Halloween ..........

 Halloween .... a hauntingly crazy evening full of spooky fun and ghostly goings-on is fast approaching. But what are the origins of this festival, an occasion which has grown in popularity over the years and which is celebrated across the globe, not solely in Christian countries as many seem to think. Halloween is indeed a time not just of celebration but of superstition, marking the closing of the door on autumn and the opening of the door to winter. Many believe it has its origins in the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, bringing the harvest to a close and heralding the onset of the dark winter months. This was seen as a time when spirits could enter our world with ease, a time when they were at their most active. It was said that souls of the dead came to revisit their earthly homes, and feasts were held at which these souls, spirits of dead family members, were invited to attend. A place would be set at the table for these ghostly beings to "partake" of the meal. Many people would dress up and light bonfires in the belief that these actions would ward off roaming ghosts. The 8th century saw Pope Gregory III designate November 1st as a holiday to honour the memory of all saints and martyrs - All Saints Day - and many of the traditions of Samhain were incorporated into this festival. The night before became known as All Hallows Eve, or Halloween, a name originating from the Scottish dialect. As the centuries passed, Halloween evolved into a secular, community-based event associated with child-friendly activities. Trick-or-treat, carving pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns, apple bobbing, creepy stories, dressing up .... all are now popular as darkness falls and the witching hour approaches.

I recently came across the legend surrounding jack-o-lanterns, an interesting little tale. Travelling home after a night of drinking, a somewhat tipsy rogue called Jack encountered the devil. This satanic inmate from the fiery depths of hell tricked Jack into climbing a tree. Why? No idea. But a quick-thinking Jack, despite his intoxication, carved the sign of the cross into the bark of the tree, thus trapping the devil. Crafty Jack then struck a deal with Satan, making him promise that he would never capture or claim his soul. Then Jack went on his way convinced he was safe for all eternity. However, after a debauched life of sin, drink and mendacity poor old Jack was refused entry into heaven, the pearly gates well and truly slammed in his face. Keeping his promise, the devil likewise refused Jack entry into hell, throwing a live coal straight from the fires of his kingdom at the hapless Jack. It was a cold night, so Jack placed the burning coal into a hollowed-out turnip to stop it going out. And from that day onwards Jack has roamed the earth with his lantern, looking for a place to rest. Impressed? Thought you would be. So keep your eyes peeled for a flickering flame drifting across the fields ......

Off you go, all you witches and wizards, ghosts, skeletons, vampires, werewolves, black cats and other assorted monsters. Bring out your bats, search out your spiders, cotton wool your cobwebs and bound along on your broomsticks. But beware the churchyard, the gravestones cold and grey in the moonlight, piercing red eyes peering out through the darkness. Oh yes, people, feel a breeze where there is no wind, a touch on the shoulder from an unseen hand, shadows falling where no person stands, whispers in the darkness, the hoot of an owl, the spine-tingling howl of a wolf lurking in the shelter of the woods. 'Tis Halloween, not for the faint-hearted, the nervous, the unbelievers ....... Bob your apples, paint your faces, carve your pumpkins, sit around the fire recounting tales to send shivers down the spine as smoke wends its way eerily into the night sky. For this is no ordinary evening. IT IS HALLOWEEN!!  



