Occasional Scotland

Why I haven't been blogging

2012-02-19T11:28:00.004Z

Like Marcheline, I'm tired of UCAS too. But something has pulled me away from blogging, and here it is. Edinburgh's Central Library. After years of lapsed membership I rejoined the library in January, and since then have been gripped by a compulsion to read. Handily, or perhaps not, the Central Library is only a couple of minutes walk from my workplace. A quick lunchtime jaunt and - how have I managed to take out another 6 books?

So all through the dreary days of early February I've been hunkering down with my books in the evenings. I've still been taking photos during the day, but I've lacked that follow-through of wanting to publish them. Perhaps it's been the low levels of light, or a bit of 'ennui d'Edimbourg'. Until last week we hadn't emerged from the city or the little clockwork train routine of work-housework-sleep-work since the New Year.

But now I'm feeling re-invigorated through my book immersion, including finding several titles which have been on my 'to buy' list for a while. I've been even more invigorated, in a way that appeals to Scottish thrift, by realising that I would have resented spending money on some of them. In the case of 'When the Lights Went Out:Britain in the Seventies', I had looked forward to the social history of the decade in which I was a teenager. Instead it turned out to be heavy on what politician X said to trade unionist Y, and on pages of economic strategy. I know, I'm such a lightweight.

On either side of the Central Library there are dramatic glimpses of Edinburgh Castle, another reason to make a visit worthwhile.

One thing has just struck me while writing this post - out of the armloads of books I've taken out there have been no Scottish titles. Perhaps I should aim for one book on a Scottish subject per visit.

Oh, and just going back to UCAS for a minute, if Marcheline will forgive me: last week UCAS delivered the offer of a place that my daughter had been waiting for. Now just one decision left to hear about and she can finalise her choice.

UCAS

2012-01-30T21:26:00.005Z

The Universities and Colleges Admissions Service is the body which manages applications to, as it says, universities and colleges in the UK. Its abbreviation, pronounced 'YOU-cass', has become a noun. 'Have you done your UCAS yet?' translates as 'have you completed the on-line application process through UCAS?'

At the moment it feels as if we're living with UCAS, and have been since last year when our daughter's school started preparing students and parents for the rigours of the application process. If she had been applying for entry in September/October 2012 to medicine, dentistry, veterinary medicine, veterinary science, Oxford or Cambridge, the on-line application would have been completed by 15 October 2011. These courses are under extremely high pressure from applicants, often involve additional entrance tests, and most have interviews as part of the selection process.

Since our daughter is firmly on the humanities side, the deadline in her case was 15 January 2012. However there is 'strong encouragement' at her school to have applications in well before the deadline, so since November it's been a case of watching email and the UCAS on-line tracking system for replies from her 5 choices. That's the maximum number of places you can apply to in your initial application. There's the possibility to go into an extra round of application if the initial one is unsuccessful, and finally a Clearing process when the summer exam results come out that matches applicants with no places with universities which still have vacancies. Within that there are further restrictions, such as only one of Oxford or Cambridge in any one year, and only four choices for medicine, vet, dentistry or vet science in any one year. So far 3 of daughter's choices have made her an offer: 2 unconditional offers from Scottish universities, where she doesn't have to get any further qualifications, and a conditional offer from an English university. Still awaited - decisions from an English and a Scottish university.The difference in the offers in a nutshell is because Scottish university degrees are normally 4 years long, and English ones 3 years. Scottish degrees also, in the main, have a broader base in the first and sometimes second year, where students take other subjects alongside their intended final specialisation. Scottish applicants can gain the entry requirements to Scottish universities on the basis of the Highers exams they take at the end of their 5th year at school. The rest of the UK takes A levels at the end of their 6th and last year at school. This is a very small nutshell - the whole issue of parity of entrance qualifications would take me several posts to work through.

As well as different entry grades, there's now the issue of different costs to be considered. Tuition is free for Scottish students attending a Scottish university. If they go to England, they will pay £9,000 a year for tuition (a few places charge slightly less), which is what English students studying in England pay. If an English student comes to university in Scotland they will pay fees - the £9,000 or whatever it is the university is charging. Keeping up? However, if a student from the European Union comes to a Scottish university they will pay no fees, as that is held to be discriminatory by the EU.

If you want to find out more about the wonderful world of UCAS (and it is an impressive set-up), have a look at their website at www.ucas.com. Meanwhile keep your fingers crossed for us!

Alternative Burns' Night

2012-01-25T20:46:00.003Z

Last-minute planning of traditional Burns' Night fare was not a good idea today. Not on a Burns' Night when Scotland's First Minister made another carefully timed speech tugging at the independence heartstrings of the nation. Certainly the Scottish National Party is leaving no national symbol unexploited as it seeks independence for Scotland. Above, the 'haggis chill cabinet' in our local Tesco on Saturday. The tartan swathing is new to Tesco's display this year. As the independence debate ramps up, so does the tartan. By 2014, the proposed date for a referendum on independence, we will be drowning in it.

By 5.30 tonight the haggis had sold out. Even that mostly unloved stalwart of Scottish cuisine, the neep, had disappeared.

So we celebrated with home-made mushroom risotto with roasted butternut squash. Shhhh...

Environmental Art

2012-01-16T21:41:00.003Z

Or 'frost art', perhaps. We had a hard frost overnight and during today. Some pedestrian artist saw the blank canvas afforded by the grass in the quad of the University of Edinburgh's Old College, and couldn't resist.

The photographer in me was enthralled, the gardener less so. Frost-trampled grass can really suffer.

Below, the motif from a higher view point. The netting is there to prevent pigeons nesting on the balconies. Short of climbing on the ledge there was nothing I could do to avoid the netting coming out in the shot. I decided I didn't want University security called to rescue me, so settled for the grid effect. Still, it makes a nice contrast of regimentation and free-flowing expression.

Skywatch Friday - landscapes in the sky

2012-01-13T07:38:00.004Z

Massing grey clouds form a landscape in the sky behind Calton Hill.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Natural lines

2012-01-11T20:44:00.005Z

Lines from a walk by the river Spey. Above, the high water mark from a recent spate.

Below, a very orderly mole.

And back to winter

2012-01-04T16:42:00.005Z

After the glimpse of spring in my last post, here's the other side of January in Scotland. When we left Speyside on 2 January to travel back to Edinburgh sleet was beginning to fall. Between Grantown on Spey and Aviemore the snow started - 'blin' drift' in Scots (translation: 'blizzarding snow, blown by strong winds so that it obscures your vision. 'Blin' pronounced as in 'pin'. I'm feeling rather Inuit-ish with my Scots snow terminology!) - and the road filled up very quickly. South of Newtonmore the traffic halted completely. We were comforted by the sight of a snowplough/gritter a few cars ahead of us, but all the same it was sobering to sit in a car rocked by a gale, on a desolate stretch of road, with only a food stock of left-over Christmas cake, mince pies and kettle chips. Plus the survival blankets which we always carry in the winter.

We eventually got moving without any digging out being required, and by the time we reached Perth there was no snow to be seen. Yesterday and today we're back to gales, so the year has got off to a turbulent start.

Among the pictures of this week's storm damage on the BBC Scotland website, I noted the irony of a house featured in the 'Grand Designs' programme which had lost its roof (it's the 7th photo along). On either side the stolid, very ungrandly designed houses appear unscathed.

New life

2012-01-02T08:04:00.005Z

Discovered on a walk by the River Spey yesterday. A patch of precocious green, and not just a few shoots, but burgeoning flower heads.

Their habitat was an east-facing mossy bank, scattered with fallen leaves, and in dappled sun. Sheltered from the prevailing westerly and northerly winds, and above all but the very highest reach of the river in spate.

And flowering - delicate, deeply divided individual flowers emerging from fresh green bracts, some of them frost-burned.

I turned to the family copy of the Collins Pocket Guide to Wild Flowers. First printed 1955, ours is the seventh edition, 1969. No first edition, sadly, as for our Reader's Digest 'The Gardening Year'.

When my mother and I used to use it to identify flowers we found on our walks, we would invariably discover that we had whittled the possibilities down to something extremely rare and confined to the south of England. The explanation of the star system used by the Collins guide has a schoolmasterly tone, "We have devised a star system to show how common or rare a plant is, to add to the pleasure of finding something uncommon, and to discourage rash identification of unlikely rarities". Continuing in that fine tradition of pleasure rapidly followed by discouragement, my first stab this time turned out to have three stars for rarity, and to be "confined to woods and copses in one small area in E Sussex. Flowers June-July". A second attempt gave me the satisfyingly Lord of the Rings sounding White Butterbur, two stars for rarity and "local in plantations and by roadsides, chiefly in the N". A quick cross-check with photos on the internet (the Collins guide is illustrated by line drawings), and I'm sure that it is indeed White Butterbur. The two star rarity is for scarce plants "which usually grow only in limited areas, but may be thinly scattered over a wide area". White Butterbur is apparently an early flowering plant, so its January appearance is not a cause for climate change concern.

With this stirring of new life even in the north of Scotland, I'd like to wish all my readers and commenters a Happy New Year. Who knows where blogging will lead us in 2012. Writing this post, I found myself wondering about taking a botany course at the Royal Botanic Gardens in Edinburgh...I'd be interested to hear where blogging has led or might lead you.

Country walk

2011-12-31T12:09:00.003Z

When the sun does appear at this time of year it's low on the horizon. Perhaps it was the angle of the light, but more likely it was our mild autumn that has given the grass such a vivid and surprising emerald hue.

I love the combination of shafts of winter sun and dark clouds. It's this midwinter contrast that means that even if I did have the money to 'escape' the Scottish winter, I wouldn't do it. Why miss this counterpoint to the long days of summer? Admittedly not particularly sunny or warm days this year, but there is a lot to savour in these opposites.

Our village castle (more accurately its remaining wall) appears spotlit. Thankfully it's not lit up artifically and expensively, not to mention wastefully and dark sky spoilingly at night.

Because of the natural spotlighting, I noticed for the first time the clear outline of a window arch. I can't believe that I played around this castle all through my childhood and have only just noticed this. Perhaps a lump of stone has fallen off recently and given the arch a sharper profile. Perhaps I was always too intent on sledging or Easter egg rolling or hide and seek.

And then, in a field above the village, a large trampoline. A casualty of the recent gales. It must have been quite a sight when airborne.

Thanks to YouTube, you just have to say 'trampoline' in Scotland just now for everyone to know what you're referring to.

Seeking out the light

2011-12-27T22:16:00.007Z

'Tis the year's midnight...the world's whole sap is sunk.' And in these days between Christmas and New Year, away from the artificial glare of the city, I've been seeking out the light. Dawn is a matter of a few minutes, between 9 and 9.15 a.m. Christmas Day dawned quietly, in washed silver and blue.

Below, sunset on Christmas Day at 3.30 pm, beside the Spey in the face of a tearing gale.

Boxing Day dawn was a panoply of cloud shapes. Mild temperatures (14 degrees!) allowed me to stand outside to view the return of the sun.

