Edinburgh Festival Carnival

Bright sunshine, blue skies, not a cloud in sight - more than organisers could have wished for as the Edinburgh Festival Carnival hit the city centre. Princes Street and Princes Street Gardens were awash with colourful costumes, throbbing with the powerful beat of street music, overflowing with street theatre, dance and circus performers. Over thirty five acts incorporating a total of four hundred men, women and children took over the heart of Edinburgh, bringing shades of Rio to Scotland's capital. Vibrant, magical, mesmerising, foot tapping, hand clapping - a carnival party second to none brought a whole host of countries from across the globe together to create two hours of non-stop festival fun. They came from as far afield as Martinique, Trinidad and Tobago, the South Indian Ocean, and China as well as countless European countries including Scotland and the rest of the United Kingdom to enchant and entertain as people turned up in their thousands to enjoy the weather and join in the fun.    
Staged performances and impromptu shows, all were there for audiences to stroll around and soak up the atmosphere. The Chinese Garden was simply stunning. Traditional Chinese costumes, thrilling dance performances, T'ai Chi, dragons, lions, so popular with visitors, so beautiful, so visually enticing. Marching bands from Scotland and Italy included a debut appearance by the official Edinburgh Festival Carnival Band complete with horns and drummers. Funky brass bands set the streets alight with pulsating sounds, extravagant dress and quirky humour. Groups from Martinique, Portugal, the Netherlands and good old Scotland filled the air with infectious drumming beats. Caribbean percussion, Portuguese bagpipes - Scottish bagpipes with a Spanish accent? - and a touch of samba had audiences dancing and swaying in time to the sounds of Gwanaval, Bombrando, Legendaires and the Edinburgh Samba School.
So much to see, so much to take in ....... and only two hours in which to do it!   

Street Dance, so energetic, so full of energy, so all-encompassing had audiences gasping for more. Breathtaking acrobatics from the appropriately named Airborn Academy, urban dance, hip-hop, Carribean carnival dancers, African dance choreography - performances full of flare, peppered with exciting tricks, unique, mind-blowing, contrasting styles blending modern and contemporary. Vocalists from Hungary with their own style of pop, jazz and traditional Hungarian Romani, soul and R&B from the Netherlands, German rap artists, they were all there showcasing their talents and drawing enthusiastic applause.
Clowns - there were clowns from Poland who somewhat baffled me but had younger members of the audience enthralled. Flamboyant, although somewhat drab in appearance - my opinion again - they nonetheless seemed to combine pantomime, juggling, acrobatics and puppetry well enough. Still bizarre, though. But that's what its all about. A wonderful mix of performers sharing the stage, entertaining the crowds. Drummers, dancers and those playing with fire, the incredible Anansi from Scotland, shared the circus theatre with the clowns .......
Picnics were spread out across every available inch of grass as people made the most of the amazing weather and enjoyed a spot of lunch in the sunshine - or the shade if they were lucky enough to grab some. The Ross Bandstand came into its own as rainbow wings, extravagant headdresses, feathers, frills and fancy footwork filled the arena to herald the onset of festivities. The largest choir of its kind in France, the Paris Children's Opera Choir, delighted the audience with their amazing singing, their beautiful voices echoing around the Gardens. Just one of the many performances to grace the Bandstand stage. Pure magic.
Children headed for the Children's Corner, parents in tow. The Big Red Bus did Big Red Bus things, the bubble machine bubbled, faces were painted beyond all recognition, magicians did magic, balloon modellers modelled balloons, a "pop-up" samba band "popped up" and young folk wigged and wammed around the wig-wam.
Crazy characters, crazy music, zany musicians, elegant dancers, bands of every kind for every kind of taste - Edinburgh Festival Carnival had it all. So much sunshine, so many smiles, so much fun ....... and even the weather played ball. I guess someone somewhere did a sneaky sun-dance. I am sure one of the participants had that particular talent, or one very similar! So if you missed it all this year - bah sucks!!! Next year, go!!! Marvel at the mystical Chinese, laugh with the clowns, sing, dance, tap your feet. And if it rains next year - which it won't - then you should have gone this year. A small deposit has been paid on sunshine for July 2014 so make a note in your diary. Be there or be square ...... or so the saying goes ........ And its all free so there is no excuse.   