Blackhall St Columba's Church

 Blackhall St. Columba's Church was born on 4th March 1900, today a beautiful yet simple building exuding an air of calm and tranquility beside a busy main road. The creation of this wonderful place of worship was made possible through the efforts and generosity of the minister and congregation of Cramond Parish Church. Why Cramond? Blackhall lay partly within the Cramond Parish boundary and was in the process of being developed as a suburb of Edinburgh. The original church was of the old "iron church design" and its rapidly growing congregation soon rendered it too small for its needs. The result? Plans for a new church were drawn up in 1902 by Glasgow architect, a Mr P MacGregor, a gentleman who had connections with Iona Abbey Church. It is no surprise, then, that the design of Blackhall St. Columba's bore more than a passing resemblance to Iona. Building began in 1903, the new church dedicated on 28th May 1904.
But once again, the congregation soon outgrew the church.
The plans had been for a church to seat 500 people. They had, however, included the possibility of adding an extension to accommodate 900 if necessary. And it was. The district continued to expand, and the early 1930s saw the addition of the south aisle, session room, gallery and choir room, all dedicated in 1935. And if you look in the wall at the foot of the south aisle, close to the vestry door, you will see a large piece of stone from Iona Abbey Church. Set in the wall outside the session room is another piece showing a Celtic Cross. At various places within the church and vestibule you can spot texts from the Bible carved into the stone walls. Read them and reflect .....
One of my favourite features of this church is the decorative stone font, situated in the north aisle, bearing the inscription "Suffer the little ones to come unto me." On top of this font stands the Cross of Monte Cassino. Made by a soldier during World War II for a "tented church" it was brought to St. Columba's by an army chaplain. It's longer than normal crossbar bears witness to the style of cross more often associated with the marking of a soldier's grave. The organ, too, is of great historical significance. Purchased from Greyfriars Kirk in 1932, it had been built by David Hamilton in 1865 and was reputed to have been the very first organ ever to have been used in the Church of Scotland. So this makes it the original "kist fu' o' whistles". What a wonderfully musical phrase, almost echoing the sound of this superb instrument. Patched up over the years and reaching the end of its playing career, it was decided, in 2002, to investigate options for replacement or refurbishment. Hence the new organ, built by Sandy Edmonstone of Forteviot, in a case designed by Derek Watson-Griggs, was dedicated on 10th September 2006. It is truly beautiful to behold. And, I am told, equally as amazing to hear in full flow.
Also stunning, again in a simplistic way, are the seven stained glass windows. Six were donated by the Croall family as a memorial to Robert Croall of Craigcrook Castle who passed away in 1898. The two windows in the apse represent Bread and Wine, echoed in the carving along the top edge of the communion table. The three windows above the arch depict the Crucifixion, whilst the sixth, in the north aisle, shows Mary with the baby Jesus. The final window, situated in the vestibule, is an abstract depiction of Christ. This was designed by a Japanese stained glass artist, Yoshiro Oyama, living in Blackhall, who generously gifted the window to the congregation in 2004. I could go on forever about this delightful church, the lectern falls telling of Noah and his sending of the dove from the Ark, the pulpit falls which change with the seasons of the Church, the wall hangings, the embroidered outline of the Church - but I won't. Go to St. Columba's yourself and see this jewel in the crown of the Church of Scotland.

 

