Edinburgh

This week we were lucky to see Anne on Tuesday night (after her long holiday around Scotland and the north of England), and early Saturday morning we were sitting chatting to Michelle and Zane in their flat in Edinburgh. A real kiwi week and a very long week, no idea why, but we had spent most evenings vegging in front of the World Athletics Championship and finding it a real effort to get up in the mornings and on that bike to work... But by Friday evening we had 'Scotland' on the horizons and all that changed as we packed our bags and prepared to get up very early the next morning. It continues to amaze me that when we book a weekend far in advance (we arranged our visit to Edinburgh when Michelle was in Bristol in February) it seems so far ahead, it seems as though it will never come, and then it's here, and off we are on yet another plane. I wonder when life will slow down? We hadn't been to Edinburgh since our 6 week holiday five years ago (the one that was meant to get travel out of my blood but instead just showed me how big that world out there really is and that no number of 6 week holidays would ever let us see as much as I wanted to see and experience). Edinburgh is a lovely city, lots of greenery and character and driving through the city to Michelle and Zane's flat it felt good to be back. We stopped for a quick breakfast in a cafe in the centre (tried potato cakes and 'eggy bread' - another name for French toast) and looked out at part of the castle (the other part was hidden by other large buildings) and then made our way across town to Leith. Zane went off to his game of hockey but before that he showed me how to find out how many people read the blog and from what country they are from - so far in one day 2 people in America have read about our kiwi experiences, 2 in the UK and 1 in NZ - it doesn't give the history going back the two or so years since I started writing - but I am looking forward to seeing it over time as Zane's blog has people from Lithuania, Slovakia, Greece, Peru - none of which he knows - and he hasn't updated his blog since March - tut, tut.). So, without Zane we did a little tour of some of the West Lothian area. We stopped, but didn't go in to the huge mansion at Hopetoun. It's a oblong house set in an expanse of grass, rather plain in comparison to some mansions we have seen, but to get to it we drove down a long tree lined avenue which made up for the plainness on arrival. And then on to the ruins of Linlithgow Palace which overlook a loch and was originally used as a military base for ensuring supplies made their way safely between the Edinburgh and Stirling Castles. It was rather a picturesque spot and on a nicer day we could have had a picnic on the grounds and taken the 1 hour stroll around the loch. But instead we spent some time in Linlithgow eating lunch and doing the 'charity shops' for Michelle's outfit for her 'bad taste' party that night. I think we did quite well - stylish with a touch of 'why on earth are you wearing that'. (We didn't help Zane in his choice of clothes and I think it shows!!)

Anyway, the town has been around a bit longer than the charity shops (but not charity) and in the early 1400's it was destroyed by fire. King James I rebuilt the Palace complete with church, a formal courtyard and a fountain - you can't see much of it today. Mary Queen of Scots was born at the Palace in 1542 but after that it's claim to fame was King Charles I slept one night there in 1633 and over 100 years later Bonnie Prince Charlie passed through the town and the fountain actually turned water into wine to celebrate the occasion (yeah right). But probably the biggest claim to fame is that James Doohan (Scotty in Star Trek) was born there in 2222 and "while his character journeyed where no man had gone before, his parents still lived in leafy Lithgae". Apparently when he died in 2005 (that's James, not Scotty) there was a "war of words between the Royal Burgh and Aberdeen — as both towns claimed "Beam Me Up, Scotty" as their own. The West Lothian Council even hired some (probably very expensive) consultants to work out how the town could tap into the tourist market (that's us) and an exhibition museum complete with his Star Trek costume and a model of the Starship Enterprise was built (but we didn't see it). Apparently, James did consider his career as Scotty rather seriously saying to his dentist (obviously when he wasn't getting a filling) that he was worried about being type-cast - and the dentists good advice was "Jimmy, you're going to be Scotty long after you're dead. If I were you, I'd go with the flow".