Mardi Gras Comes to Edinburgh

The Grassmarket, once a medieval market place bustling with horses and cattle, and on a more grisly note the site for public executions - the shadow of the gibbet can still be seen as a timely reminder of the checkered past of this historic area of Edinburgh. Today it is one of the city's most vibrant meeting places, lively drinking spots and eclectic shops vying for attention. Awash with medieval architecture, and laying claim to some of the most stunning views of the Castle, it is here that Edinburgh holds its Mardi Gras as part of the Jazz and Blues Festival.
Edinburgh Jazz and Blues Festival, the largest in the United Kingdom, is packed with world class artists such as Mud Morganfield, Tia Fuller and of course the inimitable Jules Holland. Ten days of truly world class entertainment and public performances take place across the city in some of its most stunning venues. These include informal jam sessions at the Jazz Bar, spontaneous musical moments by Festival performers as they take the opportunity to let their hair down. With almost 150 concerts taking places, there is certainly something for all ages, moods and tastes.
The Mardi Gras, held in the heart of historic Edinburgh, turns the Grassmarket into New Orleans for the afternoon - and what a beautiful afternoon it was this year. There is definitely something about Jazz and Blues that puts the sultry into a hot summer's day, that has you drifting down a river trailing your feet in the water, or sitting gin and tonic in hand losing yourself in the heady beat and soulful sounds. And Mardi Gras had everything. A wonderful mix of local and visiting bands filled the stage with the very best strains of Jazz and Blues, drawing the audience in, at times creating the atmosphere of smoke filled bars and dimly lit rooms. But brilliant sunshine was the order of the day as people sat where they could or simply stood and listened, drink in hand, soaking up the music. Foot tapping, hip swaying, heel stomping, it was all there.
Three hours of non-stop entertainment put on by a mix of local and visiting musicians created a party atmosphere under blue skies. Mardi stalwarts, the Criterion Parade Band, were there with their brollie dollies. The California Honeydrops were brilliant, SZK Sizhukong from Taiwan absolutely amazing, bringing their own form of Jazz to the Festival. Horndog Brass Band, The Rae Brothers, Shreveport Rhythm, Lights Out By Nine, Al Hughes, there were all there, providing first class music to suit everyone. And nobody was too young to join in the fun - eyes right! Fun, sun, and when it was done, time to relect on a wonderful afternoon, with so much more to come throughout the week. All of these performers can be seen again and are definitely worth doing so.  

The Floral Clock

Princes Street Gardens, beautiful at this time of the year especially on a day like today when basking in sunshine under deep blue skies. But what makes the Gardens even more enticing right now is the amazing Floral Clock, the oldest in the world. Immaculately tended, visually stunning, colourfully creative - and it also tells the right time. If you watch carefully you can actually see the hands moving, driven very quietly by an electric motor. Those who are gazing at this masterpiece as each hour draws to a close will witness the cuckoo pop out of its nest and herald the coming of the next.
Every year a new display is planted incorporating a topical theme. The Queen's Diamond Jubilee, the Olympic Games, Robert Louis Stevenson, they have all taken their place amongst the Gardens many features. This year, the centenary of Edinburgh Zoo, one of the city's most popular attractions with both locals and visitors alike, has taken centre stage. And it is indeed a work of art in every sense of the word. A dedicated team of gardeners used a staggering 40,000 plants to slowly and carefully bring to life this breathtaking tribute to the Zoo. And they will equally as painstakingly tend their creation to ensure it remains at its very best throughout the summer. Beautiful. Everyone should pause a while to wonder at this horticultural masterpiece. A touch of pure genius for all to see.
  