There was no sunset where we were that day, just the grey half-light deepening imperceptibly into dark. I had somehow expected today's sunrise to make up for it with a gaudy show, but it was delicate and restrained.

Instead the show came tonight, with 10 minutes of fire in the west.

Skywatch Friday - skirling

2011-12-16T07:32:00.002Z

The scary carousel Wave Swinger at Edinburgh's 'Winter Wonderland' is going full tilt now. The chairs whirl round above shoppers' heads, passing within what seems like inches of the black gothic bulk of the Scott Monument.

The usual soundtrack of Princes Street is the skirl of the pipes. At this time of year the Wave Swinger adds the skirl of its terrified/thrilled/nauseous customers.

More skies across the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Skywatch Friday - de-countrified

2011-12-09T07:49:00.009Z

It's strange how different shapes against the sky can create an immediate emotional reaction. In the case of this Antwerp skyline, the first word that came to my mind to describe it was the French 'dépaysement'. Literally 'de-countrified', it has connotations of exile, the exotic, displacement. When I say this skyline from the top of the MAS (you'll need to scroll down the post to get to the Museum aan de Stroom), it wasn't just a change of country that it evoked, but a change of world. I had the strongest sense I was looking at the skyline of an alien planet, so unaccustomed were the shapes and dispersal of the tall buildings.

And the sense of dislocation in relation to the sky continued throughout my visit. Below, a spindly chimney anchored to the roof.

Everything in this shot says 'You're not in Scotland now': overhead trame wires (sounds of hollow laughter off from those of us in Edinburgh), more exotic chimneys, and the spires ranging from squat and onion-like to ivory filigree against the sky.

And even once airborne on the return flight to Edinburgh, the strangeness of this landscape in the sky - smoke from factory or power station chimneys piercing the cloud floor somewhere over the Netherlands.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

North by train

2011-12-06T22:11:00.015Z

It's a long time since I've made the journey to Aberdeen by train. The east coast line is one of my favourite railway journeys. I still associate it with the last stage of the long haul up the length of Britain, when I was a student travelling north from London or France. It was always my preferred mode of travel, for the slow re-possession of my country from the Sussex Downs up to the Howe of the Mearns. Perhaps for this reason I couldn't stop taking photos on my journey on Sunday. Above, the Forth Road Bridge seen from the Forth Rail Bridge. Note the snow on the hills, off to the right of the shot.

Below, a jellyfish cloud over Edinburgh airport.

One of the great joys of a winter journey is seeing the naked forms of trees against the horizon.

The mosaic has cut off a feature of the middle shot that I only noticed once I'd downloaded the photos. I guess these must be some sort of spreaders or tanks - slurry, perhaps? But they look for all the world like two giant bottles.

Farming on one side, and on the other the sea. These are the twin livelihoods of this part of Scotland.

Below - red hulls seemed to be in favour, whether for big or little boats. In the middle, the river Tay. I always have a slight frisson when crossing the Tay by the rail bridge, remembering the collapse of the previous bridge. A long time ago, but still...

For the most part this is rich agricultural land.

Near Aberdeen the land is poorer on the clifftops, and farm buildings are stark and utilitarian, exposed to every wind that blows.

And this is what they look out over - The North Sea.

At Aberdeen station my long northbound train on the right is mirrored by the London train on the left, almost ready to set off down the length of the country.

All was calm on my journey north last week. I'm writing this now on a day when Scotland is hit by storm force winds, and rail services on the east coast line have been suspended.

Thank you to Jacqui at The Barefoot Crofter for the technical tips on mosaics, none of which I would have figured out for myself.

Seven days

2011-11-23T21:14:00.010Z

Joining in the Seven Days theme at The Barefoot Crofter and starting with a Sunday visit to John Lewis in search of a new sofa. While we were there I noted this comfy tartan chair for our 'when we move to Speyside' furniture list. It's hard to remember now that shops in Scotland used to be closed on a Sunday. Very convenient for those of us who work all week, but it's certainly not a day of rest.

Above, feelings are running high as flood prevention work continues along the Water of Leith. I'll post more about this shortly, but for the moment here's the scene from the bridge at Canonmills.

Below, a new stretch of walkway/cyclepath in the direction of the sea, captured on my walk home from work. A branch route from the main path, deserted on a rainy evening.

Staying with the cycling theme, but with a change of country mid-week with a visit to Antwerp for a conference. Below, a typical Belgian bicycle outside a university building in Antwerp, complete with the floral touches favoured by students there.

Depressingly for those of us from Edinburgh where the saga of the non-appearance of our trams continues, Antwerp's trams run in even the narrowest of streets. They also seem to enjoy the sport of cyclist-chasing.

Below, a couple of enticing restaurants in Antwerp, and a lovely street drain cover in Brussels.

A fire hydrant for my collection:

Below, Antwerp's new 'museum on the river', the Museum aan de Stroom. Fantastic views from the top, of which more later.

Saturday night and waffles, ice cream and chocolate sauce looking out over the Grote Markt/Grand Place in Brussels, with the intricate spire of the town hall rising into the darkness. Brussels is officially bi-lingual in Flemish and French. After being in Flemish-speaking Antwerp for a few days it came as a shock to the ear to step off the train and immediately be surrounded by French.

Sunday afternoon - Edinburgh airport and thinking longingly of a very strong cup of Scottish tea.
And of course seeing my family.

Skywatch Friday - rush hour glory

2011-11-10T21:01:00.006Z

A rush hour treat in Edinburgh - a raft of glorious sunset colour against massing grey evening clouds. We are going down into the dark of winter, and these moments are precious.

The castle-like building in the first shot is the Balmoral hotel. The castle-like building in the second shot, with the domes and spires and flags, is the Bank of Scotland. The real castle is lurking in the distance.

More skies from across the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Torridon photo course

2011-11-07T20:57:00.006Z

Dawn over Loch Clair, looking towards Liathach. A couple of weekends ago I was on a photography course in Torridon. It was a revelation. Not, unfortunately in photographic terms, but of the beauty of this part of Scotland in autumn. I know my own east coast stamping grounds well in all seasons, but this was the first time I'd been on the west coast outside of the narrow band of June to August. It was empty (save a few bands of tripod-toting photographers, and the cars of hill walkers at road ends and wider verges of the single track roads). The sun was low and the light (on Friday and Sunday) reflected off the tawny hillsides. I had never imagined such warm colours in an almost treeless landscape.

The shot above was taken on Sunday morning, towards the end of an early session at Loch Clair. We were in the minibus at 7 am, in the dark, slowed momentarily by a stag walking slowly down the road in front of us. On location (how pretentious that sounds) by 7.30, as the blue light gave way to rose and silver, and I sustained a tripod injury while trying to coerce what to me is basically machinery into capturing the beauty of the dawn.

Sunday at least had a dawn. On Saturday we were also out by 7, and bracing ourselves and tripods against rain and gale-force winds at the same location, and then after breakfast at Loch Maree.

My aim for the weekend had been to get a concentrated infusion of technical know-how and that wasn't forthcoming. However, looking back from a couple of weeks distance, I'm realising that I did learn some things about composition. The most frustrating thing was to know what I wanted to capture in terms of the quality of light, and not to be able to manipulate the camera to do that. I am singularly dim when it comes to f-stops. The old horror of maths lessons at school rears its head.

Throughout, I was concentrating so hard on trying to take artful photographs that I didn't take shots of what would normally appeal to me in a landscape. It was a very strange experience - 'trying too hard' is how I sum it up to myself.

I'll leave you with another shot of Liathach, again one of frustration as the clouds scrolled and crimped over the summit quicker than I could fumble with my f-stops, and I walked ankle deep into the loch before I'd realised it, in search of the perfect composition.

Olympic torch

2011-10-26T21:40:00.006+01:00

The Olympic torch called at Edinburgh University on Monday. Members of University sports teams posed for photos with the torch, which surprised my by its futuristic appearance. I was expecting something...torch-like. Note the white gloves. All those who touched the torch - or The Torch - had to put them on.

After the sports teams it was the turn of ordinary students, who queued to have their photo taken in the search for what are called 'Future Flames'. I'm not quite sure how the selection is made for the Flames. The whole enterprise is sponsored by Coca Cola, in one of these ironies of modern life that I just don't get. Sweet fizzy drink + loads of money = association with peak fitness. Anyway, students certainly queued.

The tour bus was of course a London double-decker. It just seems like yesterday that one of these trundled into the closing ceremony of the Beijing Olympics.

Although a group of us went to watch from my office, we didn't bother queuing. We got the message that we weren't quite in the 'Future Flame' age group.

Leaving Skye - Glenelg ferry

2011-10-19T21:01:00.010+01:00

A Greek island, perhaps? Rocky shores, crystal azure water, sunhat and sandals - where else could it be but Skye. On our return to the mainland we crossed by the Kylerhea to Glenelg ferry, which goes between the narrow strait between the island and the mainland. The road bridge at Kyle of Lochalsh has replaced the romance of going over the sea to Skye at the main crossing point (and the queues of traffic), but there are still ferries at Glenelg and at Armadale in the south of the island. The Glenelg ferry is a community enterprise, and is the last manually operated turntable ferry on the west coast. (The two girls are mine - my daughter and her French friend. The hat, sandals and dog belong to someone else.)

The road to the ferry is spectacular, with a series of single-track switchbacks. First of all there are vistas of the island you're leaving.

Then the mainland of Scotland appears across the water.

The ferry makes the crossing every 20 minutes or so. We waited in a 'queue' of 4 cars, watching the loading on the other side of the water.

I have no photos from our own crossing. It's a very friendly ferry, and I was engaged in conversation by a German tourist who related his family's wonderful time on Skye, complete with golden eagle spotting, and then their plans for a dash to Orkney.

There's a small-scale lighthouse on either side of the water, in close-up below, and just discernible in the following shot of the turntable being manually turned.

Every ferry should have its attendant dog, who either comes along for the ride:

Or keeps a lookout from the shore.

If you cross before 4pm you can prepare for the next section of switchback single track road by having tea in the village hall at Glenelg. We were just too late, but having taken the ferry once I'd want to cross to Skye this way again, and hopefully include a scone or pancake at the village hall.
And if you'd like to see more of the Glenelg ferry, there's a blog (of course) about this national treasure.

You think of a clever title for this one

2011-10-15T22:34:00.003+01:00

A very clean lamb enjoys the evening sunshine on Skye. A very domesticated lamb:

Seen as we walked along Waterloo Road, Broadford, this summer. The road gets its name from the large number of soldiers who settled there in 1815 after the Napoleonic wars.

And yes, suggestions for a title for this post, please. After a flat-out week at work, a Friday night drive up to Moray, and in the middle of a weekend of helping my now house-bound father with accumulated chores, I can't get beyond the laughably obvious. Sometimes I long for title-less posts.

Tattie Bogle

2011-10-09T14:50:00.012+01:00

We saw the first one at the turning for Carbost, on our way to Talisker beach. A gypsy scarecrow in a bus shelter, it struck a faintly sinister note as we headed into ever more remote country on increasingly narrow roads.

