel off a couple of snaps, but that's as far as it goes. What's not obvious to the casual wayfarer is the extent of the gardens to the rear of the house. Aerial maps show a large cultivated area and apparently paid admission is possible at certain times of the year. I must keep an eye out for that. Onward I headed past the old stable block (now residential) to emerge on the main road through Crossford, thus making the excursion a nice circular route for the website. It's surprising just how many large-scale estates can be found in this area, on both sides of the Forth. Various fates have befallen them over the years but that's part of the attraction for me. You always learn surprising things when exploring them and delving back into the history. For example, I had no idea the King's son once lived in a house slightly over a mile from me as the crow files. Prince George, Duke of Kent, was the fourth son of George V and the uncle to the present Queen. A naval man, Prince George was stationed at Rosyth as WW2 broke out.

Pitliver House is a B-listed secluded mansion and George was quartered here with his family during the early years of the hostilities. A somewhat colourful character, his private life seems to have been the subject of much gossip. His eldest son, Prince Edward - the current Duke of Kent - is a familiar face on TV as he presents the trophies at Wimbledon every year. George was tragically killed in 1942 when a military aircraft crashed in the far north of Scotland. He was 39 years old. I had known about the existence of the Pitliver estate for some time as a core path passes the entrance but I'd never ventured inside. I once attended an interesting talk by Robin Sharp at Dunfermline Library entitled "A virtual walk around West Fife" and the theme of the slideshow was the grand country houses in the area. Robin pointed out that you have reasonable access rights to these places and should the main gates be standing open, why not pop in for a look around? I made a mental note to explore some of this heritage. Quite often they are located a stone's throw from a main road. Pitfirrane, Keavil and Logie had already been examined and today I was bound for Pitliver. I strolled along the access road and through the grand gates. I took a snap of the main house by standing on a convenient wall, staying outside of the actual front garden. A handful of charming cottages were located in the far corner. An interesting fact about Pitliver is that it contains a private 9-hole golf course. I'd heard about this before and the greens are clearly visible on Google Maps. Apparently the course was created around the turn of the 21st century but the planned golfing retreat never opened. There was also a story about golf-loving Sir Sean Connery being sounded out about buying the place but it smacked of a publicity stunt. The grass is obviously cared for but to what extent the course is actually played I'm not sure. Back to Prince George for a moment. Golf was probably a waste of a good walk for this dashing figure and instead he established a polo club within the grounds. Had I been alive back then, I might have gone round to watch a few chukkas.

Another estate visit was on the agenda today. The Earl of Elgin is a direct descendent of Robert the Bruce and the family home is the grand A-listed Broomhall House. A core path runs right through the estate and I had walked this a couple of times before but the weather hadn't been conducive to obtaining a decent picture of the mansion. After exiting Pitliver, I took the path eastwards, crossing the former Longannet freight railway on the way. This brought me to Waggon Road outside Crossford and I now repeated a small section of my wander from the previous day. When I met the old railway line to Crombie, I turned off the main path, following the alignment of the old track.

Walking on the sleepers is now impossible due to the level of overgrowth therefore I skirted the adjacent field. I then switched sides at a convenient gap (probably a farmer's crossing) and followed a trail through the woods towards the main road. The railway was now below me in a cutting but I resisted the temptation to climb down and battle my way towards the bridge over the A985. Been there, done that! Got the scratches! Instead I diverged from the tracks, crossed the eerily quiet trunk road and took a dirt track into the Broomhall Estate. The house soon hove into view and I took photos from outside the marked privacy zone. Who knows what treasures are contained inside. I wonder if they ever have an open day to provide a flavour? Mission accomplished, I looped back to the main road and followed the pavement back home.

While scouting for pictures of Pitliver House, an image of a cottage leapt out at me. Where had I seen this charming dwelling before? Ah yes, it had featured in a painting that caught my eye at an art exhibition in Dunfermline Library a few months previously. The work of Limekilns artist Evelyn Bernardi, now resident in France. Up to this point, I hadn't given much thought to whether the cottage might actually exist. Now I had a wee mystery to solve. The image was linked to an estate agent's website and the obvious solution was simply to click through for precise details but this led nowhere. The text tags on the search results categorised the property as being near Pitliver and Limekilns. Evelyn must have painted a local landmark. But where? The cottages at the far end of Pitliver Estate hadn't matched and I was now back at the drawing board. Then I had a brainwave. I could join the Limekilns & Charlestown Facebook group and post my photo of the painting. Bingo! Within minutes, several people had identified it as Easter Cottage, near Charlestown Harbour. I went straight on to Google StreetView and pinpointed the exact location. I had walked past the harbour many times in the past but hadn't noticed Easter Cottage tucked away in a corner a bit further back from the road. It was obviously cherished by locals as a few people said it was their dream home and wished they'd had the means to buy it when it went up for sale recently.

The destination of my next outing was sorted! Back to the pavement alongside the A985, I followed the Fife Coastal Path as it skirted the western boundary of the Broomhall Estate. Charlestown emerged as a planned industrial village in the mid 18th century. Limestone quarrying and salt production were two of the main concerns and it was the latter that had a connection with Easter Cottage, the saltpan manager being housed there. I could easily write a whole blog post on my previous explorations around this village and one day I probably will, or at least weave parts of them into current expedition reports. As I walked alongside the Elgin lands, I hopped over a gate before the beginning of a high stone wall for a nose around. This far corner is pretty much deserted and I followed a path towards a grassy depression surrounded by cliffs. Obviously the site of a former quarry and completely dry. At this moment the sun awoke and illuminated the scene. I was confident of getting some lovely photos of Easter Cottage. It didn't quite turn out like that. I found the place easily enough but the sun had retreated behind the clouds. No matter, I opened the gate and took a few steps on to the path in order to clear the overhanging hedge. The house had now been sold but there were no signs of life as I snapped away. Being early spring, the garden hadn't started to bloom but I was delighted with my pictures and the fact I'd tracked the place down. I recounted the tale on my Facebook page and received a lot of positive feedback. Sometime life imitates art!