So after that we wandered around Edinburgh in the evening (after fish and chips - the Scots have curry on theirs but we didn't), up the Royal Mile to the castle but got rather ensconced in a crowd leaving the tattoo and we made a quick exit down a side street to a more peaceful spot where we found a hot chocolate and dessert to give us some energy for the walk home - too tired to see a show we hopped into bed and went fast asleep. Next morning, we were off to the Royal Yacht Britannia. We spent a good two hours wandering the decks of the boat (and eating the most scrumptious cheese scones - do we do anything else but eat?), looking at how royalty, the captain and officers and the 'workers' lived on the boat - why do those with the money think that lower ranked people are happy to sleep in narrow bunks and live in cramped quarters? The ship was built just down the road in Glasgow in the Clyde shipyards in 1953 (the 83rd royal yacht - the first being in 1660 which took Charles II to places) and sailed around the world with royals on it for 44 years. It made 968 official voyages, and did visit New Zealand but I can't remember seeing it. But I did find out that the first royal visit to NZ occurred in 1869 when Alfred Duke of Edinburgh, the youngest son of Queen Victoria came to the Land of the Long White Cloud as commanding officer of HMS Galatea - he must have liked the place cos he came back for another 2 trips in 1870 - however he didn't tell the rest of the family about the country's virtues (skiing, white water rafting, glow worm caves, sailing, mountain climbing, swimming, caving, bungy jumping, rugby, fishing, sunny warm weather, great food or the cafe culture) as there wasn't another royal visit until 1901. We then had lots of royal yachts grace our shores -one when King George VI and Queen Elizabeth in 1927 had to arrive in Bluff on a tug boat (bit of luck there having a ride on Toot the Tug don't you think?) because there had been a boiler room fire and bad weather (surely not!!). The only visit I can remember is Charlie and Diana sitting on the grass, with baby William playing with a Buzzy Bee. Anyway, in 1997 the Britannia was retired and after travelling from Portsmouth to Hong Kong on her last and longest voyage she sailed past the Clyde shipyard to her retirement home in Edinburgh Port.

Rule Britania!
Britannia rule the waves.

Then it was onto another type of boat - a tourist boat on the Falkirk Wheel (I liken it to a slow trip not dissimilar to the London Eye, except you're in a boat and the view around Falkirk isn't as exciting). The wheel cost the English taxpayer £84.5m project and its aim was to ensure that you could navigate a boat across Scotland by linking the Forth & Clyde Canal with the Union Canal - I think it was also to celebrate the millennium but wasn't finished until 2002. The Forth and Clyde Canal is 35 metres below the Union Canal and so the wheel is designed to take over from 11 rather derelict and 'not to be used' locks. It seems that the wheel doesn't do much except act now as a tourist adventure (either those riding in canal boats, or those come to see the wheel) but it occasionally moves barges loaded with cardboard for recycling but not a lot else. It's the only rotating boat lift in the world!! We enjoyed riding in it, walking through the tunnel to the two locks at the other end and watching inexperienced canal boat captains navigate the lock system (how come they get help from officials but we didn't?).
We finished the evening going on a trip down memory lane - visiting Queensferry and the little Italian restaurant we so enjoyed on our trip a few years ago. So, with good company and looking out to the railway bridge we ate pasta and chatted in the home of Saint Margaret of Scotland, the wife of King Malcolm III of Scotland. She established the village I think because she liked the ferry crossings across the Firth of Forth and wanted pilgrims travelling to St Andrews to be well fed and cared for (that's my take on it). Later on Mary Queen of Scots, had a ferry ride - but not such a happy occasion as she was going to her 'imprisonment' at Loch Leven Castle - and we all know how that finished. Anyway, the restaurant overlooks the Forth Railway Bridge, has nice Italian food at a reasonable price, and a nice atmosphere as it was built by a sea-faring Admiral - looks and feels like a ship both in and out.
Monday dawned - none of this cloud and rain for the first day of the working week - except we fooled the weather man - we were not working. We drove up along the coast to St Andrews. We first stopped near Elie and Ruby Bays (which had lots of interesting coloured and shaped seaweed and a cute little bay where the occasional garnet is washed up). We climbed to the derelict Lady's Tower (built in the 1770s as a changing room for Lady Janet Anstruther of Elie House - the more upmarket swimming shed for the rich). When she wanted a swim - I am convinced the weather must have been warmer back then - she sent a bell ringer around Elie to let everyone know that they shouldn't come to Ruby Bay (no paparazzi back then as ringing a bell would have only encouraged them). I get the feeling that she and her family weren't very popular as someone placed a curse on the family (not sure what bad luck befelled them) when she decided to move the town so her view from the house would be improved (not the first time we have heard of that one).