Reaper - A Maritime Must

Picture the scene: you are wandering around the picturesque Dunbar harbours when you come across something equally as amazing - Reaper. I had to go aboard, stand on deck and feel the gentle swell of the sea rock this magnificent boat, go below deck, learn all about her. This was all my Christmases and birthdays rolled into one!
Reaper is a Fifie Sailing Herring Drifter, an impressive title fo an equally impressive boat. This was, I am told, the most popular design of fishing boat to be found on the East Coast of Scotland for much of the 19th and early 20th century. "Born" in 1902 at the Sandhaven yard of  J. & G. Forbes, she began life as a two-masted sailing lugger used for drift net and great line fishing. 70 feet long, Reaper was rigged with a "dipping lug foresail and a standing line mizzen" and was a star of the summer herring fishing. In fact the late 1930s saw her hold the record catch of herring in Shetland at some 223 crans - almost a quarter of a million fish. Mindblowing whichever way you look at it.
Originally built as a sailing lugger, Reaper succumbed to progress and had an engine installed for the first time in 1916. She continued fishing until the outbreak of the Second World War when her peaceful existence was interrupted by the Admiralty. She was requisitioned, as were many others, and saw service in the South of England, a far cry from her Scottish roots. War over, she returned safely to Scotland and resumed fishing in Shetland until 1957.
Zetland Council purchased Reaper in 1959, using her as a "flit boat" to carry general cargoes. It was at this time that her name was changed to Shetlander. This phase of her life finished in 1974, and soon after she was lucky enough to be snapped up by the Scottish Fisheries Museum in Fife. She was moved from Shetland to the Museum's home in Anstruther, and lovingly, and very painstakingly, restored to her 1902 two-masted lugsail rig. She was also renamed Reaper.
In 1985 a group of volunteers, the Museum Boats Club, came into being and took responsibility for the maintenance and operation of Reaper, an undertaking they still continue to this very day. An extensive refit was carried out between October 2004 and April 2005, and the boat is now an integral part of the Core Collection of the National Historic Ships Fleet - quite a mouthful! She also has the distinction of being one of the few boats in the Collection to be kept in a seagoing condition. As if this were not enough, Reaper is berthed in Anstruther Harbour outside the Scottish Fisheries Museum as its flagship.
Reaper has now been equipped as a floating museum of the herring industry. Not one to rest on her laurels - or should that be anchor - she has already visited over fifty separate venues as far apart as Portsmouth and Lerwick, as well as appearing in several films and television programmes. Not bad for a boat who began life as a humble fishing boat over one hundred years ago, although I somehow doubt she was ever humble! When open to the public, admission is free.  
Donations, however, are always very welcome and very gratefully received. So if you should come across her whilst on your travels please step on board and look around. It is incredibly interesting, beautifully laid out, and the volunteers are knowledgeable, friendly and enthusiastic. They will stand and talk, answer questions, and obviously have a genuine pride in, and understanding of, Reaper. The sole survivor of the once huge fleet of Scottish first class Fifie sailing luggers which completely dominated the herring fishing along the East Coast during the beginning of the 20th century, she is a magnificent sight as she enters or leaves harbour. There is always a touch of romance surrounding a ship in full sail, billowing in the wind, rising and falling in harmony with the waves. Oh to be a sailor on the high seas on board such an awe-inspiring vessel. At the mercy of the weather, at the mercy of the sea ...... one can but dream, and dreams do come true ...... just not very often. 

