Wee stop off on the way south

I took the A7 on my way south for a change. Normally I go via the A702, which is the most frustrating road in the country, apart from the all too often lethal A9. 

On each occasion that I am stuck behind lorries, farm vehicles and dithery drivers, I reflect that I live in a very rich country despite which I and every other driver has to make do with dangerous, slow and frankly, neglected transport infrastructure.

I am frequently in and around Greater Manchester, and while this is not a scientific observation, it strikes me that the motorway system around one English city is possibly more extensive than that in the whole of Scotland.

WHY?

Apart from avoiding the usual teethgrinding experience of the 45 miles between the capital and a functional motorway south, the A7 was a nice alternative on a bright sunny autumn day.

I passed a sign for Hermitage Castle, and decided to turn around and go visit it. The sign provided the information that it was 7 miles to get there. It did not say, 7 miles of muddy, potholed single track road with few passing places.

The scenery was spectacular, as the track rose above the valley and into the borders hills. I longed to stop and photograph the views, but was too concerned about other traffic, some of which was local and confidently whizzing along at what I thought was alarming speeds. At one point I narrowly managed to get the one sinking wheel out of a sodden verge that threatened to bog me down when I swerved to one side to let a local past.

Heart in mouth, I finally reached Hermitage Castle. It was worth it, even though my car looked like it had been in some particularly arduous motocross.

Fortification of the strategic border area of Liddesdale was begun in the 1240s. Then building on the existing castle started in 1360, although it has been transformed and modified over the centuries into a magnificent stronghold.

An inside wall looking a teeny bit spookily like two eyes, snub nose and gaping mouth.
 
A lovely isolated spot in glorious scenery and some history I was only vaguely aware of.

Brief London Meander

I went to London this week. But only briefly, enough time to have a bit of a wander round Hackney, Dalston and Shoreditch.  I'd never previously been to any of these areas and was pleasantly surprised by the buzz, signs of regeneration and friendliness of those people I had any interaction with.

I took my camera and set out in the lovely warm sun to take some photos. The above is a whirly windy thingy on the side of a very smart new building. All rather dynamic. But look - just across the road about 100 meters away ...

Not quite as new and shiny. But that is probably typical of any area which has been neglected and now racing to catch up with modernity.

The area is flat so more people risk traveling by bike than in more hilly areas. I can only say that they are braver than I'd ever choose to be given the London traffic.

I had a nice time and maybe sometime I can go back again and find even more cheap, yummy veggie food as I did the other day and more relaxing cafes to sit in and watch that part of London life wander by.

Lewis Chesswomen

The pic is of the three queens found in Uig, Lewis in 1831. Like the rest of the chess pieces they are carved from walrus ivory and Scandinavian in origin probably from around the 12th/13th century.  Not a lot else is known about them.

They are usually housed in the British Museum in London, but this summer they have been loaned to the National Museum of Scotland in Chamber St, Edinburgh.

The exhibition is very well set out with lots of really good background about Lewis, chess, the history of the finds and why the British Museum has them rather than being returned to Lewis where they would be a tremendous tourist attraction. I'm a great believer in returning objects to their original place if it makes sense, and this case is absolute in my opinion.

There is a roof terrace on the top of the new part of the museum, which has clear views round the city.

Looking towards the castle with St Giles spire reaching above the roofline of the old town.

Rooftop view with Arthur's Seat just peeking in on the left.

I visited these old queens a few days before Edinburgh had an influx of other auld queens got up in all their flowing finery come to proclaim their medieval views on women and other's who seek only to live as they see fit according to  a more inclusive and accepting standard of morality.

Sunday in East Lothian

Brandishing my Scottish Heritage membership card, I made my way to Dirleton Castle in East Lothian.

The village of Dirleton is quaint and pretty and completely picturesque. I immediately began plotting to find ways to retire there when the time comes.

The castle is set in lovely grounds which boast the world’s longest herbaceous border. This must be a wonderful sight in the height of summer and even this late in the season was impressive in colour and variety of planting.

Some pretty flowers that came out well when I fiddled about with the settings on my camera.

Joan Mitchell, Abstract Impressionist

Inverleith House in the Royal Botanic Gardens is hosting an exhibition of JoanMitchell art work till October.  Mitchell's work is lauded in all the reviews I've read; most describing her as a top notch abstract impressionist and expressing surprise that this is the first solo British exhibition of her work.

I rarely see impressionist art, abstract or otherwise, therefore, I can only state that my viewing of her work is that of a novice, completely untutored in interpreting art. This no doubt is why I found it a difficult exhibition as it took a few goes round before any of it began to mean anything to me and for me to move on from my first thoughts. Rather negatively, I was assailed by a feeling that this type of work is what is usually derided as childish, a complete con, waste of money and so forth that I have grown up hearing from others equally untutored in viewing modern art.

However, I have always believed that there must be something of value in this type of art, so I kept looking, hoping to see what all the excitement is about. it took a bit of time, but I slowly began to appreciate some of the work, and one did stand out for me. I have no idea why, and I suspect abstract impressionism will never be a favourite.

Image above.

Just when I thought it was all over ...

Although I'd succeeded fairly well in my aims to see as great a variety as possible over the festival period, the box marked 'official real actual culture' was blank, until I spotted an offer for half price tickets for Bliss, the new opera based on Peter Carey's book of the same name. This was on at the Festival Theatre as part of the International Festival programme, but only for a couple of nights.