And onto St Andrews where we walked a lovely golden beach to the little port, the castle and cathedral - which was a centre for pilgrims (after crossing on the Forth at Queensferry) who came to cure their illnesses, or to atone for their sins as pilgrims often do. We followed in the footsteps of many thousands of these people (grateful that we had a car as the walk along the beach was plenty long enough) and enjoyed the scenery, looking at the castle and admiring all the amazing old university buildings - if I had studied there it would have been an inspiration in itself - if I could of course pull myself away from the golf course - can you be a student of golf? St Andrews is the Home of Golf where this somewhat frustrating and rewarding game was invented. It started around 1400 and we (including Caramello) looked on as players teed off on the first hole of the Old Course. In 1457 King James II of Scotland banned the game as he felt "it was distracting young men from archery practice". This ban was repeated by succeeding monarchs until James IV decided "if he couldn't beat them he would join them" and in 1502 became a golfer himself. 200 years later the Old Course had 22 holes, 11 out and 11 back, with golfers playing to the same hole going out and in, except for the 11th and 22nd holes. After a while it became an 18 hole game (forget the 19th) when they decided that the first four holes, and therefore also the last four holes, were too short - and they lengthened them and made 2 holes each way. This reduced the number of holes in the round from 22 to 18 - and it hasn't changed since. During peak times, players beginning their game were meeting players finishing their game (imagine the crash of golf balls meeting in mid air and the angry waving of arms) and so they cut two holes on each green, with white flags for the outward holes and red flags for the inward holes. About the same time, that's around the mid 1700's, the Royal and Ancient Golf Club was founded and this club still governs the rules of golf everywhere except in America. A few years later the St Andrews Town Council were declared bankrupt and left the Links to the rabbits (rabbit farming actually) and it wasn't until twenty years later when a wealthy man and obviously a golfer bought the land and 'saved the Links for golf.' The game became popular again in the 1800's and was profitable for the whole town as players need caddies, balls and clubs - the start of a new industry. If you want to play (but if you aren't a member you have to pay more than £150 for a game - and if you have to ask how much membership costs - you probably can't afford it.). There are now 6 courses in the town, but none that appeared at a glance to have the personality and challenge of NZ golf courses ie lots of hills, valleys, bushes, banks and rivers to cross.

And our last thing to do in Edinburgh - attend the Edinburgh Military Tattoo - with the other 200,000 or so spectators each year. It was lovely to have a warm, clear night for it and to listen to the pipers (my favourite), and the drummers from Switzerland (Harry's favourite). There were groups from Tonga, China and in the huge pipe band the Auckland Police. The lighting on the castle was a highlight, at times there were aeroplanes, trams, shields, people on the castle walls.

Coming back on Tuesday morning, we drove past the Banksy exhibition hoping that the queues would not be that long on a work day morning - wrong - it looked like about an hour long and feeling a bit tired we decided that this is just one thing we will not see (others are more enthusiastic and take seats, coffee, books to keep themselves entertained to wait somewhere up to 7 hours to see the exhibition). Banksy is Bristol's graffiti artist - known worldwide. He paints graffiti anonymously (is that wrong?) but is so good at it and provides a touch of uniqueness that people have bought his paintings at auctions only to have the job of dismantling the wall and rebuilding the artwork in their own home. Obviously, someone knows his identity as he was asked to put on a show at the museum (very old type of museum with lots of bits and pieces in glass show cases and not much interactiveness like TePapa so the ghosts of the curators are probably trembling in their boots, while the walls of museum are shuddering with housing 'modern art'). However, Banksy is apparently the son of a photocopier technician and was an apprentice butcher before taking to the aerosol can in the 1980s. Anyway, we missed an opportunity as the exhibition finished on 31 August but not from lack of trying. I did find some pictures on the web and there are some very clever ones that appeal to my sense of humour.