Blackness Castle

Blackness Castle, looking out across the Firth of Forth towards the naval dockyard of Rosyth and the iconic landmarks that are the Forth Road and Rail Bridges, is a hotchpotch of buildings dating from various periods throughout history. Although there had been a port at the nearby village of Blackness since the 13th century, serving the royal burgh of Linlithgow, little mention is made of the castle until 1449.
Now here comes everyone's favourite history teacher with some interesting info about Blackness Castle. So if you are sitting comfortably, I shall begin. 1453 saw the castle come into the hands of King James II when he annexed the surrounding lands, and it spent much of the next century serving as a royal prison - but housing only the more prestigious of his highness's countless enemies. None of your common or garden riff raff here, then. A great deal of the castle as you see it today dates back to a major reconstruction which took place under James V between 1537 and 1543. Thus Blackness Castle was duly transformed into one of the strongest artillery fortifications of its time. Much evidence of this can be seen in the labyrinthine entrance via the west spur of the South Tower - think I have my directions right - which includes a caponier designed to deal with any intruders who succeeded in gaining entry through the outer gate. This passage within the thickness of the wall provides loopholes which point back into the courtyard housed between the outer and inner entrances.
The South Tower, where the south facing walls were strengthened to a thickness of 5.5 metres, was without doubt the most formidable aspect of Blackness Castle's 16th century defences. These massive walls were pierced in several places at ground level, allowing artillery to fire both to the south and the south east. This all served the castle well until a certain Oliver Cromwell made an appearance in 1650 during his Scottish campaign. With artillery now so much more powerful and having a much longer range, Cromwell also had the advantage of attacking by land and sea. Badly damaged, the castle eventually surrendered.
The later history of Blackness Castle very much echoed its earlier role as a prison, housing vast numbers of French captured during the wars of the late 18th and early 19th centuries. 1870 saw Blackness become Scotland's central ammunition depot, and it was at this time that the buildings around the grassy courtyard south of the castle were built. The south range, which today houses the Historic Scotland shop, was originally the barracks, while the more ornate west block acted as the officers quarters. The whole open area of the castle was covered with a concrete and iron roof, and the pier was also constructed.
If you need to fidget, then fidget now before I continue ...... The army left Blackness Castle in 1912, returning during the First World War, then leaving for good in 1918. Designated an ancient monument, a major programme of work was carried out here between 1926 and 1935, returning the castle to a more medieval appearance. So what do you see today as you approach the castle through the little village of Blackness, following a narrow road alongside the Forth? Once you have mastered the entrance complex you emerge into a rather remarkable courtyard. This area is formed of natural rock, still extremely uneven after 600 years of constant wear and tear, and should be tackled with care. And equally as quirky is the actual shape of the castle, resembling a ship jutting out into the Forth. Keeping to the nautical theme, the South Tower is also known as the Stern Tower, the North Tower taking on the alternative name of the Stem Tower. This boat shape is best appreciated from the North Tower. Look along the wall walks which extend either side of the castle and past the Central or Prison Tower. And there you are ...... sailing off into the sunset!! When you come back to earth, ponder a moment on the fate of those who annoyed the prison guards. Beneath the North Tower is a pit into which the irritating captives were thrown. Accessed via a hatch in the floor on the lower level of the Tower it had only one benefit for the poor unfortunates who found themselves resident in this hell hole - running water. Yes, running water - twice a day at high tide!
As with all of Scotland's castles, the views from Blackness are wonderful. Climb up to the roof of the Central Tower, the highest point in the castle, to enjoy an amazing panorama of the River Forth and its surrounding landscape. Beautiful in the sunshine, not quite so delightful when windy, and definitely to be avoided when raining, it is here that Blackness can be seen at its best. Castle, pier, village, all set out beneath a blue summer sky, peaceful yet strikingly powerful still - this is how I found it when I paid a visit. A lovely spot, worth calling in to if you find yourself in the area ....... and not a prisoner in sight. Unless, of course, you know different.......      

Open Madness

Thursday 18th to Sunday 21st July, dates that appear to have injected a frenzy of golfing madness into both locals and visitors to Edinburgh alike. The Open Championship is coming to Muirfield, home of the Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers and one of the oldest clubs in the sport. These iconic Scottish links, overlooking the Firth of Forth, will see the new championship layout played for the very first time. Apparently 156 players will compete at Muirfield, with the leading 70 and those tied for 70th place after two rounds qualifying for the final thirty six holes. And what do the world's top golfers hope to win? The Claret Jug - or to give it the correct name, the Golf Champion Trophy - is up for grabs by whomsoever succeeds at golf's oldest major championship. A lovely trophy, I guess, maybe preferable to the competition's original reward for golfing prowess, the Challenge Belt. Made of rich Moroccan leather and embellished with a silver buckle and emblems I am sure it was very nice. But one does tend to associate belts with boxing .......
Now I enjoy sport as much as the next person, but there are two that bore me to death. One is golf, the other Formula One. I know that golf is very important for the Scottish economy, is played by hundreds of people come rain or shine, and obviously keeps people fit. The scenery surrounding some of the courses is simply stunning, the views breathtaking ...... but I cannot generate any enthusiasm for the sport itself. I am sure I am in the minority judging by "Edinburgh Golf Fever" but at least I am honest. Can I play? No. Have I ever tried? No. Do I want to try? No. Will I follow it on the big screen? Probably not ....... but good luck to all those who do, and good luck to all our home-grown golfers. Greens, bunkers, tees, holes, flags, irons, putters, drivers, balls - it's all alien to me. I guess maybe I still see it as an elitist sport, although it is good to see so many youngsters playing.
I did, however, allow myself to be dragged along to St Andrew Square to witness Open Golf mania at first hand. And it was all there - golf simulator, artificial putting green, EA Sports consoles