On to my scheduled Easter break but there would be no flying out to Germany this year. Instead more local walking would be the order of the day. It was a sunny Monday morning and I set off on a walk to the far end of Culross - five and a half miles away. I planned to take in a few grand houses along the way and turned off the main road as I entered Torryburn. This led into the old Craigflower Estate and amazingly I had never been here before - always instead heading directly for the shore. Tall old trees fringed the access road - a trademark of opulent lands - and I reached Craigflower House, now split into a dozen apartments. The B-listed three-storey baronial mansion was substantially remodelled in 1862 and converted to a private school in 1923. This educational establishment closed in 1979 and a coat of arms is displayed above the main entrance. Newer housing sits behind but I'm not sure if this lies within the old estate confines. How many times had I passed within a stone's throw of the main residence and been blissfully unaware of its existence? On my way in I'd noticed a path leading into denser vegetation. Probably the site of old gardens and a potential future walk. Today I had already made plans and had to push on. I passed through Torryburn and Newmills before branching uphill towards High Valleyfield. The housing scheme here is a council-built mid-20th century affair but the land was formerly part of the sprawling Valleyfield Estate about which I have written a lengthy post elsewhere in the blog. The original entrance pillars are still there. Formerly topped by two stone lions. Where are they now? (Edit - somewhere in Ayrshire).

I turned into the carriage drive leading towards Culross Abbey Mansion House. As is common nowadays, the gatehouse is separately occupied and a sign saying "private" was attached to one of the gateposts. However this is a core path and that gives you the right to stroll straight in. The notice probably predates the path infrastructure. I had been along this way before but hadn't managed to get a decent picture of the house. I was walking along a high ridge and could see over the trees to the Valleyfield ash lagoons in the Firth of Forth. This is a land reclamation project which encircles Preston Island - itself an artificial construct and an industrial marvel of its time. Created by Robert Preston, owner of the Valleyfield Estate for many decades. Read my blog entry for the full story. The core path continues into the grounds of the abbey mansion which contain some spectacularly old trees. The sun was nicely placed and allowed me the opportunity to take well-lit pictures. Commissioned in 1608 by Sir Edward Bruce (brother of George who devised the pioneering undersea coal mine in the village and whose own abode was Culross Palace), the house was eventually completed by their successors and terraced gardens were laid out. A third storey was added and by the early 19th century the property was sold to Sir Robert Preston, lord of the nearby Valleyfield Estate. The house lay unused for a couple of decades until Preston launched a restoration programme a few years before his death at the age of 94.

After more changes of ownership, the grand mansion once again lapsed into a state of standing empty. Dry rot set in and it was more or less abandoned until being reduced in height and made habitable in 1952, following an intervention by Lord and Lady Elgin of Broomhall Estate. It seems to have been fairly common for those country residences to flit between various aristocratic dynasties, probably due to the families being intertwined by marriages over the generations, much in the same way the European Royals were often related in some shape or form. The core paths runs past the courtyard and I noticed an opening in the boundary wall. The last time I walked this way I followed the access road towards the gatehouse but today I poked my head through the unguarded doorway and saw it led straight into the abbey graveyard which is fully accessible to the public. Might as well take a short cut and have a nose around the deserted modern church and ancient monastery. The light was perfect for photographs and I took a few shots around Culross with the intention of using them on the walking website to replace previous inferior pictures. You have to convey the best possible impression! It was strange to see the winding cobbled streets devoid of tourists. They usually arrive by the busload during the warmer months, due in no small part to the village being heavily featured in the Outlander series. I took full advantage of my status as a local out on his exercise ration.

I arrived at the Palace, striking with its bright yellow lime wash. This was the perfect opportunity for a sunlit daytime photo without visitors milling around in the frame. I must confess I've never done the palace tour, despite living in the area for 15 years. Isn't it strange how we neglect attractions on our own doorstep? I do vaguely recall being inside the building at ground floor level when some kind of charity fair was in full swing. As far as I remember I just had a quick nose around, this being long before my serious interest in West Fife history began and the compulsion to document my travels online. I noticed a police car crawling through the village, no doubt on the lookout for groups of people congregating on the green. Being on my lonesome as usual, I attracted no attention. If you had suggested a couple of months ago that we would be holed up in our homes for weeks on end due to a virus outbreak, people would simply have laughed in your face. I stopped to eat my packed lunch and couldn't even watch life go by because virtually nothing was happening. One fellow hard at work was a jackdaw flying back and forth with nest-building material in its beak. It seemed to be basing his new lodgings on the roof of a cottage undergoing renovation. Out came the camera and I managed to capture the construction process.

A stone's throw from the palace is a gated house behind high walls. The nameplate says Balgownie Mansion and there appeared to be a walled garden behind the property. I had always believed that Balgownie Wood - about a mile and a half distant - belonged to the Abbey House Estate. I didn't know anything about Balgownie Mansion. You often spot things on long walks that make you think "hmmm, must investigate that when I get home". Well, I did just that and found out straight away the nine-bedroom property had been on the market recently for over a million pounds and has four and a half acres of private grounds. Quite a pad then! Rudimentary research showed the building functioned as a private school from 1958 to 2003 and had been occupied by the military before that. A rather familiar story was unravelling here. Digging around on the Listed Buildings website unveiled a few nuggets. Possibly built in the 18th century and modified in the middle of the next, the town provost lived in Balgownie until his death in 1934. I'm guessing this is where the occupancy chain ended and the outbreak of war offered a reprieve from dereliction as the armed forces temporarily took control. As I type, I've posted a request for further information on the West Fife Woodlands Facebook page. Hopefully one of the local historians will step in. The house in now a private dwelling and the Outlander aspect was actually used as a selling point in the estate agent's literature.

On the outskirts of Culross is Dunimarle Castle. Built in 1839 upon the site of an older structure, Dunimarle is now in private hands but offers tours on weekends from spring to autumn. We visited the grounds last year for the bargain price of £2 per head. I had intended to return this year to see the inside of the castle but obviously that's not happening any time soon. There is also an old chapel within the estate as well as impressive terraced gardens. The visiting process was an informal set-up with a blackboard informing visitors to phone caretaker and gardener George on his mobile, or approach him as he went about his duties. We duly bumped into the man outside the greenhouses and he took the time to chat. From what I could glean, the castle isn't permanently occupied but used as a getaway location for the owner. Not bad for some! But full marks for granting public access as it doesn't sound as if the custodians need any help in funding George's wages. Nicole and I agreed the superb views over the Firth of Forth from the front garden would make an ideal location for a little pop-up café. To the rear is a beautiful wide green strip lined by giant sequoia trees.