Knutsford and Surrounds

Jane and David came around for dinner (we did ourselves proud - Gefilte fish for entree, meatballs for main, and lamingtons for dessert - Jewish, Italian and Australian - for non-cooks be impressed!) - they also bought us our first house plant - so its in the lounge, enjoying the occasional sunshine and keeping Harry company while he watches tv - it brightens up what so many have called 'our student flat'.

It was a bit like a wander through a time travel machine this weekend. On Saturday, we got up early (earlier than planned as we had forgotten we'd set the alarm earlier than normal the day before) and so arrived at Hawkstone Park (north of Birmingham) just on opening time. The Park was built in the late 1700's by Sir Roland Hill and his son (sounds like a nice family, helped the poor with food and clothing and provided park like surroundings for the community to enjoy). The park has a history similar to the Gardens of Heligan but far less well known. Neglected for over 100 years it has been restored in the 1990's by the owners of the hotel and the golf course with the same name which we looked at from afar. The countryside is mainly red rock, along the top of a cliff, and quite soft as the many footprints trod before us were engraved in the steps, and we walked across areas which had more sand than many English beaches. The many visitors back in the 1700's would have seen a wonderful rhododendron garden (now huge spindly bushes and still would look lovely in the flowering season) and the follies used in the filming of one of the Narnia films. It took us three hours to wander around the paths of the 100 acre garden, wandering over bridges and along the rocky outcrops and exploring the caves. The park is now on the Grade-1 Historical list and we can see why. It is actually on our WOW list.

1. Mt Kau Kau, Wellington
2. Cathedral, Milan
3. Cemetery, Milan
4. Newgrange, Ireland
5. Quantock Head, England
6. Waffles, Brussels
7. Food, Poland
8. Tower, Glasgow
9. Cycling in the Snow, Amsterdam
10. Walking the Cliffs of Dover, England
11. The Pavilion in Brighton, England
12. Hawkstone Park, England

So, at this park we:

• Climbed the Monument (known as the Tower) standing over 100ft high (thats 150 steps) which commemorated Sir Roland becoming the first Protestant Mayor of London. From the top you can view 12 counties - or see what we saw, the mist rolling in covering the countryside and promising bleaker than hoped for conditions (thankfully it didn't last and after our 3 hour excursion we were treated to some lovely sunshine in which we ate our lunch and dozed for a while).
• The Swiss bridge that was one plank of wood wide which crossed over a very narrow gorge called the Cleft and originally only had one hand rail - two felt a lot safer.
• The Gingerbread Hall - where visitors centuries earlier collected their guides and wandered towards the Grotto - we got our guide book at the gate - which did help in finding our way around.
• The Arch at the top of Grotto Hill - built to be the 'midpoint' where we stopped to enjoy the scenery, recover from the climb, have a drink and snack and wonder why so many people enjoy getting dressed up on a Saturday afternoon in 1700 clothes.

But the fascinating part was where we trod - one moment we were jumping over mud, another walking across tree stumps grown and cut strategically to avoid more mud, climbing steps that were so well trod the footprints were engraved permanently in the rock, tredding gingerly on the Swiss Bridge, negotiating large tree roots (beware of tripping hazards said the notice), squeezing through rocks, slipping up stone slopes covered in water and moss, feeling our way through caves engraved many years ago by diligent stone masons, climbing stairs that were higher than our knees (yes Harry's too), and just occasionally when lucky walking a flat path . All great fun.