 allowing you to play some of the great Open courses, tips from PGA golf professionals. You could even have your picture taken with the Claret Jug. Official Open merchandise was on sale - wear it, hit it or look at it. But there was a crazy golf course - and I love crazy golf! No water, no windmills, no pirate ships, great fun nonetheless.
So will I be falling out of my bed at the crack of dawn on Thursday to watch Ernie Els begin the defence of his title? What do you think! I yawn enough at that time of the day without making it worse. I am sure a great many people will find the whole experience incredibly fulfilling, uplifting even, and it would be wonderful if this incredible summer sunshine were to continue. But I shall not be joining the army of spectators descending on Muirfield. I could not stand there waiting for a ball to drop into a hole, however skillful it may be. And there is not a cat in hell's chance I could keep quiet. For those of you who love your golf, make the most of the weekend, go out and enjoy. And who is going to reign victorious? Adam Scott or maybe
Thomas Bjorn ....... but then what do I know!! I could be right, though. Let's wait and see. And I shall resist the temptation to pop across to Muirfield in the dead of the night and fill the holes with springs. Ball drops in .... ball pops out again. No, I shall retain my dignity and satisfy myself with the Jazz and Blues Festival, the Fringe ..... and the World Athletics Championships. Small holes aimed at by slightly smaller balls, Rupert Bear trousers and umbrellas large enough to shelter Edinburgh Castle. Whatever next .......