As I passed the bolted entrance gate at street level, I happened to notice a small gap in the wall that might allow me a sneaky peek at Dunimarle from a low vantage point. I was on a stately home themed walk after all and the lighting was ideal. Getting inside the compound was simple enough but in order to approach the fringes of the lawn I would have had to clamber through some dense vegetation and I decided not to bother, or perhaps I'm simply getting too old for that sort of thing (delete as appropriate). In any case, I already had a fine set of pictures from my previous visit. Onward to my final port of call - Blair Castle. An 1830 A-listed classical mansion constructed on a square plan, the current Blair Castle replaced a building dating from the second half of the 16th century and since 1927 it has provided convalescence for those who worked in the mining industry - initially for the counties of Fife, Kinross and Clackmannan, but now on a nationwide basis. It's a walk of a few hundred yards from the main road up to the castle. Typically, the gatehouse is now separately occupied. Renovation work was in progress on some outbuildings - possibly the old stables - and as I made my way round to the mansion I realised it was closed. Not in the permanent sense. I could see the well-appointed dining room through the bay windows. The front door was firmly bolted and my assumption was the place had been temporarily vacated due to the Corona outbreak.

The deserted atmosphere allowed to explore the extensive gardens at my leisure. Plenty of bench seating was provided and it looks like good old fashioned fresh air is still part of the recuperation process. A lovely weeping willow tree stood on the lawn and I sat myself down, preparing for the big return walk. It was mission accomplished and the weather was still beautiful but I longed to jump on a bus as I retraced my steps. Not least because of the uphill section between Torryburn and Cairneyhill and the fact that your fitness slips away remarkably quickly when you spend a lot of time sitting around rather than following your normal routine. Of course there's nothing stopping me from getting a couple of miles in every day but when you find yourself pounding the same paths again and again, the motivation isn't always there. Nevertheless, I had a good workout under my belt and I returned to find my copy of Rock Candy Magazine had been delivered. Time to put my feet up with a cold drink. The next outing saw me scale down my ambition and a trek out to Crombie Point was on the agenda. A total distance of just over five miles. Skylarks were singing as I took the quiet unclassified road leading off the A985 towards the shore. This is part of the Fife Coastal Path, an inland deviation enforced by the presence of the Ministry of Defence base. My first stopping point was the ruins of Crombie Parish Church.

Reckoned to date from the 12th century, the church fell out of use sometime in the 1600s, probably due to the parish of Crombie being swallowed up by Torryburn. The graveyard continued to be patronised and most of the stones visible today are from the 1800s although I did find one inscribed with the year 1747. It's certainly worth nosing around here if you happen to be passing by on the coastal path. A steep descent takes you to the shore and an old relic on this route confused me when I first spotted it a few years ago. I've been an avid explorer of disused railway infrastructure since I was a boy and just down from the church I noticed a couple of stone abutments which I naturally assumed were part of an old bridge. I knew a horse-drawn waggonway had operated in this area in the late 1700s and put two and two together... to get a total of five! The oldest OS map I could find did indeed indicate the bridge but when I presented my findings on the Old Fife Railways Facebook page, I was swiftly disabused. It transpired the crossing was utilised by pedestrians from the adjacent Craigflower Estate to make their way into the church grounds. Yes, the folk from the big house had a direct link to God! As a bonus, I now know what the initials F.B. refer to on a Victorian map. Down at shore level, a gateway in the stone boundary wall provides access to the old estate grounds. Perhaps it also served as the tradesman's entrance!

To digress slightly, Nicole and I explored Craigflower on a separate walk. We passed by the mansion and headed along the path I mentioned earlier in this (ever lengthening) post. The route stuck fairly close to the boundary wall with the interior fairly overgrown. Higher up stood a recently-built residential estate. Eventually we emerged at the gateway down from the church but decided to stay within the estate and took a narrow path heading upwards. This brought us to the edge of the new housing and we walked alongside the garden fences, doubling back at the higher level. I came across this thick clump of leopard's bane which made a nice photo rich in green and yellow. I have recently become a keen observer of wild flowers and am still very much a beginner on the subject. The marvels of modern technology allow you to download an app, photograph the plant and run it through the ID software. It certainly gets you up and running quickly but perhaps the downside is you can bypass the wider reading which would have been necessary in the past. I didn't realise that some flowers have several common names. I suspect this may be a regional thing and the advantage of sourcing the Latin term is that I can easily cross-translate to German if required. I once attended a language evening class where the multi-lingual Belgian tutor jokingly said he gave the Roman tongue a miss because they all died 2000 years ago. Well Hugo, sometimes it must be brought back to life.

The walk along to Crombie Point passes some huge houses, notably the three-storey Witches Tower which has lovely stepped gables and is painted white. It is a reconstruction of the old Laird's House and category-B listed. Crombie Point House sits adjacent to the headland and across the narrow road is a property named the Black Anchor. I'll come back to this in a minute. The pier is now a crumbling rocky ruin but the outline can easily be traced. Constructed around 1750, it handled trade from Bo'ness Harbour across the firth. Just beyond Crombie Point is the MOD base which is off limits to the public. I turned uphill to reconnect with the way I came in and headed back home. I later uncovered a rather interesting tale about Crombie Pier. French literary legend Jules Verne arrived on a steamboat from Granton in 1859. Soaked after a rough crossing, Monsieur Verne sank a few whiskies in the adjacent Black Anchor Tavern. He then set off for Inzievar House on foot. After a short stay, he caught the train from Oakley to Stirling and continued his exploration of Scotland. I already knew Jules Verne had disembarked at Crombie but my Facebook friend Clive Ananda furnished me with further details of the onward journey. Clive also recommended Verne's published account of his Scottish and English travels - Backwards to Britain. The manuscript was rejected at the time and wasn't published in France until 1989, the English translation following a few years later. The book is available in the Fife library catalogue and I'll put in a request as soon as normal lending facilities resume. Funnily enough, when Clive told me about Jules Verne staying at Inzievar House, I had recently conducted an exploration of this old estate just three miles from my home address.