The Stig himself stood at the entrance to Carbost village.

Further along, a cheerful Dalek guarded a cattle grid. We all know they can't go up or down stairs, but what about cattle grids? We had seen no humans by this point, which reinforced our unseasy feeling that the inhabitants of Carbost had been taken over by some extra-terrestrial invasion.

'They' had taken over the post office, in a regulation Royal Mail postie's jacket:

And the health centre, in the guise of Dr Who.

There was the grisly, outside the Carbost Inn. We revised our earlier plan of having fish and chips:

And the benign, in school uniform outside the primary school:

In fact there were so many that driverly patience began to wear thin at the frequent cries of "stop! just one more photo!". We did go into the Carbost Inn for a cup of tea, where all seemed normal. So normal that we didn't quite like to ask about the alternate reality outside.

On returning from holiday I've discovered that there are scarecrow festivals held up and down Britain. 'Tattie bogle' is Scots for scarecrow. I've always found the name faintly scary, redolant of boggarts and freets and a whole faerie world of babies stolen while their mothers pull bracken, and Thomas the Rhymer transported away by the Queen of Elfland.

Talisker (at last)

2011-10-01T18:01:00.013+01:00

For those who were hoping for a post about the famous distillery of the same name, I'm sorry - this is all about the beach at Talisker. A gentle curve of a beach, backed by storm-flung pebbles, and sheltered by cliffs.

You have to really want to get there. First you turn off the main road, then you turn off the narrower road onto a single-track road, heading up over moorland. Then you turn off that road onto an even-more-side-road. At last the sea comes into view.

The road ends at a farm at the bottom of the hill, and from this point you have to walk in. First of all past Talisker House, a big lonely pile of a place mostly hidden from view in its shelter belt of trees. The track does pass by the kitchen door of the house at one point, but I was having one of my periodic fits of sensitivity to prying too closely into people's lives and didn't take any photos.

Once past the house you take the farm track heading for the sea, sharing it with sheep. From the large beeches round the house the trees dwindle in size and robustness, until they give out in the stunted specimens you see in the shot below.

The wild flowers are also lush to begin with.

A rowan tree takes what foothold it can find.

Once you've clambered over the bank of stones at the high tide mark, you find a beach of black sand, with traces of silver.

We were mesmerised by it. I have photos of us all - daughter, husband, our French friend, taking photos of the sand, over and over. Those without cameras simply contemplated the waves. (not our dog - it belonged to some ferociously organised people having a barbecue. Perhaps the inhabitants of the Big House.)

And so we took photos of sand and water and pebbles.

Two more Skye posts to come. I am trying to return to seasonal posting - the summer flowers in this post will have faded by now. But I just have a quick detour to a conservation camp my daughter did in Kintail, and then I'll be back on track.

And if anyone knows how to post 3 photos side by side in a mini collage strip, I'd be very grateful for the technical hints. I tried to do that with the photos of the flowers and mini rowan tree but had to give up, having searched Blogger 'help' in vain for something that made sense. Inching closer to Wordpress...

Installation of the Chancellor

2011-09-26T21:05:00.018+01:00

Her Royal Highness The Princess Royal was installed as the Chancellor of the University of Edinburgh today. I was lucky enough to be at the ceremony, which was held outside in the newly restored quad of the University's Old College.

Above, the platform party at the beginning of the ceremony. At the left of the platform in the blue and red gowns denoting the 'Distinction of University Benefactor' award: J K Rowling, Mr Hugh Langmuir and Mrs Josseline Langmuir. The Chancellor's gown awaits Princess Anne, who casts it a sideways glance. Perhaps she's looking forward to putting it on - it was rather chilly out there, although we were incredibly lucky to have a dry, sunny day. To Princess Anne's left, the Principal studies his order of ceremony.

Below, the new Chancellor and the Vice-Chancellor. Princess Anne is succeeding her father the Duke Of Edinburgh, who had held the role since 1953.

Princess Anne then had some duties to perform, including the award of Distinction of University Benefactor to J K Rowling. The Harry Potter author has recently donated £10 million to set up the Anne Rowling Regenerative Neurology Clinic at the University. The clinic carries out research into degenerative neurological conditions, including Multiple Sclerosis, from which J K Rowling's mother died.

There was a plaque unveiling, to commemorate the renovation of the quad.

It seems to have been quite jolly as far as plaque unveilings go.

As the procession processes out, celebratory fizz appears at the left of the shot.

The celebrations continued in the quad for most of the afternoon. Princess Anne kept her gown on throughout. She was probably the warmest of the lot of us.

One of the comments on this post remarked on how much good work Princess Anne does that goes unreported. I looked up yesterday's Court Circular:

"The Princess Royal, Patron, Seagull Trust Cruises, this morning named the new disabled passenger boat ST. JOHN EDINBURGH at Union Canal, Baird Road, Ratho, Newbridge, Midlothian, and was received by Mr. Thomas Martin (Deputy Lieutenant of the City of Edinburgh).
Her Royal Highness, Chancellor, the University of Edinburgh, this afternoon attended the Chancellor's Installation Ceremony and opened the Quadrangle at the Old College, South Bridge.
The Princess Royal, Patron, the Vine Trust, later opened the Global Citizenship Centre at Prince of Wales Dock, Leith Docks.
Her Royal Highness, Royal Patron, this evening held a Reception to mark the Thirtieth Anniversary of Motor Neurone Disease Scotland at the Palace of Holyroodhouse.
The Princess Royal, Chancellor, the University of Edinburgh, later held the Chancellor's Installation Dinner at the Palace of Holyroodhouse."

This is from the 'official website of the British Monarchy', which has the wonderful web address of 'royal.gov.uk'.

And just one further update, since there has been a comment about J K Rowling's heels - here they are in close-up:

Piping in the rain

2011-09-20T20:49:00.012+01:00

It didn't start out wet at Peebles Highland Games a couple of weekends ago. But they're hardy stuff, Scottish pipers. It rains - they put on their big black capes.

To begin with it was shirt-sleeves weather - as here, with St Andrew's tower in the background.

The first drops of rain appear, below, on one of the T-shirts that was being proudly worn by the members of my daughter's school pipe band. It is rather a nice litany of championship wins. The balloon - I think it's to do with practising squeezing the bag of the actual pipes.

The umbrellas come out, and the dancers get under a gazebo. Well, some of them do. I'm not sure why some are at the mercy of the elements.

The shot-putters follow with their umbrellas. Glenfiddich is a suitable sort of umbrella to have at a highland games, but Johnson & Higgins? My Google search brought up results as diverse as a brokerage firm and a cosmetic dentist in Lexington, Kentucky.

Still, not everyone is convinced by the rain. Among the lusty blowing, below, there are still some shirt-sleeves.

But eventually it's a cape-clad tramp through the streets of Peebles, and rather a nice umbrella to finish off with.

Oops - photo credits to my daughter! I'm in danger of taking my staff of roving reporters for granted.

And another oops - my photo of the shot-putters with their umbrellas somehow fell off the post. I'm getting rather frustrated with Blogger's photo manipulation at the moment. Perhaps it's my lack of technical skills - can anyone who has upgraded to the new Blogger set-up tell me if it's more amenable to things like adding photos and moving them around?

Elgol

2011-09-18T21:21:00.000+01:00

If I lived in Elgol, this would be my house. The views! The blue door and yellow window frames! The woodburning stove in the extension at the left! (I know it's there because I zoomed in with my camera to have a good look.) And the little path leading down to the road, which ends at the sea a few yards further on where visiting kayaks are drawn up on the beach.

Loch Coruisk, Skye

2011-09-12T21:33:00.009+01:00

Looking out from the haven of Loch Coruisk to the islands of the Inner Hebrides.

On the way in we passed seals basking in the sun.

The boat deposits its cargo of walkers, and heads off back to the village of Elgol.

Climbing up the rocks from the landing stage, you pass a natural infinity pool.

We had a brisk hour and a half ashore, walking round one shore of the loch, just missing stepping on a sundew plant in my case, and wished that we'd planned for a longer day's walking. Strangely, I have no photos of the loch. I felt curiously inhibited in taking photos - it was a place set apart. My husband may have some photos - I just have to wrest them from wherever they've been safely 'filed'.

I'll leave you with this slice of a mountain from the homeward journey.

Skywatch Friday - Loch Scavaig, Skye

2011-09-08T21:12:00.007+01:00

The Cuillin range of hills outshone by the sweep of clouds above. Taken from the boat 'Bella Jane', crossing Loch Scavaig from Loch Coruisk to the village of Elgol.

Small boat or a walk in across the hills, including the notorious 'Bad Step', are the only ways to reach Loch Coruisk.

More skies across the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Fiery Festival Farewell

2011-09-03T09:57:00.003+01:00

After the end of the Fringe, it's the turn of the highbrow Festival to say farewell to its orchestras, opera and dance companies from across the world. The Festival's final act is an evening fireworks concert on Sunday, with the Castle providing the launch pad and backdrop for the fireworks, and music coming from the Scottish Chamber Orchestra live in the gardens below. This year it's a Russian and Eastern European programme of Glinka, Borodin, Sibelius, Nielsen and Tchaikovsky.

All across the city preparations are underway. The road closure signs have gone up. The great British traffic cone is sprouting along key routes where people might be tempted to park and watch the show. It's very much an 'on foot' event. My children will be watching from the vantage point of a hill to the south of the city centre, which will mean a bracing climb. On Sunday evening the streets and footpaths will have a steady movement of people walking into the centre of town. I love this pedestrian, in the literal sense, aspect of the evening.

While the concert is sponsored by big money - Virgin Money this year, it is part of the 'feel' of the city, and enters into everyday life. As in the sign outside the Artisan Roast coffee shop on Broughton Street. As a local, you know what to look for that tells you how the preparations are doing. So looking up at the Castle from Princes Street yesterday, I noticed something different about the battlements. The usual tourist figures were there.

But look more closely and you'll see that what you might have taken for white-clad tourists (rash in this weather, but possible) are actually firework preparation thingies. I don't have a clue what they are, but they're definitely part of the big build-up.

My firework photography skills are hopeless, so I'm not promising any photos this year. However, my children might oblige, and I'm going on a photo course in the autumn which might improve my skills.

Farewell, Fringe

2011-08-31T07:40:00.003+01:00

I know, it's taking a long time to get to Skye. But I had to bid a quick farewell to the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, which ended at the weekend. Three weeks of theatre, music, art, street 'happenings' and unclassifiable things running parallel to the highbrow international names of the Festival itself, including that old favourite, sell-out 'Puppetry of the Penis' (yes, it really is). Out of these riches I have been to precisely one event, and that was because my daughter was performing in it. Apart from that I've indulged in the residents' favourite sport of 'Festival Grumbling', as normal life slows to a crawl in a thronged city. I think we all enjoy the grumbling - just as the Fringe is the chance for any sort of creative talent (and lack of it, sometimes) to be aired, so we get the chance to indulge the dour side of the Scottish character. Most cathartic.