Saughton Park

 In 1660, or thereabouts, a wealthy Edinburgh merchant by the name of Robert Baird built Saughtonhall House. Part of this estate is now Saughton Park - but a great deal of water has passed under the bridge since its early beginnings. Would you like to know more? Well, I'm going to tell you anyway.
In 1824 Saughtonhall House became a private mental hospital - Saughton Hall Institute for the Recovery of the Insane - " exclusively designed for the reception of patients of the higher ranks." By 1840 over one hundred folk had been admitted. Unlike many other such places, however, Saughton Hall treated its patients very well. Its manager, Dr Lowe, was an avid gardener who firmly believed that growing flowers aided recovery. To these ends, he laid out gardens around the house which were looked after by its residents.
1900 saw the Council purchase the house and estate, the hospital moving to Mavisbank. At this time Saughton Park was on the very edge of town and boasted a nine hole golf course, playing fields and a nursery with greenhouses used to grow plants for parks across Edinburgh. 1908 saw three and a half million visitors flock to Saughton Park to wonder at the spectacle that was the Scottish National Exhibition. And during the Second World War the grounds were dug over to grow tons of onions - yes, onions - for Edinburgh hospitals.
On a slightly more bizarre note, the morning of 4th November 1952 was heralded by hundreds of people dialling 999 to report Saughtonhall House ablaze. This was not a precursor to Bonfire Night or an act of willful destruction. The fire service were more than aware of the situation - they had started the fire! By this time, the house was riddled with dry rot and in real danger of collapsing in an undignified heap. The previous day firemen and soldiers had packed the rooms full of straw soaked in petrol, and rubber tyres. At precisely 8.30am the Firemaster struck the match which ignited the building, instructing his men to keep the fire burning until the house fell down. And so Saughtonhall was no more.
Saughton Park has seen many people come and go. During the 1970s Hearts FC players trained on the pitches. It also saw athletes prepare for the 1986 Commonwealth Games. Today there is still a large tract of open space with playing fields, an athletics track, an award-winning skateboard park, and a brand new play area which opened in 2012. The gardens themselves are quite delightful, another green oasis within the heart of the city. The present Winter Garden owes  much to one of the most popular features at the 1908 Exhibition. Renowned for its stunning display of roses, an amazing sight when in full bloom, the Rose Society actually test new varieties here to see if they survive the unpredictable Scottish climate. A formal garden in a classic style, it has always been famous for its flowers.
By 1914 the area enclosed by the original garden walls had been laid out in an ornamental fashion - a Rosary, an American Garden, a Rock Garden and a Sweet Pea Garden. But however aromatic the scented blooms, they never truly competed with the less than favourable smell from Cox's Glue Factory when the wind was in the east. No such problems today. The roses are joined by neatly-clipped yew hedges, wildflower borders, flower and heather beds, highly scented flowers for the visually impaired to enjoy, and a glass Winter Garden bursting with exotic plants. People sit and read on the many benches dotted about, rest beneath the trees, breath in the fresh air. Others picnic on the grass - some unfortunately unaware that litter goes in litter bins. The clue is in the name - and you have to walk past them to leave the Park! But I guess this is a problem endured by many, not just in Edinburgh. Why people have to behave so thoughtlessly in a public place is beyond me. However, this does little to spoil the enjoyment of such a beautiful place. The Park welcomes gardeners, sports enthusiasts, local children ..... and those strolling along the Water of Leith Walkway. Fortunately the majority leave behind only their footprints and countless happy memories. And if you are really lucky, you may spot
a heron in the river, patiently waiting for a spot of lunch to pass his way .......

If I were a tree ........

Do you ever wonder what it would be like if you were a tree? Strange question I know, but one I have given due consideration to and found somewhat difficult to answer. If I were a tree, where would I be? So many choices, but I guess once I decide on a location there would be no going back. It's not as though you can "up roots" and move on when the mood takes you. Clinging to the bank of a river as it wends its way gently onwards, sheltering the final resting place of those no longer amongst us as the midday sun strokes the cemetery gravestones .... or perhaps standing alone in the middle of a field, tall and proud, a landmark, a place to pass on your journey home. Maybe I would prefer the companionship of a wooded glade, a forest creeping across the slopes of a mountain, or a tree-lined avenue announcing the opulent seclusion of wealthy mansion dwellers. A park, ornamental gardens, the grounds of a manor house ..... where, oh where would I unpack my trunk (sorry!) and take up residence.
Then, of course, much thought must be given to the environment into which I shall plant myself. Children playing beneath my branches, ladies lunching, benches awaiting the reader, the talker, those seeking quiet contemplation or a quick nap ..... yes, that would be most enjoyable. Then there is the forest. Rustled conversation with fellow trees as the breeze softly rustles the leaves, the odd argument or two as storm clouds and angry winds bend branches, refreshing showers as raindrops drip from tree to tree before bouncing to the carpeted forest floor. How I would love the birds nesting as I stretch towards the sky, squirrels scurrying up and down, woodland creatures nestling among my roots. I could be a publicity seeker, an exotic species, blossom-clad, scented, an object of interest, of fascination, photographed daily, talked about in the lecture halls as I take my place in the Botanic Gardens for all to see.
Okay, so all the above given due care and attention, what now? Do I want to be a tall tree, a short tree, or something in between? Should I lose my leaves in the winter, or hang on to them? Am I ready to face the world stark naked when the weather is at its coldest? Maybe not ..... A fruit tree? No. Don't really fancy holding on to apples, plums, pears and the like until they are ripe. Can't let them fall too soon, can't hold on to them too long. Too many decisions for a tree to handle! Blossom ....... blossom would be nice as long as the weather plays ball. Seems to me little point in going to all the trouble of creating a stunning display if an inconsiderate wind blows along and scatters it to all four corners of the earth before it has been fully appreciated by those who fully appreciate such things. Now a horse chestnut tree could be fun. How many direct hits could I achieve as I release my prickly cases above the heads of unsuspecting children. Just retribution, I feel, for their hurling of sticks and stones at my precious cargo. No, maybe not ...... or could I?
This being a tree is hard work. Not just a case of springing up in an empty space and getting on with the job in hand. And some trees are so old. Imagine spending hundreds of years in the same spot. Life around you may change, people come and go, but you remain, solid, dependable. But how wonderful would it be to talk to these trees. Many have witnessed battles, housed fugitives in their branches, seen towns grow around them, experienced all that is good and bad as history has evolved. They know truth from fiction, lived through fire, flood and famine, survived bombs dropping and the onslaught of the industrial age. Yes, many were lost, but those who remain keep history wrapped safely within their trunks, protected by their bark as the leaves of a book are kept safe by their cover.
So do the advantages of being a tree outweight the drawbacks? No shopping, no housework, no financial pressures. But what would I face were I a tree? No shelter from the elements, at the mercy of wind, rain and snow, no escape from all our weather can conjure up at a moment's notice. And trees get sick .... but have to wait until someone notices. No quick phone call to the tree surgeon or the summoning of an ambulance. Trees die .... but few come to bid them farewell. I could be chopped down and left to rot, or meet a fiery end on a bonfire. And do I really want woodpeckers hammering into me, giving me trunk-ache? Or suffer at the hands of inane idiots carving their initials - or worse - into my trunk in acts of mindless vandalism. Do I want to be discarded in the name of progress, climbed by cats stupid enough to get stuck and then driven insane by their constant meowing until a shiny red fire engine pops along to effect a rescue. I may be struck by lightning, washed away in a flood, eaten by termites, attacked by woodworm ....... no, I don't think I want to be a tree. Maybe a flower ........