Oakley is a former mining village in West Fife. The nearby Comrie Colliery ceased operations in 1986 in the wake of the infamous nationwide strike. One of the final Fife pits to close. The Dunfermline to Stirling railway opened in 1852 and Oakley had a station on this line. The entire route was closed to passengers in 1968 and the trackbed between Dunfermline and Clackmannan is now a cycleway. It's not unusual for mining villages to exist on the fringes of country estates as the landowners of the time would have been the people with the resources to exploit the underlying mineral wealth in the days before the industry became nationalised. The pictured cross is a memorial erected by the owners of Inzievar Estate and dedicated to those who fell in the Great War. The term Inzievar lives on in the name of the village primary school and a couple of local businesses but at one time it was yet another grand country pile. I sketched out a couple of walking loops through Inzievar Woods - now managed by the Woodland Trust - and hoped to have a look at Inzievar House, now split into separate apartments. It was a warm afternoon and I parked in Oakley, walked under the old railway bridge at the edge of the village and passed through the walls of Inzievar Estate. A handy information point displayed a map of the path network and the first loop took me around a secluded pond, where I spotted a heron. The path gained height and I wandered out to the tree boundary for a magnificent view across the rolling fields towards West Lothian on the other side of the Forth. I picked out the line of the old carriage drive which I'd identified on the maps but now has no direct access to the road. Back I went into the woods which contained a pleasing amount of mature deciduous trees as well as native Scots pine. A healthy mix! On my second circular walk, I took another slight detour to the woodland edge, hoping to catch a glimpse of the big house but it presumably sat out of sight in a dip.

Nothing for it but to seek out the vehicular access route. A short stroll along a minor road brought me to the old lodge (now a private dwelling) and I marched on in. After a short stroll, I could see the house beyond a screen of trees. What I had actually discovered was Old Inzievar House, also known as Fernwoodlea. The other Inzievar - a few hundred yards distant - was built around 1856 and this was apparently the place where Jules Verne stayed overnight. Fernwoodlea has a restored walled garden open to visitors a handful of times during the year. A definite date for the diary once the pandemic fades. I did approach the building for a closer shot but I could see children playing on the front lawn and adults sunbathing. I decided it would be too much of an intrusion for some bloke to wander towards the courtyard waving a camera. Therefore I discretely withdrew. People use this phrase "right to roam" but there are obvious limits. As I was leaving the grounds, I noticed a hare sitting on the road about 80 yards in front of me. This was the first time I'd seen one at a reasonably close distance. On Easter Monday too! Perhaps he was resting after delivering all these eggs. I gingerly pulled out my camera and was well within shooting distance. The only problem was the presence of an overhanging tree which cast a shadow over the hare. I was pleased with my work though!

I got clearer pictures a few days later when Nicole and I spotted a couple of hares in the field just outside Cairneyhill. This was my favourite shot as I managed to capture the eye. We were on our way to have a little wander over the deserted golf course, the far end of which almost reaches our village. As I wrote previously, Dunfermline Golf Club lies within the old Pitfirrane Estate and I had taken the opportunity a few weeks previously to have a look at Pitfirrane Castle which now serves as the clubhouse (or 19th hole if you will). After posting pictures of that expedition online, someone mentioned there was a large walled garden in the middle of the golf course. It made sense, it was a standard feature of grand estates. I located the position easily enough on the old maps. A path once led from the garden to the main road and a set of old gateposts still stand among the vegetation. I would have to check this out sometime. About a week later, I was picking up a prescription from the pharmacy at Crossford. I wandered along to the Pitfirrane entrance and made my way towards the castle. Using my mental picture of the map as a dead reckoning aid, I angled towards where I suspected the garden might be. While there was no playing activity on the course, the greenkeeping staff seemed to be working as normal and were buzzing about on lawnmowers. There were a couple of vans parked in the immediate distance and men were chatting. I decided to withdraw as the area was a hive of activity. I surmised the old garden was probably used for storing vehicles and equipment and generally a hang-out for workers. Best to return after hours.

I vowed to make a return trip during a sunny evening when (hopefully) the course would be empty. In the meantime I had discovered a little path that led through a patch of woodland at the edge of Cairneyhill to one of the tee grounds. Everything was set for a secret assault. A few days later, off I trooped with camera in hand. As I strode across the green expanse, all was quiet. I spotted the odd (dog) walker in the distance but there didn't appear to be any official presence. It immediately became apparent that the golfers did indeed have the pleasure of playing in a lovely setting. A beautifully contoured landscape dotted with mature trees. Never having been deep within the confines, I was also able to join a few dots regarding the local geography. With no pressure of time or surveillance, I was free to wander vaguely in the direction of my target. I came across a large thicket in the centre of the course, protected by a ha-ha. A faint path still ran from a stone gateway across the fairway. This was probably the access track I had identified on the map. I knew the actual garden was further east so I simply worked my way around the boundary of this overgrown compound, whatever it once was. I passed the crumbling remains of a small structure which I'd also spotted on the satellite imagery. Note, a ha-ha is a relatively low stone or turf wall, preceded by a sloping ditch. It's purpose was to act as a livestock boundary while unobtrusively blending in with the surroundings. Eventually I found what I was looking for.

A large opening took me past a couple of bolted storage sheds straight into the garden. It was huge! The walling was perfectly intact and the inner area given over to grass, with a couple of small trees. Naturally, more substantial shrubbery and tree growth spilled over the coping in places. And I was the only person here! I love having the freedom to slowly stroll around these places, taking pictures and absorbing the atmosphere. I guess this was something of a unique occasion, being able to freely access the garden on a warm sunny night, completely unimpeded. After a pleasant stay, I passed through an archway and headed in the direction of the castle. Automatic sprinklers had been set up on the greens and there were a few locals milling around. Obviously I wasn't the only person who had the brainwave to go and explore the hallowed turf which is normally out of bounds. In fact, I've since seen a few pictures on social media of golf course excursions. Pitfirrane Castle is a stunning sight. One of the best intact examples of a Scottish tower house and very distinctive with its yellow limewash. It was the home of the wealthy Halkett family for three and a half centuries before the golf club took over in 1951, moving from the Torrie Estate further west. I've never been inside the clubhouse but I'm assuming the golfers utilise the bar and restaurant on the ground floor, augmented by the protruding extensions.