When we were looking at what to do last week on our trip up north I read all about Market Drayton - 'The Home of Gingerbread'. How could we resist taking a small diversion to visit this town when we read that the locals 'have baked this delight to a secret recipe' for the last couple of centuries (it probably includes rum, but just to make sure you could follow the locals example and dip it in port before you eat it). So armed with our thermos of hot water, our tea bags, and our mouths watering we left for Market Drayton. However, we found out that Saturday afternoon isn't the time to visit this town (really didn't seem to give the appearance of being around 200 years ago, it looked like so many other towns in England built in the 1960's with little character - sorry to the local Market Draytonites if we are doing their town an injustice). But we were disappointed!! We didn't find a gingerbread man with a 'Welcome to Market Drayton' standing in the bed of sunflowers and marigolds at the roundabout, and the closest thing we got to gingerbread all weekend was visiting 'Gingerbread Hall' at Hawkstone Park. But I did read more about Market Drayton - on Wednesday the town comes alive, as that's when Henry III declared it market day that's where we might find the gingerbread men sitting amongst the handbags, clothes, materials, fish, sausages, fruit and vegetables, jams, cheeses and pies. Clive of India came from here - his little pies won the Guinness Best Pub Food Award in one year or another - he sounds as though he was one of those lovable rogues (lovable cos he makes good pies) but he may have run a protection racket amongst the local shopkeepers (not a nice way to make money), climbed the church tower (adventurous), defeated the French (not on his own), and secured the spice routes for the British empire and bringing home ginger to the town (to make gingerbread. So, we drove on 'gingerbreadless' (get over it Denise) without trying this wonderful cake with 'curiously restorative powers'. Anyway, enough about what we didn't see (except we also didn't get to Rudyard Lake - known because that is where Rudyard Kipling's parents 'courted' presumably before he was born). We drove on to the Anderton Boat Lift (not onto really but to the car park). It takes boats 50 feet up in the air joining the Trent and Mersey Canal and the River Weaver and it is where these two water channels meet and is the home of the salt works. It was built in 1875 and used for over 100 years before it was closed for restoration and opened again about 8 years ago. The salt has been taken from the rock since Roman times. By the end of the 17th century a major salt mining industry had developed around the Cheshire "salt towns" and two waterways shipped the salt up and down the country (River Weaver and the Trent and Mersey Canal). The owners of the two waterways put there heads together and decided that they could make a tidy sum by by linking the two waterways (first they used cranes and then chutes to run the salt down) - before they decided on the Anderton Boat Lift.
That was enough for one day and we settled into a nice pub in Knutsford for a meal and a read of the newspaper before finding our hotel for the night.


After an 11 hour sleep (boy do these oldies get a bit tired) we arrived at Jodrell Bank Observatory and sat down to watch a 3D movie on a visit to Mars (we were in a spaceship the SS Enterprise and it was a real 'beam me up Scotty' film) before going outside to look more closely at the 50 year old Lovell Telescope (it reminded me of a meccano set and I wondered if Meccano had modelled their famous toy on the telescope or the other way round - so later I did a bit of quick research and found out that Meccano was invented in 1901 by Frank Hornby, an Englishman) . The observatory however was built the year I was born and since then has been ' probing the depths of space, a symbol of our wish to understand the universe in which we live. Even now, it remains one of the biggest and most powerful radio telescopes in the world, spending most of its time investigating cosmic phenomena which were undreamed of when it was conceived'. Actually, before I was born (and even before Harry was born) Bernard Lovell was already at work, looking at cosmic rays at a little place called Jodrell Bank. We had the fun of watching it turn on its axis to look at another bit of sky, before wandering off to our next stop.

And to finish off the trip up north we wandered around the Peak District for a couple of hours - climbing to Solomons temple which was built in 1896 on a site which is a neolithic burial mound. It's another folly by Solomon Mycock and was designed and built to give the unemployed in Buxton some work. It is 439 metres above sea level and with only a few steps to the top we could see some lovely views (probably 12 counties) and some cloud. Apparently, the hills was originally an old lime kiln but once the tower was built visitors would take the waters in the baths below and then walk the short distance up the hill to enjoy the fresh air and scenery (that was back in Queen Victoria's time).

And in the news this week...a new clothes shopped open up in Bristol - well it is a bigger version of a smaller one that recently closed - it is known for its cheap clothes (they have clothes factories in 3 countries and pay their workers 7pence an hour) and young people in England love it - you can change your wardrobe every week (eg 99 handbags can be bought instead of 1 from an Oxford Street shop in London). Anyway, they interviewed many of the young girls queuing for 2 hours before the shop opened and one said 'I've come all the way back from New Zealand for this - you just can't get fashionable clothes over there' - but she's going back so there must be something else attracting her in little old kiwiland. But this really got me wondering...at the end of the week I read about people queuing from 6.00 in the morning for an opening of a new supermarket (the chain is already in Bristol - so one could ask why?)