So farewell Mr Tumnus bagpipe player. Farewell upside down, inflatable purple cow.

It's that castle

2011-08-24T09:58:00.004+01:00

Yes, it's Eilean Donan Castle, recognisable across the world from many a shortbread tin in duty free shops. We didn't visit, I have to admit. We had already 'done' Cawdor Castle a couple of days previously, to come in a future post, and we were keen to cross over to Skye. But if you want more detail, Eilean Donan has its own website, cottage for rent, blog and Facebook page. I think I should compile a list of things from modern life that the first occupants of Scottish castles might have liked to have (F16 fighters, Facebook...).

We did take the bridge to Skye, I admit. The last time I crossed to the island was by ferry, but now there's a concrete curve of a bridge linking the island with the mainland. Much debate for and against, which I'm not going to get into here. But we came back by ferry, delightfully, and it's that short sea crossing we'll remember.

Sundew, or 15 minutes of fame

2011-08-19T22:13:00.002+01:00

After Loch Ness I was going to take you by easy stages to the Isle of Skye. But I've skipped straight there tonight with this shot of a sundew plant, because it's also featured this week on the BBC's Your Pictures of Scotland page. It's always worth looking at this page each week for glimpses of what's going on in Scotland, and I'm chuffed to have a photo shown on it.

My little sundew was nestling among stones by the shores of Loch Coruisk, on the west coast of Skye. I very nearly trod on it, so I figured the least I could do was take its photo. It looked incredibly exotic in that rocky landscape.

Next up - over the sea to Skye.

Monster hunting

2011-08-16T20:42:00.005+01:00

Back in July we had a French friend of my daughter's staying with us. On her previous visits we've been very much Edinburgh based, so it was time for a quick tour of some of Scotland's other delights. Our first stop was Loch Ness and a spot of monster hunting. As you see above, we were lucky enough to spot the familiar long neck rising from the 755 feet deep waters. In the ladies' toilets of the The Loch Ness Exhibition, that is.

The exhibition is a tourist magnet. We arrived just after opening time, but already the car park was busy. The exhibition was more balanced than I had expected in its presentation of the 'mystery' of Loch Ness (conclusion: probably not enough of a food chain in the loch to support a beast of the size of the supposed dinosaur relic). But there was the inevitable, heart-sinking, no escape exit through the gift shop.

Outside however was a glimpse of the delightful passion with which people have pursued the monster. This little yellow submarine was used for research dives during the 1960s. It looks like something out of The Clangers, or The Wombles. When I took this shot I didn't notice the boat in the nearby field, perhaps because it's nothing unusual. In Scotland you quite often come across boats moored halfway up a hill, as we'll see later in this tour.

The Loch itself isn't one of the most scenic in Scotland. It's long, and very deep, and often gloomy, as it was on our visit. There are no towering peaks along its shores. Still, it does give the impression that something may lurk in its depths, and it does have an iconic ruined castle - Urquhart Castle - from which this next shot was taken. Note the restraining rail courtesy of Historic Scotland, lest any tourist should topple over into the waters below. I wonder what the clansmen would have made of safety rails?

On our visit the castle was bristling with tourists. Every shot of battlements and craggy walls that I took turned out also to include dayglo waterproof jackets from across the globe. There was one bit of military excitement. A couple of F-16 fighter jets roared down the loch, just captured in the shot below. I know they were F-16s because I was informed by an American tourist who had been in the US Air Force and was overcome by patriotism at the sight of these planes screaming up the loch. I imagine the clansmen would have traded the safety rails for a couple of F-16s.

Our base for our 24 hours at Loch Ness was Kilmore Farmhouse, a B&B at Drumnadrochit which I can thoroughly recommend.

Drookit

2011-08-11T22:22:00.005+01:00

The rain-washed view from the top deck of a number 23 bus today, ploughing through streets like rivers in the centre of Edinburgh. Torrential summer rain, rivers in spate, and tourists crowding into the newly re-opened and blessedly free Royal Museum of Scotland to combine entertainment and shelter. We are all drookit (soaked).

Below, the Royal Mile at 10.30 am. This week, at the height of the Edinburgh International Festival, it should be busy with strolling tourists.

Another hazy bus-top photo, below: the splendidly kilted concierge of the Missoni Hotel on George IV Bridge hails a taxi.

What else to do in such weather but draw the curtains in the evening and immerse in summer reading? You'll detect a common rural theme. No Scottish titles among them, but I do have a title closer to home to recommend in a future post.

Result!

2011-08-04T21:58:00.005+01:00

It's exam results day in Scotland. 160,000 students receive their Advanced Highers, Highers, Intermediate, Standard Grade and Access results in the post today. These are the major school exams, used among other things for university entry.

Some 30,000 received their results by text yesterday, in error. The results are meant to come out on the same day by text, email and post, but those who had signed up to the text service were surprised to find a message with their results beeping on their phones yesterday afternoon. Cue much media sound and fury, even though the results themselves were accurate and no applicants were disadvanted in their university application by the phased release, because the universities already had all the results.

Among the early batch was my daughter, who received her Highers results. Below is a close-up of her certificate which arrived today. The Highers she sat this year are the first five in the list, and there then follow last year's results for the remaining eight grades.

Needless to say she's delighted, and so are we. Next up for her last year at school, Advanced Highers in History, Modern Studies and Music.

Edinburgh's Royal Wedding

2011-08-01T09:51:00.007+01:00

It was Edinburgh's turn on Saturday for a royal wedding - that of the Queen's granddaughter Zara Phillips and England rugby player Mike Tindall at the Canongate Kirk on the Royal Mile. They're pictured above leaving the church. All photos are courtesy of my daughter, who had a prime spot nearby.

Amazingly the sun shone, which was fortunate not just for the bride and groom, but for the three people who had camped overnight. Three is a pretty good number - this is Scotland, remember. Two of them were still fast asleep at 7 am when my daughter arrived to join friends who had staked out their position at 5 am.

A long wait then ensued, with ritual cheering of anything official that moved. Things began to warm up when the self-conscious but clearly delighted choir from Gordonstoun, Zara's old school, was escorted up the Royal Mile to the church.

Below, Mrs Queen is welcomed by the minister of the Canongate Kirk, Revd Neil Gardner.

The bride's arrival, below.

A collection of Royals after the ceremony. From left to right as far as the pillar: Princess Anne, the mother of the bride; her husband; Timothy Laurence; the minister, Neil Gardner; unknown - at least to me; Prince William (or the Earl of Strathearn as he is in Scotland); unknown man in suit; Her Royal Highness Catherine, Countess of Strathearn; Prince Harry.

Skywatch Friday - walking on the pointy bits

2011-07-10T08:34:00.004+01:00

More photos taken by my daughter on her school 'Project' in Skye and Kintail.

Scottish hills have a lot of thin pointy bits at the top.

Below, that well-known sport of skiing without skis.

The clearest of clear water for when you're thirsty.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Standing on the edge

2011-07-04T21:34:00.003+01:00

I'm not too keen on standing on the edge of sheer drops. Perhaps it's an age thing. My daughter's Projects group didn't seem to have a problem with it in the Cuillin range on Skye.

Skywatch Friday - Cuillin cloud

2011-06-30T21:45:00.005+01:00

A very belated catch-up on photos I meant to post this time last year. I don't know where this time of year goes every year. Because I'm even more squeezed for time than usual, to introduce this mini series I'm going to repeat the introduction I wrote to a similar series of photos taken by my son when it was his turn for 'S3 Projects':

'One of the unique features of my children's school is a two week period in May every year when the whole year group in S3, or the 14-15 year olds - all 230 of them - are split into small groups of about a dozen and go off into Scotland's wild places, with 3 or so teachers per group. No bookwork, no science-project-homework-on-the-side. Just physical endeavour, some of it pretty challenging. The prosaic name for this experience is 'S3 Projects'. It's based on the philosophy of the Scottish-born American environmentalist John Muir, who wrote "I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in." '

My son cycled 450 miles round the top of Scotland. You can follow his tour by clicking on the tag 'Cycling Project' in the tag cloud on the sidebar. He does feature in the photos at one point - he's holding the lamb in this post. Two years ago my daughter's Project went to Skye and Kintail, for two weeks of hill walking, kayaking and conservation work. The hillwalking on Skye was in the rocky Cuillin range, and was blessed by sunny weather.

In a rare thing for Skye, a cloud was a matter for curiosity.

More skies from around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Basement flair

2011-06-21T20:59:00.004+01:00

The New Town of Edinburgh is new in relative Scottish terms. Built between 1765 and 1850, it's an area of gracious neo-classical streets and squares, of townhouses and spacious flats. Very desirable.

When I'm walking through this area I like to look down, into the basement area below pavement level. This is a UNESCO World Heritage site, but it's very much lived-in. I love the juxtaposition of high end property and basic Scottish thrift, above. Why use a tumble dryer when you can put up a clothes line?

And gardening? Just use a basket.

We have several of these wicker hampers kicking around at home. One is in the loft, one in the garage, one at the allotment. I think I should liberate them from their dull storage duties. I'd draw the line at leaving my guitar outside as decor, however.

Stobo sculptures

2011-06-19T17:44:00.004+01:00

How can a week have passed since I meant to post more photos from our damp soujourn at Stobo? But pass it has, so I may as well get on and show you what I've been intending to post all week: sculptures by local artists which were dotted around the gardens.

The gorilla in the bamboo might appear incongruous, but for me it immediately recalled a favourite childhood book, 'A Stranger at Green Knowe', where a gorilla escaped from a zoo finds refuge at the old house of Green Knowe. The series of Green Knowe books by Lucy Boston is one of the great classics of English children's literature. The first book especially, 'The Children of Green Knowe', is utterly magical. I hesitate whether to visit the setting of the books one day - the Manor at Hemmingford Grey, lest the magic disappear in contact with reality.

Below are some of my favourite pieces from the garden opening. I could see a place for all of them either in my garden or at the allotment. I wonder what our allotment fox would make of the penguins?

This last piece is especially lovely. I coveted it. One day, perhaps...

Tempestuous morn in Stobo

2011-06-12T20:33:00.008+01:00

More accurately, a tempestuous afternoon, and the rain was relentless and drenching rather than volleying. I'm at a loss this year for where to place Matthew Arnold's 'tempestuous morn in early June'.

So, some tempestuous morn in early June,
When the year's primal burst of bloom is o'er,
Before the roses and the longest day -
When garden-walks and all the grassy floor
With blossoms red and white of fallen May
And chestnut-flowers are strewn -
So have I heard the cuckoo's parting cry,
From the wet field, through the vext garden-trees,
Come with the volleying rain and tossing breeze;
The bloom is gone, and with the bloom go I!

We've had tempest, but a dry one. The May and chestnut flowers have fallen before June came in. The roses - wild dog roses and garden ones - are already in flower. Only the longest day seems a constant. It is all very disconcerting.