Perhaps there is office accommodation upstairs but surely a golf club wouldn't require all the available space for administrative purposes? I wonder if any old treasures still lurk within the upper levels? Someone on Facebook mentioned he had previously performed repairs on the building and that the interior was a sight to behold. Tradesmen must have intimate access to all sorts of historic architecture. Should have stuck in with my DIY! I took a different route through the course back to the edge of Cairneyhill. What a spectacular estate this must have been. But the previous home of the golf club was equally impressive as I found out when I explored more of the Torrie Estate. I had previously skirted Torrie House and viewed the building through the tall metal entrance gates. On that expedition I had simply turned around here and headed back home. After the usual Facebook report, West Fife Woodlands organiser Ronnie Collins had said I could also have checked out the walled garden across the road and scaled the adjacent Shaw Hill. On my next visit, I vowed to do just that. Passing the house gates and the tiny Loch Roy in the adjoining field, I continued walking down towards the A985 - almost deserted on this lockdown Sunday afternoon. The estate road took me past a structure in the undergrowth that I immediately identified as an icehouse. Ronnie had previously told me about its existence and it couldn't have been anything else. I had known for some time that icehouses had existed in the days before refrigeration but my first experience of one was a couple of years ago when Nicole and I were exploring a couple of locations on the Clackmannanshire Doors Open Day. After a tour of Clackmannan Tower, we drove north to Alva for a look at the icehouse which had survived intact on the old estate, despite the demolition of Alva House.

I've since discovered many old icehouses but the Alva example is a rather grand affair - described in the council literature as consisting of a large stone-built subterranean heptagonal main outer chamber containing six recesses with stone shelves, allowing for the storage of meat, fish, poultry, fruit and vegetables which extended their shelf life. Indeed we were able to walk into the chamber and view the shelving set into the central column which would have contained lumps of sea ice. This dispelled my vague notion of neat blocks of the cold stuff stacked against a wall. An elaborate set-up for a relatively modest storage capacity. Clearly the preserve of the wealthy. The Torrie icehouse appeared to be built on a smaller scale and - judging by the height of the structure - one probably had to crawl inside on their hands and knees! It was an interesting find and I headed towards the house but couldn't see any evidence of an accessible walled garden. Ah well, perhaps I could approach it from the fields round the back. I crossed the main road and the bulk of Shaw Hill stood straight ahead of me. A farm track wound around the base and another route led off towards some crumbling stonework. I decided to investigate and stepped into - you guessed it - a massive walled garden. Now I understood what Ronnie had meant when he said to go over the road. I thought he was referring to the access road next to the house.

I hadn't really considered that the garden might lie on the other side of the A985! But of course it's a modern addition and the track around the hill plantation was in fact the original route to the big house, branching off the minor road leading to Oakley. I had a wander around and there was some evidence of an additional structure against the north wall - perhaps glasshouses? The ground wasn't overgrown and I'm assuming livestock are sometimes grazed in here. It was completely empty today and the lack of traffic on the nearby A985 rendered the garden a serene location. How many hundreds of times have I driven past completely unaware of its existence? I have since found out about an ornate listed bridge in the far corner that I didn't spot. That's the thing about stumbling across grand extensive locations. You don't always take everything in first time around. The icehouse had been a nice little starter but the walled garden was the icing on the cake. Now for the main course - a slog up Shaw Hill. It's only around 220 feet high but the conical shape has a steep gradient and it's amazing how quickly your fitness falls away when denied most your regular exercise regime. Upwards I plodded, making use of the dense tree cover as hand holds.

Unfortunately the arboreal blanket prevented me from taking any meaningful photos of the surrounding landscape. A fallen tree near the summit made a handy bench seat and I caught my breath before taking a wander around. Twigs were snapping beneath my feet yet a bird appeared to be sitting on the ground unmoved by my approach. As I got closer, I took a few pictures and later confirmed the subject as a stock dove. They nest up high so I can only assume the bird was injured as pigeons and doves normally fly off if you get too near. I made my way back down and returned to Torryburn village. Just as I was about to leave the estate grounds, I decided to hop over a metal gate into a huge grassy expanse. This is part of the house grounds and the area occupied by Dunfermline Golf Club for a couple of decades in the 20th century. My intention was to try and get a discrete glimpse of the house from the rear. I walked for a hundred yards and scaled a slope. The mansion appeared in all its glory. The original building was scaled down following a period of dereliction but the new version remains a spectacular property in its own right. A low wooden fence demarcated the private garden area and I was well clear of this. I took photos from a respectful distance. I noticed somebody tending the plants and decided to push a bit further into Tuilyies Park - the historic name for this landscape.

As I strolled long, I picked out a few golfing relics in the shape of bunkers and tee grounds still forming part of the sweeping parkland. It must have been an impressive course in its day and was designed in 1929 by the legendary Scottish golfer James Braid. A native Fifer, Braid turned professional in 1896 and won the Open Championship five times in the first decade of the 20th century. He later moved into golf course planning and is reckoned to have laid out around 100 facilities up and down the entire UK. His most notable creation was probably Gleneagles, still a top championship course today. Presumably his services didn't come cheap so it does seem surprising that the club upped sticks for Pitfirrane 22 years later, particularly as the members also had the use of Torrie House. Whatever the politics involved, the fact is that Tuilyies Park reverted to pasture and the golf club moved a few miles closer to Dunfermline. Having being based in North Queensferry before the move to Torryburn, perhaps the long-term plan is a clockwise manoeuvre towards finally settling in the ancient capital. Interestingly, Valleyfield Estate also hosted a golf club between the wars (actually called Torryburn) and the distance between the two courses can only have been equivalent to a couple of long holes. I have since ascertained that Torrie House was in poor condition by the 1950s due to a combination of dry rot and rough handling by the military during a spell of occupation.

Torrie House had obviously been built with a sea view in mind. My altitude provided me with a perfect panorama of the Valleyfield ash lagoons. They are part of a land reclamation project using ash from the (now closed) Longannet power station and this was the first time I'd had an unimpeded view of the main lagoon filled with water. One of my favourite Fife Coast photographs. It is possible to walk around the perimeter but the lagoon lies behind a high fenced-off embankment. The route is labelled Preston Island Circular - a misnomer to the uninitiated but there was indeed a man-made island here. It is now surrounded by dry land as the reclamation works have encroached upon the estuary. Preston Island was an industrial project launched around 1800 and was the brainchild of Sir Robert Preston, owner of the Valleyfield Estate. It was an industrial marvel of the time, combining coal and salt production on one coastal site. Read my Valleyfield post for a full account. I headed home, delighted with my day's work and today's expedition laid the foundations for my next wander. I thought I might as well walk the full length of Tuilyies Park from Torrie House to the ancient standing stone at the far end. The monolith is visible from the A985 and accompanied by three smaller boulders. A lay-by allows viewing from behind the field fencing but I had previously walked to the stones from the core path leading off the Torryburn Road (B9037). Sheep usually graze in this corner and I wanted to avoid this route today as I knew lambing season was in full swing.