I hadn't seen any opera for more years than I can recall, so I made sure I went to this.  And I quite enjoyed it. What really stood out for me was the stunning set of amazing light bulbs used to incredible effect to backdrop scenes and story. I liked the music and the immense cast (compared to all the one person shows I'd seen recently) were excellent, but the story failed to enthrall me.

Narratives based on women exploited in the SexIndustry who have a heart of gold and great wisdom who then selflessly save middle aged privileged males are boring, trite typical male fantasy. Dressing it up with terrific music does not redeem this.

Same old, same old.

River views

Making the most of this welcome late summer, I've taken a few photos up river, down river and above river. The river being the Forth which is easily accessed by public transport and car.

This is the beach at Portobello mid afternoon and taken on my camera. The cloud formations were what attracted me to this view and the slight reflection in the shallows.

I took this on my phone at sunset while crossing the rail bridge. The sun was at a low angle and cast the shadow of the bridge onto the woodlands below.

This is up river at Carriden looking over to Fife early evening in full sun, but again taken with my phone camera.

There is a walk along the river side which is signposted by the Scottish Rights of Way Society, a charity set up in 1845 to make sure that ancient rights of way were preserved and not abused by landowners. According to their website:

Scotland has new and forward-looking legislation for public access to land, set out in Part 1 of the Land Reform (Scotland) Act 2003, which came into force in February 2005. This legislation gives the public wide-ranging statutory rights of access to land and inland water throughout Scotland. It builds on the Scottish traditions of access, on the network of long-established rights of way, and on other existing rights. The result is a modern approach to access which is among the best in Europe.

I was minimally aware that we have reasonable rights to roam our own country but I'm very impressed that people have been safeguarding those rights for so long.

Finally, sunset at North Queensferry back in June, the day after the solstice.

Last few fringings

I still had many boxes to tick, many types of show to see and assorted art exhibitions to fit in before it all evaporated into where ever fringe things go between September and July each year.  I didn't get much further as I began to feel a disconnect between my aspirations of a month ago and the reality of traipsing about the city in attempted holistic culture mode.

The final Fringe Saturday D, with whom it had all begun on the first Friday, joined me again for a bit of a yomp round and about. This time we wandered rather unfocussedly amongst the craft stalls here and there. Then sat in in a chilly coffee garden at Surgeon's Hall.  Then she left to join other pals while I went to see A Bit of Irish hoping the advertised singalong would live up to the hype. Well it was ok, but quite brief at only 40 minutes. I had a free ticket, otherwise I'd have felt a bit miffed.

I really didn't want this to be my last experience of Fringe 2010, so I made time on the Tuesday lunchtime to see another recital at St Mary's Cathedral. I'm so glad I did this because once again I was privileged to see a wonderful musical treat.

Jennifer Rust, soprano and Anna Yang, pianist entertained splendidly with a varied programme from Schumman to Gershwin.  Best of all was Pleurez, Pleurez mes yeux, from Le Cid. I had never heard this before and was simply delighted to be introduced to this piece in such style.

All together a much more positive end to my Fringe.

A few days off from fringe-binge then back to the fray

Week three and steam is running out, enthusiasm is waning and general jadedness sets in. Four days of Fringe avoidance, real life - oh, and work which funds all this, took priority. Then I stepped out again for a couple of events linked only by their proximity in the old town.

The Caves under North Bridge is my least favourite venue. Edinburgh, for the past few years has hosted fringe shows in too many damp, dungeon-like (in an entirely non-kinky way), dark and every other D you can come up with spaces, that must cause staff the most ghastly health problems. Every time I go, I come out feeling ill and I'm only in there for an hour. It would be so much better to spread the venues out again and have more wee church halls in far-flung bits of the city taking the strain instead of it all being, admittedly conveniently, squeezed into the city centre.

Anyway, I went to only my second show this year in the Caves having deliberately avoided even those shows I quite fancied. But I returned to see Caroline Mabey Eat Your Friends. It seemed to have positive reviews, so, in order to boost the number of female comics I've seen this year, I went.

The audience was on the sparse side, but were supportive of her act. I'd put up with numerous comments from the stage this year at different shows, because I kept forgetting my glasses meaning I had to sit at the front thus rendering myself a vulnerable target, but I'd never, until now, had to get up on the stage.

I have no spontaneity, I am not an entertainer, I am a bit deaf and really rather slow to catch on and have a life-long inability to understand or follow instructions. I am not a good choice to shove on stage. But I already knew that. However, I'm not unduly shy and so I agreed, since there were only another 8 or so folk watching. I managed not to do anything right, but I repeat, there were only another 8 or so folk there to witness it. So, next year, no front seats, no making eye contact with the act and no getting up on stage - ever.

Good, that's that out of my system.

I had a few minutes to walk the few yards up the next cobbled lane to yet another awful venue. Banshee Labyrinth was hosting the Skeptics on the Fringe shows. I'd wanted to go to several of those, but they all clashed with me having to be somewhere else. Finally I made it to Dr Caroline Watt's talk on the Parapsychology unit at Edinburgh University.

Wonderfully interesting and far too short, except from the point of view that this was such an uncomfortable seat my relief at standing up possibly won over the feeling that I wanted to hear much much more from this speaker.
Before the talk I'd completely forgotten that long ago I'd taken a psychology module. Dormant knowledge was helpfully activated and retrieved and I followed most of the talk.  I was also reminded why I didn't go on to take more psychology studies, far preferring psychodynamic theory to psych-experiments in the name of an ology. All long before we apparently all became hardwired evol psych bots with no free-will.

Um, was that a bit hard on the evol psychs? Nah!