So I may as well fix on yesterday's afternoon in the Japanese water garden at Stobo Home Farm. The occasion was a charity opening of the garden in aid of St Columba's hospice in Edinburgh. My daughter's string quartet was providing some of the music for the event. The woodland setting was charming, and on a fine day would have been delightful. As it was their fingers froze (temperature: 8 degrees C), their bows loosened, and their instruments did not like the damp one bit. Heroically, they played their two sets in an open-fronted summer house on a small island.

Access was by slippery stepping stones.

The other musician was a young piper from my daughter's school. The summerhouse would have been deafening for him, even with standard issue earplugs. So he found the driest spot under a tree, and would dismantle the drones and dry them out when he got home.

Below, the car park in the fine Scottish tradition: a soggy, muddy field, with enthusiastic marshalling provided by army cadets.

With all this water, it was inevitable that there would have to be a trip to the 'facilities', down this farm track...

Today I've been cleaning mud off shoes. I've even had to wash my shoelaces. Still, the music was appreciated, and the quartet knows to add wellies to its kit list for any outside engagement in the Scottish summer.

They're everywhere

2011-06-08T06:50:00.005+01:00

You can take for granted driving along behind a giant sporran. The mind does boggle a bit however if you think about it for a minute...

And are you incentivised by this offer?

For readers wondering what use this disembodied sporran has, edited to add links to examples of sporrans 'in action', here and a festive and kitsch version here. Who says the Scots don't have a sense of humour?

Highers - finished!

2011-05-31T19:38:00.004+01:00

Relaxation all round in our house tonight. The last of our daughter's 5 Highers was today. Phew. This is part of the second paper of the two Modern Studies Higher papers. From Higher English on 13 May, through History, Italian and Music, it's been a long 3 weeks. No maths or science, you'll note. They were left behind with a sigh of relief after last year's Standard Grade and Intermediate 2 exams. As we don't have a baccalaureate system (tho daughter's school is going to be the first Scottish school to offer the International Baccalaureate alongside Scottish qualifications), there are no compulsory subjects. You might argue that this produces lop-sided students, tho plenty mix History and Physics, or Chemistry and Art. You could also argue that it lets students play to their strengths. I know it took every ounce of willpower that I had - and zero understanding - to scrape a pass in the equivalent of Standard/Intermediate 2 Maths, dyscalculic that I am. Don't ask me to explain the difference between Standard Grade and Intermediate 2, or why we have a mixed economy at this level. They're going to be replaced by the new 'Curriculum for Excellence' soon.

The exam timetable is centralised, so all over Scotland school students will have been sitting the same papers at the same time. Exams are set by the Scottish Qualifications Authority. If you're really interested, you can access the timetable here.

I'm impressed by the Modern Studies syllabus and exam. The syllabus covers contemporary social and political issues in Britain and worldwide. I would say that my daughter has a greater understanding of these issues than I do. As well as the knowledge base, the exam format really nails transferrable skills. The 'decision making task', above, involves using information from a variety of sources, including statistical data, to make a reasoned case for or against a proposal.

The earlier paper this morning took the form of 'classic' discursive essays on four topics, which in daughter's case were on voting behaviour, the interactions of health and wealth, social and economic change in China, and factors affecting development in Africa.

So now all that remains is to wait for the results in August.

The Assembly

2011-05-24T21:02:00.005+01:00

This is 'Assembly week' in Edinburgh - the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. The Assembly is the supreme court of the Church and has the power to make laws governing the operation of the Church. The business is conducted by debates about reports presented to the Assembly, with the 850 delegates, or 'commissioners' voting on issues. The commissioners are ministers, elders and members of the diaconate from presbytries in Scotland, England, Europe and Jerusalem. Delegates also attend from churches across the world. The Assembly hall on the Mound, above, is thronged with commissioners, and accents ranging from Aberdeen to Africa. There's a video stream on the Assembly website, and TV coverage on BBC Scotland.

My husband is a commissioner this year, taking a week of his annual leave allowance to attend. The days can be long. Yesterday's debate on same sex relationships and the ministry understandably went on late in the day.

Grip Fast

2011-05-22T09:35:00.010+01:00

As part of the flood prevention works in my home village, the road bridge over the Burn of Rothes was replaced. It's turned out to be a fairly utilitarian stone structure (tho the previous version was even more so). However it has two redeeming features apart from being less likely to be swept away in the next flood. It's built of a reddish stone, which is perhaps a nod to the red sandstone cliffs in the upper reaches of the burn and along the River Spey. Perhaps. I'm just thankful they didn't use the horrible fake stone that's a feature elsewhere in the flood defences.

The other is the crests carved on either side of the bridge parapets. The castle in the village belonged to the Leslie clan. You can see what's left of it here, here and here. The founder of the clan was a Hungarian nobleman , Bartholomew, who came to Scotland in 1067, and became chamberlain to the Queen. One of his duties was to carry the Queen on his own horse, with the Queen riding pillion behind him and clinging on to a belt round his waist. One day they were crossing a swollen burn when the horse stumbled. Fearing she would be thrown off, the Queen cried, understandably, "Gin the buckle bide!" (I hope the buckle's going to hold!). Bartholomew said the only thing he could have said, "Grip fast!", and they reached the other side safely. After this near miss Bartholomew added two further buckles to his belt. Three buckles on a belt became the Arms of the Leslies, with the motto "Grip Fast!". And from heroics to the mundane - the shield with the three buckles formed the crest of my primary school blazer.

I was pleased to see that the new bridge has already been decorated by a passing bird, probably a swallow. They skim up and down the burn in summer, chasing the insects that dance above the water.

Of trees and floods

2011-05-14T08:08:00.005+01:00

In Spring the Spey valley is lit up by blossoming gean trees. They shine out among the shy birch and larch foliage and the dark winter green of the conifer woods. It's difficult to take a photo in my home village without a distillery popping up as well. So here I give you the Glenrothes distillery pagoda with geans, and below, the distillery warehouses.

Elsewhere in the village however trees have been sacrificed to the new flood defences. Two severe floods in recent years have led to a flood prevention scheme being put in place. Three burns run down from the hills to converge on the village. When they're in spate they're tremendously powerful, and changing rainfall patterns mean that drought is followed by concentrated heavy rains. Of course homes and businesses need to be protected, and that has to be the main concern, but walking up the course of the burn recently I wondered why so many trees needed to be cut down.

On the left in the photo below was a line of graceful, mature trees. Access was obviously needed to get in to the opposite bank, but did they need to take them all out?

Below, two houses stood where there is now new planting and a paved ramp down to the burn. The householders have been rehoused in very lovely new houses built to a high specification.

The new wall alongside distillery warehouses has led to the removal of a line of poplar trees.

Below, what used to be a small grassy field has now been landscaped within an inch of its life. It is quite startling to see urban landscaping along what used to be a natural river bank.

But here, this is where I suddenly felt a lump in my throat. They have cut down a magnificent lime tree which stood at the burn side of the green hut you can just see in the centre of the shot. It was a stately, grand tree. One of my happiest childhood memories is of standing under it when the blossom was out, listening to the "murmuring of innumerable bees" and breathing in the sweet scent as if I would somehow capture the essence of summer.

I'm doing the only thing I can do, which is to dedicate a tree through the Woodland Trust. If we had a big enough garden I would plant my own lime tree. But longer term, I have a plan for a bit of guerilla planting. I will bide my time.

Taking shape

2011-05-11T20:48:00.001+01:00

It's taking shape again - but what is 'it'? Answers in a comment please.

Extreme Edinburgh cycling

2011-05-07T08:20:00.002+01:00

Sometimes the extreme bit is where you park your bike, especially if you live in a Ramsay Garden flat.

This is the whole block of Ramsay Garden seen from Princes Street, giving you a better sense of how elevated the bike rack balcony is.

And 'life size' as seen from Princes Street, with the next door neighbours' place, that castle up the hill, to give you a sense of scale.

Sometimes, the extreme bit is how you ride your bike. Thanks to Jane for pointing me to this YouTube clip. See how many Edinburgh locations you can identify while you marvel at Danny MacAskill.

Royal Wedding - a nation of shopkeepers

2011-04-29T08:48:00.013+01:00

From John Lewis's understated notice inviting us to raise a cheer, to Royal Warrant holders Penhaligons with their English vintage perfumes, Scotland's shop windows have embraced the Royal Wedding.

Scottish souvenir shops are flying the flag.

John Lewis will sell you a Cool Britannia rug.

And of course mugs and plates and tea towels a-plenty in Emma Bridgewater.

In St Andrews, home of the first stirrings of royal romance, every window has a royal theme. Some are refined, such as this antique shop window.

The latest fashion - a wedding cake of cheese, in I. J. Mellis cheesemongers.

I'll leave you with the place where it really all started. Well, one of them. Enjoy the day!

Royal Wedding escape

2011-04-27T21:44:00.007+01:00

If you want to escape the Royal Wedding Bank Holiday Weekend, which has now assumed the status of having initial capitals, and the bunting and the crowns (tho I have to confess we had been in this Tesco store in Elgin for an hour before we noticed that it was festooned with Union Jacks...)

You can always turn to Bonnie:

And her retro picnic basket, complete with ... interesting contents. Any suggestions as to what the picnic might consist of?

St Andrews Open Day

2011-04-23T21:55:00.003+01:00

We are on the university trail again, starting with last week's open day at St Andrews. I was exceptionally well-behaved, only taking my camera out at the very end of the day, when the crowds of prospective students and their parents had dispersed and there was less scope for being an embarrassing mum. The weather was not particularly photo-friendly: a typical east coast haar (thick sea fog) in the morning, followed by an afternoon of almost-sunshine. Part of me regretted that it wasn't raining - it's always good to get an early dose of realism about the place in which you might spend 4 years. In the photo above, the spire of St Salvator's Chapel fades into the bright haze. The two red gowned individuals are undergraduate students who have just finished a day of guiding visitors around the university.

You'll see that gown of one the students is slipping off their left shoulder. This is carefully orchestrated. Below, you can see three of the four ways in which the gown is worn. On the left, barely hanging on, is the gown of a fourth year student. In the middle, the gown is slipping off the shoulders slightly - denoting a second year student. On the right, the off the left shoulder look shows that the student is in the Faculty of Arts. A first year student wears the gown high on both shoulders.

One lot of ancient university customs down, three or four more to go on our open day rounds. British students can apply to a maximum of five universities - so far there are four on my daughter's list. Applications open in September for entry the following autumn, so we'll have a summer of touring campuses with historic buildings, state-of-the-art this, that and the other, to say nothing of eye-wateringly tiny hall of residence rooms.

Casting a clout

2011-04-19T21:02:00.004+01:00

This Spring is so warm - so unsettlingly warm - that Scots are casting clouts all over the place, despite the old saying, 'Ne'er cast a clout till May be oot'. May isn't out yet, but it might as well be by the balmy temperatures, leafy trees and blossom that's almost overwhelming. These shots were taken a few weeks ago, along part of my walk to work. Now the various 'clouts' are almost hidden by foliage.

First to go were the gloves. I can understand that. My own gloves haven't emerged from the box in the hall for about a month now.