The initial going was easy enough, strolling through the rolling green contours of the old golf course. I stayed at a lower level as I had already seen the big house up on the ridge. I half expected to meet a fence and eventually came across an obstacle although a narrow gap at the end allowed me to squeeze through without having to resort to climbing or vaulting. Mind you, I'm well used to those techniques. I decided to follow the fence line up the slope so I could look back towards the mansion and also plot a path to the stones in the opposite direction. At one time a carriage drive led all the way through the grounds and this can still be followed, although there are now a couple of farm gates in place. Clambering over such a barrier, I found myself at a cattle feeding station, mercifully free of beasts. Getting to this point had been easy enough but I could see the only way to reach the stone circle involved negotiating a standard barbed wire field boundary. Further ahead, I observed a guy entering the sheep field but the stones lay in the adjacent patch. Onward I strode and the perceived obstacle posed no difficulty as three wooden spars had been built into the fence to form a crossing point. Over I went and it was an easy final leg towards the Tuilyies standing stones. As is often the case with these prehistoric monuments, the origin is subject to conjecture. There are many websites dedicated to the subject and information about even the most obscure standing stones is readily available. Here's a snippet of what I found.

This unusual grouping comprises an 8-foot high cup-marked stone and three additional boulders. The eastern face of the standing stone is covered with vertical grooves due to weathering. The smaller stones sit due south of the large one. They are unmarked and form a triangle with sides 12, 15 and 16 feet across. The four stones do not inscribe a circle but there is little doubt they are the remains of a Bronze Age sacred site. The name "Tuilyies" is a corruption of the Scots word "tulzie" -signifying a fight. The stones are said to mark the graves of chieftains who died here in battle. Quite a few people seem to have paid a visit to the megalith and blogged about the experience. Much the same as I'm doing here, although purely from a walker's perspective. I had already decided against passing through the sheep field and therefore prepared to hop over the fence alongside the A985. I then remembered the core-path map indicated a route underneath the main road. I scrambled down a gully and found there was indeed an underpass. It looked as if this facility was now unused by tractors as the terrain on my side looked impassable to all vehicles. I went through and climbed the embankment to emerge on the opposite roadside. I could have stayed below and followed the farm track but decided to take the most direct route home along the A985. Not the nicest wander but the road was virtually silent and I was able to walk on the tarmac most of the way.

Whenever I find myself walking a stretch of trunk road I'm usually disgusted at the amount of trash lying around. Obviously discarded by passing motorists. Plastic bottles and food cartons all over the place! There's absolutely no need for this activity as it's simple enough to hang on to your waste until you reach a bin. Just sheer littering for the sake of it and no doubt often perpetrated by those who vociferously claim they're "proud to be Scottish" - Aye, just spoil the place while you're at it then! I also abhor vandalism in towns and villages but at least you could probably come up with socio-economic reasons as to why people choose to foul the nest, or at least peg it on the general angst of youth. But middle-class folk in private cars launching garbage out the windows? Tossers in all senses of the word. As I mentioned before, lockdown has made us all look inward in terms of fully appreciating what lies around us. Take our home village of Cairneyhill. Nicole and I have had our regular walking circuit for some time and there are a few reliable places to spot birds and other wildlife. But we tended to stick to the same routes and I'd only ever investigated the history of the settlement in a cursory manner. For example, I didn't know that a handful of wartime defences were stationed in the fields on the eastern fringe, ostensibly to help protect the Forth Bridge from aerial assault. The concrete structures still stand and look innocuous today. Indeed, the first time the RAF were called into action during the conflict was for the Battle of the Forth in 1939. The enemy fighters were seeking to destroy British warships on that occasion and the bridge was not deemed a target. However, there was little chance it would remain unmolested, particularly as the means to rapidly transport men and materials is always an advantage in war.

I also found the location of an old orchard and discovered where two schools had been sited. Before the modern housing developments, Cairneyhill was known for its market gardens and plant nurseries of which the modern Fairley's Garden Centre is the only survivor. Further back, the weaving industry was dominant and a handful of those cottages still flank the main road. We also delved deeper into local woodland and I am slowly improving my knowledge of wild flowers and trees. I have closed my Instagram account as it was consuming a silly amount of time, endlessly scrolling through pictures and liking other profiles in order to bring traffic to mine. Fun for a while but I decided enough was enough. Social media should - in my opinion - be a useful adjunct to everyday life and not driving force. But of course it's designed to draw people back for more and while I certainly found a few interesting people to follow, I feel Facebook is more suited to my needs and gives me access to local groups and other communities of interest, as well as being a source of relevant articles. I had a go at posting some historical information on the Cairneyhill residents' page and received some positive feedback. It's always useful to put something back in and not let everyone else do all the running around. My website (and a few blog posts) have garnered a bit of traffic so at least there are folk out there reading my ramblings! I was surprised to see my article on Maggie Duncan's Stone had been viewed over 100 times and shared elsewhere. In fact if you enquire about Maggie on Google, my page comes up tops. That does actually make sense for I found it very difficult to track down any pointers to where the stone might lie while conducting my own research. Internet fame at last! In fact, I used to run the website for Cowdenbeath Football Club in the early days of the internet and messages of support came in from far and wide.

There are several nice walking options around Cairneyhill and I've finally managed to write up a couple of my favourite circuits on my walk pages. I've also dipped a toe into exploring newspaper archives to aid local history research. This led on to a major bout of genealogy and I'll write about that in a separate post. We also took a trip up to Saline - a village around five miles distant. It developed around the weaving industry in the 1800s but the original settlement dates back centuries earlier. It's a place I pass through fairly often and there is a nice walk through the glen - a strip of ancient wooded gully running through the middle of the village. Perhaps a mile long, the broad deciduous leaves offered some welcome respite from the sun on a boiling day. The path was bone dry and we soon climbed high above the Saline Burn, reduced to a trickle following a prolonged spell without rain. From our elevated position, we could look into the extensive gardens of Kirklands House on the other side of the gorge. They were obviously well cared for and we had read about the existence of the Stone Men of Saline - lifesized statues of national bard Rabbie Burns and his fabled drinking buddy Soutar Johnny, who features in the epic poem Tam O'Shanter. The sculptures allegedly stood in the grounds of the big house but we couldn't see them.