St. Bernard's Well

St. Bernard's Well, picturesque, tranquil, standing in a deep valley with green woodland stretching upwards on either side, the Water of Leith flowing timelessly beneath. Its legendary mineral waters have been sourced from here for centuries, wealthy holiday makers visiting Edinburgh to partake of the waters especially in the late 1700s and the 1800s when such things were deemed popular. Nobility and gentry took summer quarters in the Dean Valley, drinking from the well and taking in the country air. Various claims were made about its medicinal properties, many believing a cure for arthritis, backache and even total blindness could be found in the acrid water. Participants described the taste as having the "odious twang of hydrogen gas" or like the "washings from a foul gun barrel." One J. Taylor MD claimed in 1790 that the waters could cure "scorbutic cases, hysterics and hypochondriacs, joint complaints arising from congestion, scrophulous complaints, nephritic complaints and viscid glairy mucus, impotency and all the diseases of a lax
and weak fibre." Charming!
So how did all this begin? It is said that the well was named after St. Bernard of Clairvaux, founder of the Cistercian Order. Badly received at court and suffering from sickness, he went to live in a cave nearby. Attracted to the mineral spring by the sound of visiting birds, he drank of the healing waters until his strength returned. And according to local legend - a wonderful thing, local legend - the spring was "rediscoverd" in 1760 by three lads from Heriot's Hospital who were fishing on the banks of the Water of Leith. That same year things really began to look up for the well. The spring was roofed over by its owner, the eccentric judge Lord Gardenstone. He spent two years overseas during the 1780s for health reasons - and then found a far better tonic at home. In 1789 he commissioned Alexander Naysmith to design a new pump-house for the spring. Inspired by the Temple of Sybil at Tivoli, the open rotunda was supported by ten tall Doric order columns. Within this "temple" was a statue of Hygeia, Greek goddess of health and hygiene, built of Coade stone, a type of ceramic which soon became damaged. It was later replaced by one of Craigleith sandstone. During Doors Open Days you can visit the interior of the pump-room, elaborately decorated with beige and terracotta mosaics on the floor and walls, and a beautiful domed ceiling speckled with golden stars and a golden radiating sun. A single coloured glass window, a small stove, and the white marble pump on which is carved "Bibendo Valebis" - by drinking you will become well - complete the picture.
So popular was St. Bernard's Well that Lord Gardenstone  employed a custodian, George Murdoch, to receive money, provide glasses and ensure the many regulations were observed. He was in attendance between 6.00am and 9.00am, the potency of the water considered to be at its strongest in the early morning. The well was extensively renovated in 1887 by William Nelson, its then owner, employing the services of fashionable decorative artist Thomas Bonnar. D. W. Stevenson carved a new statue of Hygeia, and the lower terrace was laid out. The Well was then gifted to Edinburgh City Council to be used by everyone. And it has recently undergone yet another much needed restoration.   
Today, as you walk along the Water of Leith towards St. Bernard's Well, there are occasions when you can still detect the dull metallic smell of the spring. But this is a pleasant spot, a charming spot, stunning on a bright summer's day. But many say the best time to visit is an hour after a torrential downpour. Rainwater from the Pentlands thunders through the channels under the Dean Bridge and the well is at its atmospheric best. As it is in the moonlight, after a fall of snow, standing tall against a deep blue sky, imprisoned by storm clouds ...... anytime, I guess. So serene, so beautiful, yet so deceptive. Taste the waters? Take a chance on their healing powers? No, I don't think so. Not me. Paracetamol does the job just fine.