The shot below was taken in a blustery wind, hence the blurring. If I remember, I was also being looked at rather strangely by some passers-by.

Next, even the babies are feeling the heat.

But how do you lose a running shoe sock?

What I would like to know is - is there one person who's made it their mission to hang cast-off clothing on twigs by the side of the path, or is it a general impulse of the Edinburgh population? Does this happen where you live? And what do you find adorning trees or fences?

Theory test

2011-04-17T21:18:00.005+01:00

It was much simpler in my day. You sat your driving test, and at the end, while you were still shaky from the emergency stop and the three-point turn, the examiner asked you a few random questions from the Highway Code.

Now there's a separate theory test, which has to be passed before you can take the practical test. It's a whole industry. The test is divided into a multiple choice section, and a hazard perception section. To prepare you need three books as 'source material', and you can buy a DVD with practice hazard perception tests. And the test itself costs £35. If you want to see how you'd get on with the hazard perception, there's - what else? - a youtube clip.

My favourite multiple choice question from the practice material is the one that asks what you should do if a shepherd asks you to stop for his flock of sheep. Good to know that driving in Scotland still takes account of country life.

The tests are computer-based, and administered at various centres across the country. My daughter sat her test last week, at the bracing hour of 8.30 a.m., and since it was on my way to work I chummed her as far as the test centre. Rather charmingly for such a high tech enterprise, it's located in a cobbled back street that looks as if a horse-drawn cab might appear at any minute. However the 'to let' sign suggests that it won't be there for much longer.

A section of original pavement has survived towards the top of the hill.

Towards the bottom of the hill there's a section of the original central gutter - much cleaner than it would have been a few hundred years ago.

And the test? She passed - so now it's 'just' the practical part to go. You can start to drive at the age of 17 in the UK, with most people learning on manual vehicles since automatics are still the exception here.

Skywatch Friday - castle beacon

2011-04-14T20:49:00.007+01:00

Against a clear Spring sky a brazier on Edinburgh Castle's ramparts waits for fuel. I pass the Castle every day on my way to work, and it's easy to forget that it was built for war.

The stark outline of the brazier brought this home to me as I took these shots.

I haven't visited the Castle since I was 6. Perhaps it's time to scrape together the £14 entry fee. It's an expensive business being a tourist in your own city.

See more skies around the world (free!) at Skywatch Friday.

'Flying' the flag

2011-04-08T07:47:00.004+01:00

Inspired by Lily Hydrangea at Long Island Daily Photo, whose Skywatch this week has a home supplies shop proudly flying the American flag. And for Bud from Kansas, a new visitor to my blog and an honorary Scot, and Christine from Aberdeen, currently in the US but still posting glimpses of Aberdonian life in Writing from Scotland.

Displays of the Saltire, the Scottish flag, used to be pretty rare. Now it flies proudly on many buildings, and adorns national life from rugby shirts to taxis. We still don't fly it outside schools, that I'm aware of, nor branches of B&Q and Homebase. You might spot the occasional house with a Saltire on a pole in the garden, but we are nowhere near the domestic pride in their flag that the Scandinavians have. I have memories of travelling through Sweden by train, marvelling at every red-painted house in a forest clearing with its pennant flag fluttering from a flagpole in the garden. Or that classic scene of painted wooden houses on rocky outcrops in the archipelagoes off Stockholm, each with their flag flying from house or flagpole. Yellow house, blue sea and sky, blue and yellow flag. And the same in Finland and Norway.

Still, a flying taxi's not bad.

Strawberries, anyone?

2011-04-06T20:39:00.006+01:00

Along the banks of the River Tay, Scotland's strawberry fields are gearing up for an early crop.

This area has always been famed for its soft fruit, but the season now is vastly expanded by the use of polytunnels and horticultural fleece. In my childhood strawberries didn't appear until the end of June. My father always used to visit the Royal Highland Show in Edinburgh around the 23rd of June (he was a grain merchant, and this was - and is - the main social gathering of the farming world). He would return with a couple of punnets of precious early strawberries, at least a week before our northern berries in Moray were ripe.

Below, the tunnel doors are closed to increase the heat. I think the plants in these tunnels are growing in raised beds, to make picking easier. Meantime my own plants at the allotment are sitting thinking about putting forth a few new leaves. We'll be having traditionally-timed strawberries in June.

Yirdit coaties

2011-03-31T22:02:00.003+01:00

Ma dochter's coaties. They're yirdit - fit's she bin daein? Plowterin throu dubs, nae doot. Quines is jist as fool an orra as loons. Ma mither's mither wid hae gied her a pymin, but we arna sae coorse the day.

My daughter's gymshoes/plimsolls (or at a pinch, Converse). They're filthy - what's she been doing? Doubtless walking through mud. Girls are just as dirty and messy as boys. My grandmother would have given her a spanking, but we're not so ill-disposed these days.

In giving you this little taste of Scots I have to say first of all that my grandmother would have done no such thing. My mother often told me how she and her brothers were threatened with a 'pymin' for sitting on the upturned keels of boats in summer, and getting their clothes covered in melting tar, but that the threat was never carried through.

I also realise how local my variant of Scots must be. I couldn't find 'coaties', 'yirdit' or 'pymin' in my Concise Scots Dictionary. They may be outwith its concise scope. But just to highlight two words of Scandinavian origin: the modern Swedish for 'earth' is 'jord', and 'yird' in Scots means 'earth'. But its extension into 'yirdit' for 'dirty' is perhaps local to North East Scots. And 'quine' has a modern Scandinavian equivalent in 'kvinne', 'woman'.

'Dubs' is an interesting one. I've written elsewhere about 'glaur'. But dubs is a different sort of mud. Drier, forming into clumps. The sort of mud that drops off tractor wheels and leaves a trail behind on the road. My father knows a farmer who considerately puts out a warning sign to alert drivers that they are about to encounter 'Dubs on Road'. Perhaps we're like the Inuit, and have a rich vocabulary for mud.

This post was sparked off by the questions about Scots in our current census. I only discovered after the event that there is a website to help people decide how to answer the relevant census questions. My father sent me the local community newsletter, which contained this article:

"Included in the census this time is a question about Scots dialect. To may in this 'airt', that means Doric, but Scots dialects are many and varied over the country. You are asked if you understand and speak dialect. Now many folk of a certain age group remember full well being told to 'speak properly' (ie English) at school and at work, but as home, playground and leisure, the local tongue was widespread. Forget about 'speaking proper' and answer the question!
For everyone, there is a website to help www.ayecan.com, and for those unsure about computers, there is bound to be someone who can show you, so just 'speir'. "

'Speir', meaning 'ask', has a modern Scandinavian equivalent in 'spoerre', 'to ask'. I can't import the proper slash through the 'o' of spoerre without the html doing strange things, so have to give an anglicised spelling here.

I was going to go on to give an elegant summary of Scots as a language of Germanic origin, and Gaelic as being of Celtic origin. But ah'm fooner't, (I've run out of steam), so I suggest you look at the Aye Can website, and perhaps click on the map to hear variants of Scots. Having listened to all the clips I would say they're fairly mild renditions of Scots, and don't give the full flavour of a Shetlander or an Aberdonian in full flow. But you can get an idea of how rich and varied Scots is, and perhaps why I felt it was important to tick all those boxes on the census form.

Ye'll hae tae hing on til the morn

2011-03-30T21:48:00.004+01:00

tae rade ma post aboot Scots. Ah hid a sair fecht the day, an ah'm fair wabbit.

(you'll have to wait until tomorrow to read my post about Scots. I've had a trying day and am tired out.)

Scotland's Census

2011-03-28T21:15:00.007+01:00

Once every 10 years we have a census, and yesterday was the official census day in Scotland. As a linguist I found this the most interesting question:

My husband and I ticked all the way down in the English and Scots columns, but left Scottish Gaelic blank. That didn't make me feel any shame or a sudden desire to learn Gaelic. As an East coast Scot whose forebears spoke a dialect of Scots rich in words of Scandinavian origin, I feel that Gaelic has very little to do with me. I'm more concerned with the survival of Scots as a living language. Our son, filling in his questionnaire while away at university, reported that he hadn't filled in the Scots column. I think he underestimated his ability to understand Scots, but it's true that our children haven't had the bilingual exposure that was a feature of my childhood, and I regret that.

Lest you think that Scotland lacks linguistic diversity, have a look at the list of community languages in which help can be accessed with completing the census. Gaelic comes first in the list, followed by the rest in alphabetical order:

Scottish Saturday - a Bach sandwich

2011-03-27T17:22:00.007+01:00

Inspired by Fay at The Wind and The Wellies, who posted last week about her Orkney Saturday, I thought I would set out my day yesterday. Saturdays apart, do check out Fay's lunchtime walk at Beach Action. I think you'll envy her having this walk on her doorstep to clear her head.

But back to the metropolis - or back to Bach, as the day started just off Princes Street at St Cuthbert's church with my daughter going to a 9.30 a.m. rehearsal for the evening performance of the St Matthew Passion. I headed up to the Usher Hall box office to buy my ticket, only to find that the tickets had been taken down to the church for sale at the door that evening. The rehearsal was short, because my daughter and her choir mates from school were only involved in the initial chorus, so we had time on our hands before our next appointment, and what better way to spend it than to wander through the weekly Farmers' Market.

Purchased: some locally-made chocolate from The Chocolate Tree , and a large loaf of light rye bread from the German baker Falko. This loaf would weigh ever heavier on us as we walked the length of Princes Street, acquiring more shopping as we went. Note to self - always take a string shopping bag when going to the Farmers' Market. We did eventually break into the bar of maple and pecan chocolate to sustain us.

Still taking it in turns to carry the huge loaf, we made for our appointment in the high fashion temple of Harvey Nichols. It's not easy to appear stylish and chic while traversing this fearsome 'if you have to ask the price you can't afford it' store while clasping a fraying paper package shedding a light dusting of flour, but I'm confident we pulled it off.

Just time after that to get the bus home, deposit the loaf - at last! - cook a meal, and head out again for the 6.30 start of the performance. I don't have a photo of the venue - by the time I thought of it in the morning we had The Loaf to deal with, and in the evening there was no time for framing a shot.

An evening of sublime music, even if the pews of St Cuthbert's felt a trifle hard after 3 hours. And the loaf was very good indeed with lunch today.

Skywatch Friday - taking Spring where you find it

2011-03-25T06:26:00.005Z

I have to admit, I am feeling pent-up in the city. Even a city as lovely, small-scale and history-filled as Edinburgh. So I have to take my Spring where I find it. Such as these catkins on my walk to work yesterday. I was craning back and zooming in with my camera to try to capture the bumble bees feasting on the pollen right at the top of the tree. Unsuccessfully, as it turns out, but the glorious yellow and blue will go some way to satisfying my yearning for Spring.

Others may find that beer helps.

More Spring skies from around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Travelling from winter to spring

2011-03-20T21:02:00.007Z

Halfway down the A9 last Sunday afternoon we were midway between winter and spring, with the snowline clearly visible. As was the speed camera - the yellow and red striped box on the left.