The path wound its way through the glen but we had to divert before the end of the walk due to a section being eroded. Nevertheless, this route took us past a lovely meadow with forget-me-nots in abundance. An elderly Irish lady stopped to chat and we finished up in the former mining village of Steelend, finding a picnic table in the public park with great views of the twin-peaked Saline Hill. Steelend was well known among local football fans for being home to the worst team in the Fife League. They did get a little better towards the end of the club's existence but the ground now stands empty. Maybe worth a couple of pics on the Scottish urbex site. We took the pavement back to Saline and decided to check out the old graveyard adjoining Kirklands House. I managed to peer over the high boundary wall but there was still no sign of these stone men. The cemetery had gravestones dating back a few centuries and we found a bench to sit on in the top corner. It was the type of day when even going for a walk and negotiating the tamest of inclines seems like hard work. Energy levels restored, we ambled back to the car and nipped through to see my mum. The question of the stone men continued to niggle and I returned to the matter a few days later. The website for Kirklands House told me all about their bed & breakfast facilities and gardening courses. All very interesting but what about Rabbie and Johnny? Further researched yielded that the stone men now sit carousing within the public gardens next to Dunfermline Library and Museum. Ah yes! I pictured them instantly.

The new galleries are attached to the original Carnegie Library and the facility opened in 2017. The garden area contains a kiddies maze and bench seating. I had actually been in close proximity to the stone men on many occasions. Near enough to shout "mine's a pint of ale Johnny" - well, the Abbot Brewhouse was within spitting distance until recently when a wrangle over the lease forced the closure of the entire Abbot House complex, including the outbuilding where the mash tun was located. Another mystery solved and a slice of local knowledge gained. It never fails to amaze me how often you stumble across heritage on your home turf that had managed to keep itself hidden for years. I've already written about several such encounters in this very lengthy lockdown post. Here's another. Nicole had unearthed a walk alongside the Lyne Burn down to the Firth of Forth at Charlestown - apparently taking in old mining remains. Well, I was hooked as soon as I heard that. I recognised the starting point as a place where I often pick raspberries. For some reason, I had never pushed further along that path. Off we went on a fine spring day. (Edit - thankfully Abbot House is now reopening in stages).

The descent to the burn brought us to an abandoned pumping station and this little piece of urbex was a mere taste of what was to come. Charlestown was arguably Scotland's first planned industrial village and limestone mining and burning was the primary driver. Salt panning and ship building (later breaking) were also practised. Many remnants of the lime industry can be found dotted around the area and it is a place I have explored on numerous occasions. One of Scotland's oldest railway viaducts can be found here and the historic limekilns are well worth a visit. There is also a network of mining tunnels but that type of exploration is a bit too specialist for me. I also tend to operate alone and I wouldn't fancy being deep underground without an accomplice. Just recently, a middle-aged man died doing just that! I once poked around the entrance to a cavern but without appropriate equipment I didn't venture more than a few steps inside. My domestic torch beam was pathetically weak against the all-pervading blackness. A Facebook buddy of mine - Keith Henderson - goes into old mineshafts and has posted extensively about his activities. Give me a railway tunnel any day!

As we walked along the leafy gorge, I noticed obvious signs of mineral extraction on the valley walls. The opening pictured (right) lay just across the burn and appeared to extend back a good few metres. When Keith saw this on my Facebook post, he commented that he had crawled into this passage but withdrew when the rock started collapsing around him! I subsequently shoved caving a good few notches further down my list of priorities! I have great interest in the mining industry as my forebears worked deep underground but I think my affinity will remain restricted to deskbound activities and visits to museums. We continued downstream and I expected to emerge on the Forth at the railway bridge where I sometimes collect brambles. The mothballed line to the adjacent MOD base is partially overgrown but not difficult to access. The fruit ripens early due to an exposed position and there are always good pickings. I noticed crumbling stone remains to my left and strode through the vegetation for a howk around. I later found out the ruined buildings were the remains of a foundry which dated back to the late 1700s and was in use until the 1930s. A slice of Charlestown's industrial past that I hadn't been aware of. Always nice to increase your knowledge. This was turning out to be an informative day - but more was to come.

As I approached the edge of the old foundry complex, I found this little beauty. The cylindrical tower is still in sturdy condition and my attempts to uncover its purpose yielded no concrete explanation. It could simply have been part of the foundry layout or possibly a watchtower for incoming boats. A third possibility is the time honoured folly and I'm inclined to side with the latter theory. A great discovery and an innocent river walk had turned into a heritage-packed expedition. As we emerged on to the path towards the railway bridge, I realised why I had never explored this little corner before. It sat behind a large house and I hadn't realised there was a narrow connecting path through the undergrowth. We had a stroll around the stony beach. You are limited in how far you can go due to the proximity of the MOD compound. Some giant hogweed was growing on their side of the fence. Its removal would make a nice little lockdown task for the military personnel. A great day of unexpected exploring and a sharp reminder that the more you get out and about, the more you see. That brings to an end my reporting of the local lockdown adventures. Of course I went on many other walks but can't possibly detail every single stroll. The cherry blossom in Dunfermline Glen and the poppy field at Pattiesmuir were memorable sightings. I largely stuck to the rules but would be lying if I said I didn't venture further afield than officially permitted on a couple of occasions. We sneaked up to Geordie's Wood in Perthshire for a bracing circular loop, gaining much needed height to combat the inevitable decline in fitness that comes with spending so much time in your own gaff.

It was nice to experience a complete change of scenery. We once bought a tree for my mum in this wood as a Christmas present. It's that green one just over there! On the way back we stopped at Rumbling Bridge Gorge which forms the border between the shires of Perth and Kinross and features a high bridge built on top of an older crossing. The raging torrents are a sight to behold and - if you're lucky - the dipper might put in an appearance. Inevitably, home confinement gradually loosened its grip. I must confess I rather enjoyed the whole experience as it was a unique chance for life to slow down for a few months. Of course that's easy to say if your income wasn't affected. Not something you want to continue for the long term though. Being denied the choice to plan an itinerary outside your own county or region does become wearing after a while. You don't really finish all these books and films you thought you might and new projects are started which shoot off in tangents. But that's life. Or so it should be, for having many interests and hobbies can only ever be a good thing.

Five-a-side football

I wouldn't say I live purely for the weekend but I love finishing off the Monday to Friday work schedule with a game of staff football in the sports hall. One of the benefits of being a teacher is that this type of activity is free. It's also the perfect way to blow away any stress threatening to dig its claws in. We play five against five and usually have to rope in a couple of ex-pupils to make up the ten. This obviously raises the pace of the game and coupled with the fact the playing area is bigger than average, our 50-minute kickabout is quite a strenuous one.