John Knox House

John Knox House, another of Edinburgh's wonderfully historic buildings that has sparked countless debates as to its past. Did this fire-brand preacher, after whom it is named, ever live here? Many believe the strong Catholic connections of the house would have rendered this highly improbable. Others say he lived here for a few months during the siege of Edinburgh Castle and believe he may even have died here. I guess we shall never truly know .... Ironically one thing that is beyond doubt is that when John Knox was at the very pinnacle of his fame, the owner of this house was very much on the opposite side of the political debate as goldsmith to Mary, Queen of Scots. It is certainly one of the oldest houses in Edinburgh, and its connection with John Knox has undoubtedly saved it from demolition on more than one occasion.
Although parts of the house date back to 1470, it was mostly built in the mid-1500s. On the ground floor you can still see the remnants of medieval locked booths or "luckenbooths" once rented out to other merchants by house owner James Mossman. It could be said this was Edinburgh's very first shopping centre. Despite its atmospheric rooms complete with wood panelling and painted ceilings, their sense of history, of being somehow at the forefront of the Reformation, it is the exterior of John Knox House that gives it such a romantic image. Timber galleries project out from the first floor, and forestairs give access directly into the upper rooms from the street below. But beware .... the seventh step is slightly higher than the rest. Why? To trip up any intruders creeping up them, especially at night. At the corner of the building, between the ground and first floor, can be seen a figure of Moses kneeling upon a sundial. Next to him is an image of the sun inscribed upon which are the Greek, Latin and English words for God. Originally there would have been  a miniature pulpit below him, creating a picture pertaining to John Knox preaching.
John Knox House has an interesting history. Owned by one Walter Reidpath, it was later conveyed by his daughter to her son John Arres. Mariota Arres and her husband James Mossman, a wealthy goldsmith, acquired the house in 1556 and adapted the building to their own tastes. Their initials and coat of arms decorate the outside of the house to this day, together with the biblical inscription "Luve God abuve al and yi nychtbour as yi self." And this is when things really begin to
heat up. A confirmed Catholic and ardent supporter of Mary,
Queen of Scots, Mossman soon became embroiled in the religious turmoil of the times. Mary was forced to abdicate in favour of her baby son, James VI, who was to be brought up in the Presbyterian faith. Fearing for the loss of his exalted position and wealth under this new regime, Mossman joined a revolt which took Edinburgh Castle in Mary's name. Although this revolt ultimately failed, the rebels managed to hold on to the Castle for three years before being forcibly removed and executed as traitors. Poor James Mossman. In 1571 he had lost all his possessions, was sacked from his position as Master of the Royal Hunt, and charged with treason. But worse was to come. Following the surrender of Mary's supporters in 1573, he was arrested, dragged on a cart from Holyrood to the Merkat Cross, hung, quartered, and beheaded.
Strange events were to ensue in 1840. The tenement next to John Knox House suddenly and inexplicably split in two. It was said that this bizarre occurence exposed the residents inside eating their breakfast. Hmm ..... The future of the entire site was in jeopardy, but such was the outcry from antiquarians and the Church that the scale of the destruction was scaled back. When the New Town was built, the area had become run down, degenerating into what can only be described as slum accommodation. In the 1800s there would have been at least one family, if not more, living in each room of John Knox House. And bear in mind that at this time, families usually consisted of 8 - 10 children, so overcrowding was a very real problem. The mid-1800s saw the reconstruction of the house, and it opened as a museum in 1853, run by the Free and United Free Churches of Scotland, and subsequently by the Church of Scotland itself.
So what of John Knox himself? For those of you a little hazy as to his background, he was ordained as a priest into the Roman Catholic religion but became disillusioned with the Catholic faith, feeling the shortcomings of this Church and being drawn to the ideas and teachings of the reformed religion. One of the main movers and shakers behind the abdication of Mary, he firmly believed a king brought up a Presbyterian would be more beneficial to Scotland. He was a great orator with the power to influence the common people with his preaching. Tradition dictates that a small window on the first floor of John Knox House was once used by Knox, leaning out to preach to the people in the street below. If you visit the house, the view down the Royal Mile from this window is simply stunning ... one of the best you will find. So go along, see for yourself, walk in the footsteps - or maybe not ... of one of Scotland's most famous religious fanatics.
 

Birthdays ......

Older and wiser ..... that's what they say, don't they ..... older and wiser. Another birthday, another grey hair, another wrinkle embedding itself on your face when you're not looking. Where does time go, and when did it gather momentum, each year now passing in the blinking of an eye. When all is quiet I sit and listen to the clock ticking, listen to the seconds passing, counting each one as if saying it aloud will somehow make time slow down. But it doesn't, does it. The days, the weeks, the years continue to roll on, stretching on into the future, reeling it in until the end comes ever closer. That's the good thing about digital clocks - no incessant tick tock, no marking the loss of another moment, a moment never to be retrieved, never to be taken again.
On occasions I sit back and think, drawing from the past to make the present more bearable. Memories are a wonderful thing. No-one can change them, no-one can take them away from you. They are yours for all eternity, to lock deep within your heart, a treasure to which only you have the key. I guess all our lives are a roller coaster, a ride on which there are times we wish to stay on and others when we wish to jump off. For some of us life is a constant challenge, a battle of wits, a race in which we clear one obstacle only for another to take its place. We solve one problem, allow ourselves a smug smile, a moment of elation, and then plop! Another one drops in our lap. Often I feel the need to scream out "Give me a break, I'm doing my best". Life is no rehearsal, it's the real thing. Just wish there was more time to practise, more time for a dummy run before facing it head on. Still, another year has passed and I am still here.
Okay, so now pull yourself together, take a deep breath .... and smile. Stop complaining young lady - or maybe that should be "not so young." Three wonderful children and four equally gorgeous grandchildren make life worthwhile, keep me as young as it is possible to be kept. Life is not so bad I suppose. A few creaking bones, the odd ache and pain where yesterday there were none, a little forgetful - no, very forgetful, sorry I forgot - a little more time needed to tackle the stairs ..... but life is still with me, still to be enjoyed, smiled at, embraced. Occasionally it does you good to take a step back, look around and be thankful for all you have. Every breath should be savoured, every new day greeted with hope and confidence - hope for the future and confidence that you can face that future whatever it may hold. So I'm getting a little rusty - but only a little - and the mirror is now for passing, no longer for stopping and admiring. Maybe the odd nip and tuck might not go amiss, a helping hand removing boobs from knees and putting back firmly where they belong, a little more make-up, a little less flashing thigh ...... But hey, I'm me. Another year older, a little battle-scarred in places, a little slower maybe, but that's how it is. Sense of humour still in place, wonderful friends, wonderful family, plenty to get hold off ....... This is me, at least for another year. So take me or leave me but please don't burst my bubble. My mum and dad gave me my bubble, filled it with love and set it free. Now it floats along beside me, they take my hand when things get tough, and so life goes on. Happy birthday to me xxx   