We had left Speyside in heavy falling snow. Ruthven barracks looked as bleak as I've ever seen it, and I could imagine the soldiers stationed there to quell the Jacobites in 1745 pierced to the bone with cold as they looked out on a similar scene.

Coming down from the Drumochter pass the deer were close to the road, foraging for food.

I was quite pleased with these paparazzi shots, as we were on the dual carriageway section at that point and travelling rather fast (no, I wasn't driving). For those who don't know about the A9, it's the main route north through the central Highlands, up to Inverness and on to the northeastern tip of Scotland. 270 miles of mostly single carriageway in each direction, a lot of frustration and a high number of fatal accidents. At the rare dual carriageway sections everyone speeds up and overtakes frantically, and then settles back into an only slightly re-arranged queue of traffic when the dual section ends.

It's best not to get too frustrated and to enjoy the scenery. Or the journey from winter to spring. By the time we had reached Blair Atholl spring was unfolding at lower levels. The castle-like building is a hotel, by the way - the Atholl Palace.

Stills

2011-03-15T21:22:00.004Z

When you return to a place you know well after an absence, things that were once mundane strike you as exotic. As with these copper whisky stills in my home village. Until I moved away from home to go to university, it was just part of the landscape for me to come round a corner and come face to face with...creatures like this. Now, on a visit to see my dad this weekend, I found myself whipping out my camera. These are the top halves of stills, and these

are the bottom halves. All sitting out in the falling snow in the coppersmith's yard, waiting to be transported to their distillery. Every distillery has a different shape of still - it's one of the factors that gives each whisky its unique taste. My home village has a very well known firm of coppersmiths, who produce handmade stills not just for whisky, but also rum, gin, tequila and bourbon.

Subject choice

2011-03-09T20:34:00.004Z

The first of the 'last times' that is going to be a feature of the next 15 months. My daughter has just chosen her subjects for her last year at school. This is the 'subject choice form' which lists the subjects on offer, in separate columns to avoid timetable clashes. The school offers a huge range of subjects at the most advanced level, Advanced Higher, and also at the two lower levels of Higher and Intermediate 2 for those who want to take up a new subject at a manageable level and gain a qualification after only one year of study in their last year of school. There are also a few subjects such as Music and Art which offer the English qualifications of A level and Advanced Subsidiary. (Snappy names, eh?) Despite this variety, if you look at the close-up below you'll see that we have encountered the dreaded clash.

Column 4 is the only column which has Advanced Higher Music, but it also contains Advanced Higher History, another desired choice. Fortunately the school has been able to put in place a creative work-around. Not bad with 230 students in the year group. Her other choice, Modern Studies, is really social and political studies. I don't know why they don't just call it that.

All's well that ends well

2011-03-07T21:02:00.004Z

I'm happy to report that our tourists are on their feet and enjoying the wonders of Scottish scenery. Whatever it was that laid them low has passed. my bet is that they were escaping from an attack of the Highland midge, but many other creative suggestions were made.

And the rabbit is still there.

Usher Hall

2011-03-04T21:50:00.003Z

Old and new architecture together at Edinburgh's Usher Hall. The 1914 original to the left, and the angular glass extension completed in 2010 in the centre of the shot.

We were at a concert there last night: American violinist Joshua Bell and British cellist Steven Isserlis, with the Academy of St Martin in the Fields. The first time I've experienced a standing ovation at a concert (we Scots are a reserved lot).

As with many things in Scotland there's a connection with our national drink. The hall was built with money gifted to the city by Andrew Usher, son of a whisky distiller.

Skywatch Friday - grey

2011-03-03T08:53:00.003Z

Not a lot of excitement in our skies just now. In fact this absence of sky is as exciting as it's got. You can just see the vague spire of Edinburgh's Gothic Spaceship.

Somewhere in the world there will be vibrant skies at Skywatch Friday.

City Spring

2011-03-03T08:49:00.004Z

Spring in the city can be a little messy. This is the aftermath of the 'Winter Wonderland' in Princes Street gardens.

Highland mystery tour

2011-02-26T08:06:00.007Z

This novel advertisement caught my eye in the window of a Broughton Street pub. Tours of Scotland in a beautifully equipped Volkswagen camper van. The company 'Bonnie Campers' has two vans available for hire - Bonnie and Clyde. (sorry about the blurry picture - there was a brisk Scottish gale buffeting me as I took these shots)

What made me stop and look in the first place was not so much the camper vans (I'm not really a car person), but the recreation of a section of Highland road, complete with Highland cows and obviously stunning scenery all around, judging by the rapt gaze of the two tourists. It reminded me of the model farm I had as a child, with all the accoutrements that could be bought to go with it. These included some rather strange plastic trees, which looked as if they had mutated after an unfortunate accident involving nuclear waste.

But what really made me stare was the scene behind the van.

And the fact that the other occupants of the van seemed to be ignoring their distress.

There's even a handily placed phone box - mobile phone reception is patchy in the Highlands - but there's no-one in there dialling 999.

Various scenarios flitted through my mind, but I'd like to hear what you think. What has happened to these unfortunate tourists? Why are their friends just standing there? Are they their friends? And what does the rabbit have to do with it?

Whatever it is, I'm sure it has nothing to do with Bonnie and Clyde. If I didn't live here already and have a car (a Volkswagen!), I'd be hiring one of them to tour the Highlands in retro comfort. Do check out their website - www.bonniecampers.co.uk.

The old road

2011-02-23T21:37:00.005Z

I had forgotten about road signs like this until we came across this one on our Borders walk. All of a sudden I was hurtled back to my childhood. Black and white striped signposts, empty roads, cars with 'trafficators' which flapped up from the doorpost to indicate turning. I read on Wikipedia that these 'have become increasingly rare since the 1950s'. I'm not THAT old - this was in the 1960s, but things moved slowly in north east Scotland. One of my earliest memories is of lying in bed looking out of the window on a winter's night, across to the village of Craigellachie under a starry sky. Car headlights came slowly down the road towards the station, and I remember my surprise at the unusual sight of these twin moving stars. I must have been about 4 years old.

For part of our walk we were on the old road between Melrose and the village of Eildon. It seemed to have become a private road between farms. Very gradually, the verges were creeping over the tarred surface.

The Romans had forts in this area for about 100 years, until they withdrew south to Hadrian's Wall in about 180 AD. Their military roads must have seen the same slow encroachment of leaves and beechmast.

Poetry, pastures and a pot of gold

2011-02-20T11:07:00.005Z

From our muddy walk around Melrose last week. Above, the stone marking the site of the Eildon Tree, where in the 13th century Thomas the Rhymer is supposed to have met the Queen of the Fairies and been spirited away to Elfland from where he returned years later as a prophet. His prophesies are meant to include the death of King Alexander III in 1296, the succession of Robert the Bruce to the throne, and the Union of the Crowns in 1603.

Below, typical rolling Borders landscape.

On our drive home we passed through sun and showers, and a succession of glorious rainbows.

My love is like a red red...cactus?

2011-02-14T17:59:00.004Z

Alongside the usual red roses, heart-shaped leaves make a novel Valentine's Day gift.

My Valentine's Day gift today? A very muddy walk in the Borders countryside south of Edinburgh, with showers of hail and rain to clear away the city cobwebs.

You have been warned

2011-02-13T12:19:00.004Z

Scottish romance in the Braveheart tradition.

I just want to direct you to a great Shetland blog I've discovered. Kenneth Shearer's Kendoza blog has daily photos about Shetland life. Two visits to Shetland have left me longing to return, but in the meantime this is the next best thing.

Collective effort

2011-02-12T19:40:00.002Z

Unfortunately there weren't enough of us today. The score in the Six Nations rugby match at Murrayfield was Scotland 6, Wales 24.

When I passed this poster (is that the right word? it seems too big for a poster) yesterday morning, the comma was up at the top of the 'y' of 'play', like an apostrophe. When I passed by on my way home in the evening, it had shifted down to be a comma. I wonder whose concern for grammar got it sorted.

Beautifying

2011-02-09T21:17:00.003Z

If you're a Scottish man, the national dress can be demanding.

Skywatch Friday - Bass Rock

2011-01-25T21:48:00.005Z

Regular readers will immediately notice that this is not the usual quality of photo on this blog. All that slow motion water stuff and a vaguely artistic sky.

I spent a bone-numbingly cold Sunday afternoon on a beach near North Berwick on a photo tuition session, getting to grips with our 'big' camera. The one with all the f-stops and other items. Out to sea, the Bass Rock provided a convenient point for explanations about focal length and composition. Afterwards my mind was a jumble of numbers.

But I've signed up for a weekend course in October. Meantime normal photo standards will be resumed.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Poetry

2011-01-25T20:10:00.003Z

One of the lesser-known poems of Robert Burns - "66% extra free". Happy Burns Night!

Envirionmental adverstising

2011-01-22T11:49:00.002Z

On a wall at Edinburgh University - a charity event, environmentally advertised. Who says students these days only think about themselves?

The train to Glasgow

2011-01-16T16:48:00.012Z

Heading for the 13.15 train to Glasgow last Saturday. We were taking our son and belongings back to university, and to free up room in the car my daughter and I elected to take the train and meet the men there. Very noble of us. It also gave us a shopping interlude together in Glasgow before taking the underground to student flat land in the West End.

Here is the train to Glasgow.

I hope Scottish readers will recognise this as the first line of Wilma Horsburgh's poem of the same name. I didn't see the driver, and thought the embarrassment factor for my daughter would be too great if I asked the guard if I could take a photo of him. So I can't really say:

"Here is the driver,
Mr. MacIver,
Who drove the train to Glasgow.

Here is the guard from Donibristle
Who waved his flag and blew his whistle
To tell the driver,
Mr. MacIver,
To start the train to Glasgow."

It's a great poem for chanting with children, who even if they can't remember the whole thing, always come in triumphantly with '...the train to Glasgow' at the end of each verse. The poem has a cage of escaped hens on the train saved by the actions of a wee boy, Donald.

"Now Donald was quick and Donald was neat
And Donald was nimble on his feet.
He caught the hens..."

No hens on our train, just a quiet 40 minute journey through the snowy countryside.

Above, Linlithgow, with churches and chimneys and crow-stepped gables.

At some stations the original buildings have survived. Looking at all the chimneys, I was nostalgic for a station waiting room with a glowing coal fire.

Others are of post 1970s bland box style.

But even here there are compensations, when you can glimpse the hills beyond the Firth of Forth.

Even the 'output' from the oil refinery at Grangemouth didn't look too bad.

And finally to an empty Queen Street station. Everyone was in the shops, that's why...

Skywatch Friday - turning a corner

2011-01-14T08:02:00.003Z

Sometimes a Skywatch grabs you by the scruff of the neck, and sometimes it steals up on you, like the extra minutes of daylight on a January day.