The rules of "fives" vary widely but there are a few fundamentals. There is a semi-circle painted in front of each goal and the keeper must not leave this area. Conversely, outfield players may not enter. Some games have a head-height restriction for the ball but we don't enforce this. That suits me as I'm of the opinion that contesting high balls is part of the game and only becomes an issue if people deliberately start punting up in the air for the sake of it. We change goalkeepers every five minutes but, again, practices differ here. At my old school a goalie was relieved of his duties after letting one in (or becoming bored, whatever was the shorter). We also permit shooting from anywhere. In some matches you are not allowed to score until you cross a red line. Finally, offside? Doesn't exist!

I played a bit of indoor football as a teenage schoolboy. A few of us formed a little league and the name of my side was PVC Dynamite. This was swiftly changed to a more professional moniker - The Kingdom Kickers. An association magazine was produced (handwritten and xeroxed) which featured match previews, reports and team profiles. We must have had too much free time on our hands in the sixth-year common room. Well it was the pre-internet age. Our star striker Paul Westwater - still my best mate - had long straight hair and was naturally invited to write a column known as the Hippy Hit Page. This featured stunning witticisms such as "Benarty FC are no longer virgins as they have now been f**ked by every team in the league" Oh, the banter!

Somewhat predictably, the competition fizzled out due to fixtures not being fulfilled. I do remember my dad being drafted in as an emergency signing for the Kickers at one point. I recall another guy being dropped because his skills were lacking. An inevitable consequence of playing for points rather than just enjoying a friendly run-out. I was good enough between the sticks to be installed as permanent goalkeeper and therefore kept my place in the squad. Amazingly, this situation still rears its head today when we enter staff/pupil events and I receive an invitation to keep goal for the top-seeded teachers team.

Whilst working as a supply teacher in my mid-to-late 20s, I played a bit of fives here and there. I don't recall making much of an impression, probably because I spent most of the game running around like a headless chicken. My (footballing) career got started probably a decade later. Yes folks, I was something of a late developer. We got a weekly game up and running at Queen Anne High School and I found my niche as a man who keeps things tight in defence. Given the fact I struggled to hit the proverbial coo's erse with a banjo up front, I discovered a strong rearguard is a a big asset in fives as so many goals are leaked away during the course of a game due to a team giving the ball away cheaply while having every man pushed up, leaving them wide open to a counter attack. I became known as The Great Wall of Fraser (hey it's my blog and I'll damn well blow my own trumpet!).

I really enjoy my weekly workout at St Andrew's High School. It's a very competitive game - but not to a silly extent. I'm approaching 50 but still managing to hold my own. I just want to keep playing as long as I can. I've shared the field with players who literally couldn't kick a ball to those who have played against Edson Arantes do Nascimento - also known as Pelé. Yes, both these statements are true! Student teacher Keith Legg once participated and his first "touch" resulted in a fresh-air swipe that saw him land flat on his backside. Slightly further up the footballing scale was a retired English teacher - Ken McPhee - who came back to do a lot of supply work. It was obvious he had played organised football in the past but was always rather dismissive about this, mumbling that he'd been signed to a couple of lower-league teams in England.

After my final game at Queen Anne, we decamped to the Commercial Inn for a couple of pints. I demanded to know a bit more about Ken's career and he told me he'd gone across to America in the mid-70s to play in the North American Soccer League (NASL). Initially founded in 1968 and picked up by network television in 1975, the competition attempted to establish football as a professional sport in the States. These heady days are excellently chronicled in the documentary movie Once in a Lifetime. A raft of star players from Europe and South America were imported, mainly those nudging their mid-30s: Franz Beckenbauer and Gerd Müller arrived from Germany while British legends George Best and Booby Moore tried their luck, no doubt tempted by the prospect of a late-career windfall.

Realising it needed to sell to North Americans the sport of soccer, which was still foreign to most people, the NASL modified the game rules in an attempt to make its product more exciting and comprehensible to the average sports fan. A stadium clock counted the match time down to zero and drawn games were eliminated by proceeding straight to a penalty shoot-out. Not the standard 12-yard spot-kicks we have become accustomed to. The Americans opted for an ice-hockey-style scenario whereby the attacker started 35 yards from goal and had 5 seconds to do whatever he liked. Likewise the goalkeeper could move without restriction. There is a great scene in the film where an Italian player coolly lobs the advancing keeper from 30 yards to win the league title. Offside remained a part of the game but a 35-yard line was drawn across the pitch and player's could only be caught offside within that final zone. This had the effect of widening the play.

The glamour team was the New York Cosmos (with whom Pelé spent three seasons) but overall the attendances failed to match expectations and TV coverage was axed in 1980, with the league falling apart a few years later. Nowadays there is a professional scene in the States once again and the national side can compete with the best in the world. However it was a fledgling sport back in Pelé's day - so much so that when Warner Communications chief executive Steve Ross - who had invested heavily in the NY Cosmos - was advised about the availability of the world's most famous footballer, he replied "great, but who's Pelé?"

Of course the ageing international icons were just a sprinkling of quality among the rank and file foreign imports. It appears Ken had secured a Stateside contract and found himself one day on the same pitch as the Brazilian legend. Seven degrees of separation? I'm way closer to the source baby! I bumped into Ken recently at a historical society meeting. He introduced me to his wife as "the best footballer at Queen Anne"

Aye, because you could never get past me :-)

Suddenly it was over! For two years anyway. Here I am in May 2022, preparing to enter the hallowed sports hall once again. The final Covid restrictions have been lifted in schools. Having not run in earnest for such a long time, nor kicked a ball, I've no idea how I'll fare. Two things should help soften the impact: We have assembled a mature squad of ten staff, hence no need to invite 20-year-old former pupils. Also, the game is being played along the road at Kirkcaldy High School, which has a smaller playing arena. Our facility is currently hosting exams. Rather ominously, the comeback fixture is taking place on Friday the 13th.

As expected, I struggled to get involved in the game and posed little threat to the opposition. I was simply glad to complete an hour's play without coming to a standstill or picking up an injury. The endless miles of walking have helped me maintain a level of fitness, although a different set of muscles are obviously required for the stop/start action in a fives hall. This was evident the following day as I hobbled downstairs on stiff legs.