Dean Gardens ...... Beautiful in the Autumn

Simply stunning ...... summer gradually giving way to autumn, colours slowly changing from green to golden brown, a hazy sun collecting the remnants of one glorious season and sprinkling them amidst the opening of another. I grasped another opportunity afforded by Doors Open Days and soaked up the heady atmosphere of perhaps my favourite time of year and wandered through Dean Gardens.
Dean Gardens, one of Edinburgh's largest private gardens and one of only four "pleasure grounds" to border the equally picturesque Water of Leith, covers more than seven acres. Planted slopes run down to levelled lawns, pathways lead to delightful viewpoints overlooking the Dean Valley. These well-tended lawns, the snaking pathways, and the wooden pavilion cling to a layout virtually unchanged from the original Victorian era plans. An impressive children's play area has replaced the former tennis court, encouraging young families to enjoy the Gardens. Over the years many forest trees were planted, changing the whole character of the Gardens, but today they have become a brighter more open
space. Many of the elm trees and several ageing trees from other species had to be removed, allowing daylight to spread across this beautiful area bringing the countryside into the city centre.
Unlike many of Edinburgh's green spaces, the lungs of a thriving city, membership of Dean Gardens is by application rather than address. And many take advantage of this. Calm, peaceful, an area to rest, relax, read a book, enjoy a lovely walk between the West End and Stockbridge, absorb an air of tranquility with your dog for company and marvel at your surroundings. See the weir pounding into the Water of Leith, follow the river on its journey, sit and admire St. Bernard's Well, walk among the trees and flowers in the footsteps of so many before you. And look up at the feat of engineering that is Dean Bridge (Telford's Bridge) as you stroll beneath its mighty arches.
So how did Dean Gardens come into being? They were founded in the 1860s by a group of nearby residents. Their initial aim was to improve the "bank", a steep slope used for the grazing of sheep, an eyesore peppered with building debris. The original work, including the acquisition of additional land, took over ten years. And in a more than impressive undertaking, almost £1.8 million in today's money was raised through public subscriptions, modest bank loans and fund-raising events to cover this work. If you get the chance to visit these Gardens, please do. It is well worth it.   

Guess what I found .........