Gifford

The mysterious Goblin Ha' Hotel in the delightful village of Gifford, a lovely place to spend a night away from the city. Comfy beds, wonderful food - and steeped in legend. Before I hear you all groaning in anticipation, this is a short but interesting history lesson. Deep in the realms of the past, the year 1267 saw Yester Castle built for Sir Hugo Gifford, thought by local folk to be a wizard. Within the design of this castle was a dungeon, a vast subterranean chamber, known as the Goblin Hall or Goblin Ha'. But this was no ordinary dungeon - or so we are led to believe. Many heard tell it was built with the aid of magic, wizardly spells and fairy frolics. Others go down a more sinister route, believing the devil himself played a role in its construction. Whatever the truth, lingering in this cold, dank chamber is not advised, so perhaps it is more than a little fortunate that public access is now forbidden. Despite its name, no doubt the subject of many an enquiry, the hotel is far more welcoming, the only magic the conjuring up of excellent meals.
It comes as no surprise that Yester Castle was sporadically fought over by the Scots and the English during the Wars of Independence. The village of Yester sprang up around it, and it was in this very village that the infamous John Knox was born in 1505. When the Gifford family took their privacy more seriously in the early 1700s, they took somewhat drastic action. 1708 saw the systematic removal of the village of Yester to a new location, and a settlement to which the family gave their name came into being. Hence the village of Gifford was born. Yester Castle was later abandoned by the family when they moved into Yester House, built between the castle and the new settlement.

The focus of this new village of Gifford was Yester Parish Church. Built to a T-plan, this white harled church has a striking square tower topped by a rather modest spire. Completed in 1710, it incorporated the bell from the old parish church which dated back to 1492. Following three hundred years of wear and tear and more than a few batterings from the good old Scottish weather, the church has recently been renovated. Nothing short of magnificent, this refurbishment has been carried out to a very high standard, the quality of the woodwork quite striking. And a wander around the churchyard will bring you to some very interesting gravestones. Suffering from the ravages of time, names have been eroded, dates known only by those who lie beneath. But the story of a village is held within these stones, a story time cannot remove.
Commemorated by a plaque on a wall near the church, John Witherspoon is probably Gifford's most famous son. Emigrating to America, he is distinguished by being the only clergyman to sign the American Declaration of Independence. He also went on to become the first president
of Princeton University.
Gifford is a picturesque village, one of Scotland's prettiest, and well worth a visit. Quiet, charming, friendly, with its imposing Town Hall fronted by the mercat cross, pleasant green areas and postcard cottages, it has only two hostelries today - the Goblin Ha' and the Tweedale Arms. In the days of the thrice-annual fairs there were six public houses keeping farmers and traders alike supplied with ale and spirits. Sideshows became a colourful part of the scene. All the hustle and bustle of the market made it a vastly different place to the one we see today. One can stroll along the peaceful streets and leave the clamour of cattle, the shouts of the traders, and the music of the sideshows to the imagination. Pure heaven .......