So with this thin grey line traced in the sky. Nothing striking, but once you've noticed it you start to wonder. What was it that made this plane come to the edge of the bank of cloud and then turn a corner in the sky? At that altitude air traffic over Edinburgh is usually heading towards Greenland, taking advantage of the earth's curve for a short cut down over North America. How I love that huge emptiness, seen from 38,000 feet, of tundra and lakes flashing in the sun, and knowing that you're heading for Vancouver or Los Angeles.

But back to Scotland... If you look carefully below, you'll see that a second plane has also executed an 'oops, time to turn' manoeuvre, 10 minutes after the first on my walk to work.

Not remotely bothered by planes was this seagull enjoying the steamy warmth from the Lady Haig poppy factory chimney.

And even in January, there's a glimpse of sun to come.

More skies from around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Old? and new

2011-01-12T21:25:00.006Z

This is my 'old' school, in Elgin. Old = built in 1969. I should say that it is not normally surrounded by barricades...

Below, the beginning of the new Elgin Academy. The old one is now too old. Next time I'm up in Elgin I'll take a photo of the real 'old' Academy, which needless to say has lasted longer than 40 years.

Here's hoping

2011-01-09T21:25:00.004Z

One of the casualties of our snowy weather has been the weekly rubbish collection. Many streets seem to be too icy for the refuse lorries to venture down. We're especially hoping for a collection tomorrow, since having a Monday collection day means that it's coincided with the Christmas and New Year public holidays.

Houses have their individual green bins, usually kept in the garage or the garden, while blocks of flats have communal bins situated on the street, as above. And it's all piling up.

Skywatch Friday - whisky skies

2011-01-07T22:03:00.006Z

Do these plumes of smoke spoil these midwinter skies?

Perhaps not when you know that they come from the boilers that fuel the copper stills that make the malt whisky. In the first shot, the Glen Spey chimney, and Glen Grant in the second.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Enterprising

2011-01-04T16:34:00.004Z

The snow had gone by the time I encountered this sign in the Aberlour chemist, but I thought it was a good example of joined up marketing.

You can see Gammack's snow shovels here.

Colour!

2011-01-01T22:53:00.009Z

When a walk by the sea offers only shades of grey disappearing into the west - the wall of Hopeman harbour, Burghead on its promontory, and the hills of the Black Isle, all under a fine, small rain - you take any colour you can get.

The green of these seaweed-covered rocks recalls the lush grass of May.

Below, a burn running down to the sea brings out lilac and mauve tones in the sand.

Orange lichen on ruddy sandstone rocks, with some beach art as a bonus.

Hogmanay provisions

2010-12-31T17:53:00.002Z

Slick advertising in the window of Walker's bakery shop in Aberlour (population c.900). The Christmas display against a holly-patterned background was whisked away this week, to be replaced by the traditional provisions for Hogmanay - shortbread and whisky, with some fruit cake and cherry cake thrown in for good measure.

Wishing you a Happy New Year, and safe first-footing this Hogmanay.

Skywatch Friday - Boxing Day sunrise

2010-12-30T15:26:00.014Z

At its height, the Boxing Day sunrise filled the sky with glory.

It started gently. This is the view south-east from my Dad's garden, towards the river Spey and the Conval Hills.

This was about 8.40 a.m.

The colour of the sky over the Convals was a shade that I can only describe as Laura Ashley duck egg blue. We have Laura Ashley kitchen seat pads in just this combination of blue and peach. It was rather nice to see it in the sky:

More glorious skies from around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

River Spey, Christmas Day

2010-12-29T12:21:00.005Z

Our Christmas Day walk was under a grey sky, with just a glimpse of a pale lemon sunset in the west. The Spey was sludgy with floating ice.

To the north, hail showers drifted over the lower slopes of Ben Aigen.

A last shaft of sunlight brought out warm colour in the willows by the river, but the water reflected that unique icy blue of the midwinter sky.

Festive, Moray style

2010-12-27T16:12:00.004Z

We were in two minds about the tastefulness of these Christmas tree decorations in Johnstons of Elgin cafe. On the one hand the mill produces tweeds worn by gamekeepers and lairds, so pheasant tail feathers adorning a Christmas tree seem quite in keeping. On the other hand, they struck us as somewhat removed from the peace and goodwill message. Perhaps we're growing soft down in the pampered south.

More comforting, in that familiar hasn't-changed-a-bit-since-I-was-a-child way, was the window display in Walker's of Aberlour. I was glad to see that this vast enterprise, purveyor of shortbread to airport shops all over the world, still has its retro window display of Christmas cake, mince pies, shortbread and Ecclefechan tarts. And against a holly-patterned cloth that reminded me of the Christmas wrapping paper of the 1970s.

Edinburgh Christmas bustle

2010-12-21T18:45:00.003Z

The pre-Christmas 'bustle' at Here and There Slocan inspired me to post a similar shot of Edinburgh's 'Main Street' today. To get an exact comparison I had to stand in the middle of the road - not an easy thing to do in the middle of the day on Princes Street.

Many people are still at work, so it wasn't too frantic out on the streets. Marks and Spencer's food hall however was living up to its pre-Christmas reputation, so I was glad to escape to the relative tranquility of the lingerie department, from where I knew I would get a bird's eye view of the street.

Skywatch Friday - westering moon

2010-12-16T22:16:00.006Z

A westering moon provides a natural floodlight for a game of beach football. Photo taken by my daughter on her school sea kayak trip in September. The time was about 8.00 p.m. Nearly time to light the driftwood bonfire and toast marshmallows.

What a great campsite. No road in, and the only way out is by sea.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Sea kayaking

2010-12-12T16:22:00.005Z

Enough of snow! Even tho it has melted in most places the frost has returned and given us piebald patches of ice everywhere. I want my water to be liquid, so I'm turning to my daughter's sea kayaking expedition in September off the west coast of Scotland. Her school runs this expedition every year, just before the days turn too short to make it worthwhile. Although this looks landlocked, it is in fact sea - one of the long fingers of sea loch which indent the west coast.

I'm impressed that she managed to take any photos at all. It can't be easy juggling a camera and paddle in the sea swell. But as well as water we have some curvy rocks:

And a nameless viaduct (to go with last year's random castle). It could be the viaduct that the Hogwarts Express goes over, tho I'm not sure it looks high enough.

Early sunset

2010-12-09T19:36:00.002Z

After our day of heavy snow on Monday that brought central Scotland to a standstill, Tuesday was a perfect day of frost and sun. The afterglow of sunset lights up the sky behind Edinburgh Castle. The time is 2.50 p.m. I seem to have a penchant for taking winter sunset photos at 2.50 p.m: I posted an allotment sunset from that time on Sunday at my Slow Growing blog.

For those curious about sunrise time, it was 8.31 a.m. today. Technically sunset is later, at 3.40 at Tuesday, but I judge sunset by when I can't see the sun any more. I have to admit that the bulk of Edinburgh Castle does mean that the sun is hidden that bit earlier, but from where I was standing it felt like sunset for me.

More skies around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

When it hurts

2010-12-07T20:17:00.005Z

As someone who has accumulated a few European languages, I'm fascinated by the different sound each language has for that sudden moment of pain - hitting your thumb with a hammer, or falling on an icy pavement. The Scots word for such moments is 'oooya', pronounced with the stress on the first syllable.

I spotted this advertisement today for the minor injuries clinic at Edinburgh's Western General Hospital. It was in the row of small ads above the windows on the lower deck of a number 23 bus. With our scenic and unprecedented amount of snow there were plenty of cameras being wielded as we came down the Mound, past the fairy tale turreted houses of Ramsay Gardens, and the white-clothed bulk of the castle rock. Except I was the only weirdo taking a photo of the inside of the bus.

Nice to know that someone in the National Health Service has both a sense of humour and a grasp of Scots. And no, your eyes don't need testing. The blurring is because of the vibration of the bus.

Empty Princes Street

2010-12-06T18:59:00.004Z

Christmas shopping today was an interesting experience in a snowstorm. The shops were almost deserted, the city's buses stopped running and schools closed again. In some cases the buses stopped before a school closed, which for those pupils with cross-town journeys meant either a very long walk in the snow or an overnight stay at a friend's house.

Temperatures are supposed to rise to 6 degrees at the end of the week. I daresay we'll be wading through one gigantic puddle.

Snowy Edinburgh

2010-12-02T18:43:00.006Z

Well, what else can I call it? The view is from Blackford Hill, north towards the Castle. Photo courtesy of my daughter, who was on a sledging outing with friends on Monday when her school was closed. Tuesday was another snow day, but with studying done at home (the year of Highers exams), and it was back to school on Wednesday once the ground staff had cleared enough pathways round the campus. The problem is that the snow keeps falling. Edinburgh airport is closed, the Forth Road Bridge is closed, trains are cancelled or delayed. The city is quiet, muffled.

But for some there's a bright side. Capitalising on our huge dump of snow, my daughter's school has hastily introduced a 'house snowman' competition for tomorrow, to go with all the other house competitions that happen throughout the year.

Skywatch Friday - gilded morning

2010-11-25T20:51:00.006Z

The Edinburgh skyline on a gilded morning of frost and sun.

More skies from around the world are at Skywatch Friday.

Updated to say that a touch of illness means I won't be blogging for what will hopefully be a short while.

Art?

2010-11-21T18:01:00.005Z

On a summer visit to my home village these pillars were a bit of puzzle. We thought they were maybe the supports for a new bridge across the burn. But as this shot from September shows, trees have been planted where a bridge would touch the opposite bank. We have concluded sadly that the pillars are Art.

I may be guilty of the exile's fault of wanting everything to stay just as it was, but I feel rather sad that what was a wild, natural burnside has now been primped and planted up and studded with pointless aluminium pillars.

Ready to turn

2010-11-15T20:42:00.002Z

All that's missing now are the gondolas, and then the big wheel will be ready to turn.

Big wheel construction

2010-11-14T13:28:00.002Z

Halfway through November, so of course it must be time to get Edinburgh's Winter Wonderland set up. The Big Wheel was taking shape in Princes Street gardens yesterday afternoon. I wonder where it hibernates all summer?

I would have got a much clearer shot if I'd stood in the middle of the road between traffic light changes, as for my gothic spaceship shot, but even I'm not feel* enough to risk that on Princes Street on a Saturday afternoon.

*Feel: Scots for 'stupid/lacking in common sense'.

Latin or Scots?

2010-11-09T21:00:00.005Z

New street signs have been put up in my home village. Some of them formalise the affectionate names given to little lanes - many named after local characters. Others refer to local landmarks. Most of them are in Scots.

So this is the hill (brae) leading up to the minister's house (manse). Apparently a very Scottish street name, but 'manse' comes from the Latin word 'mansa', or dwelling. There are two manses at the very top of the hill. The new one, dating from the 1990s, and the old one, built in the early 1800s and now owned by Glen Grant distillery.

But in my childhood this hill was called 'the dominie's brae'. 'Dominie' comes from the Latin 'dominus' - teacher - and the schoolmaster's house stood at the top of the long straight stretch. I don't know why the schoolmaster predominated over the minister, but the name was used by children and old people alike.

I am now conflicted. Manse Brae has a good, solid, Scots ring. But I know it's really The Dominie's Brae.