Seldom do I find myself in the vicinity of Edinburgh's wonderful Botanic Gardens without spending a few hours wandering its paths, admiring the splendour that is Mother Nature at her very best. But today, some mysterious force was beckoning to me, the promise of something special guiding my footsteps through the gates and onwards across the manicured lawns. Autumn had just begun to touch the leaves, shades of gold and brown gently encroaching onto a world of green. Flowers reflected the slowly changing seasons, grasping the watery sunshine that belies the onset of cooler weather, colourful blooms heralding the arrival of September and the gradual demise of summer.
And then I saw them, lurking in the undergrowth, unexpected, unannounced, a blot on the beauty of the Botanics - a cluster of hosepipus rubberium hiding beneath the mighty pines. What an intrusion into one of my favourite places, what impertinence to dare think they belong amongst such horticultural perfection, such elegance ......
Hosepipus rubberium, an unsightly yellow in colour, thin, coiled, as welcome in these gardens as the serpent in the Garden of Eden and bearing more than a passing resemblance to the same. I had to photograph these interlopers, these brazen invaders into the peace and tranquility of this natural paradise. And imagine my horror at encountering another of these scars on the landscape, these pimples on a perfect skin, snaking its way towards the greenhouses, slithering up the stonework, sucking the moisture from the very earth which gives sustenance to so many plants of real beauty. Jealousy? Probably. Hideous hosepipus rubberium, spitting out water like venom from the jaws of a snake, enticing true trees and flowers into a false sense of security. "Let me water you, let me help you grow and flourish" they smirk .... and then they pounce, winding their sinewy bodies around delicate stems and tender shoots. Oh yes, don't let them fool you. They may look innocent, harmless, curled motionless on the grass. But they are not!!
You will rarely see them breeding in the open, preferring the
sanctity of the garden centre. But breed they do, once the
problem of discovering which end is which has been overcome. Maybe the time has come for a cull of the hosepipus rubberium. Slaughter them? No, not even the hosepipus rubberium deserves a fate this cruel and calculated. I advocate blocking both ends with straw and superglue while they are sleeping. Now try and copulate!!
Mad? Not me. I have encountered the hosepipus rubberium in the wild and lived to tell the tale. Keep your eyes peeled, your wits about you ....... And they don't just come in yellow, oh no. They are evolving, becoming crafty, developing camouflage. Yes indeed. Some of them are green!! How sneaky is that.
 



The Chapel of St. Albert the Great

What is so wonderful about Doors Open Days is the opportunity it affords members of the public to access buildings they would normally walk past without a backward glance. So many places into which we can walk for just a few hours each year, peeling back often faceless facades to reveal a wealth of hidden history and culture just a step or two from the pavement. I love discovering these places, scratching below the surface to see what makes a city tick, what links the past with the present, tradition with new idealogy and modern thought.
One of the most inspiring places is the Chapel of St. Albert the Great in George Square. Since 1931 the Dominican community at St. Albert's Catholic Chaplaincy has been providing an independent chaplaincy service to Edinburgh University. The Chapel began life in a converted drawing room in an 18th century townhouse in George Square, an area holding the enviable distinction of being the oldest Georgian Square in Edinburgh. Its most redeeming feature was a stunning bay window which flooded the room with afternoon light. However, with the need for disabled access, increased capacity and more favourable ventilation, a new chapel was built
in the back garden to satisfy these conditions. Although
initially a very ornate affair, the 1960s saw the chapel stripped back to its original scotch pine wooden floor, off-white walls and plain glass windows. And through one of these windows a sycamore tree, well-established after decades of growth, dominated the view. A natural indicator of the changing seasons and the passage of light from day into night, it became a focus for prayer and contemplation.  From this picture of nature at its most beautiful grew the idea of a green chapel, a place to worship at one with the world around it. And no doubt St. Albert the Great, a natural scientist from the Middle Ages, would have given his seal of approval to the breathtaking chapel we now see today.
Barely visible from the street, the Chapel of St. Albert the Great is simplistic yet effective, a clever use of wood echoing the beauty of the sycamore. The roof appears to float motionless above the glass sanctuary wall, yet in reality is gracefully held by four Corten steel "trees" reflecting the genuine articles. The chapel overflows with natural materials, light and airy yet full of illusion. A solid stone altar with its carved cross, a hand carved Flemish Madonna and Child, a carved wooden processional cross standing behind the altar, a "distressed" water stoop by the entrance, all these add delightful touches whilst at the same time blending with the symmetry of the Chapel.
Calm, serene, a place of worship in the midst of a city, the Dominican Friars at its heart, this is a truly awe-inspiring building, a place to think, to pray, to wonder, to embrace ....... and long may it continue in its simplistic state, at one with God and his creations.