Seeking out Sammy ..... Back to the Botanics

The hottest day of the year so far saw the Botanics sweltering in temperatures almost alien to this part of the country. Dripping ice-creams decorated the faces of children out to enjoy the sunshine, people lay stretched out on the manicured lawns soaking up summer whilst others vied for every inch of shade beneath the towering trees, bees busied themselves collecting pollen from the many flowers swayed gently by the softest of breezes ........ yes, a truly beautiful day. So quiet, so peaceful, bustling city streets but a footstep away yet appearing so distant in the still of the afternoon. So difficult to believe this is the heart of Edinburgh - so alive, so vibrant, so cosmopolitan.
Not the ideal day to seek out Sammy but worth a try nonetheless. Not a sun worshipper - I guess it's not the kind of thing squirrels do - he was not scurrying around, hurrying here and there as is his custom. No, today I came across him resting beneath the magnificent Juniperus Rigida, an amazing tree in the form of a giant umbrella. There he was, laid back in a deckchair, a glass of his very best homemade blackberry wine in one hand and a pine cone lolly in the other. Gone was the tartan scarf and tam o'shanter, replaced by a smart pair of tartan shorts and a pair of river-reed sandals.
"So it's here at last ..... summer ...... hot days, sticky, sleepless nights, tossing and turning. Is it all worth it I ask myself, or is this summer business every bit as bad as the rain, the wind and the snow. Like an oven my drey is. Gonna wake up one morning roasted squirrel. Shouldn't complain, I suppose. Been waiting long enough to put me wellies away and get me shorts out."
Sammy sipped his drink, closed his eyes for a second as if to collect his thoughts, then off he went once more.
"It's okay for them ducks, in and out the water all the time. Been watching Mrs Duck trying to control her young 'uns. Scrabbling between the rocks, getting tangled up in the reeds, pinching bread from the moorhens. Right handful they are. Not like mine. Grown up and gone ...... although they do reappear every now and then when the nuts run out!! Never really get rid of them, do you. Squirrels can't be doing with water you know ...... gets under the tail, in the ears,
everywhere you don't want it to be. If I want a wet face, I'll have a wash."
With the afternoon getting hotter and hotter, the need to find liquid sustenance was taking priority over my chat with Sammy. Leaving him to his shady repose, I ventured back into the sunlight. How tempting the pond looked, how refreshing it would have been to stand under the waterfall and take a cool shower. Just a quick paddle, a swift dip ...... no, that is not how grown ups behave in the Botanic Gardens. It is surprising how few days of near-tropical conditions you need before gardens start to take on an almost desert-like appearance and cry out for rain. And how little blistering sunshine you need before one turns into a water-seeking lunatic. Why, I wonder, are we not conditioned to sweat ice-cold droplets of water when the weather reaches a certain temperature (or indeed perspire if you are a lady)? Not only would you keep cool, but body odour would be a thing of the past. Science is going forward in leaps and bounds ....... so how about a cold sweat pill. Just a thought ......... maybe the sun is getting to me and I need a drink ...... any drink as long as it is cold and wet! Is that an oasis I see at the top of the hill, a mirage, the sun playing tricks on my shrivelled brain? Or perhaps it is merely the Terrace Cafe, a welcoming respite from the heat of the day, beckoning my wilting body ever onwards. Crazy? Me? Never ...... well perhaps just an iota ........