Wednesday, 7 July 2021

Edinburgh (2), Royal Yacht, Royal Mile and the Forth Bridges: Scotland '21 Part 2

Plus an Empty Shopping Mall, a Contender for the World's Ugliest Parliament Building and a Trio of Bridges

The (former) Royal Yacht Britannia

By Car from Edinburgh to Leith


Scotland
Edinburgh
Next morning, with a full Scottish breakfast inside us (identical to a ‘full English’ plus haggis) we waited for the rush hour to subside before extracting the car from the car park and heading for Leith. ‘You drove to Leith?’ said Norma and Wilson (our hosts on the next stage of this journey) their voices pitched somewhere between incredulity and horror. ‘The bus is so much easier.’ Of course, they are right - when you know the city - but I am wary of bus rides in unfamiliar locations. Metros and trams have named stops, you know where you are and when you have arrived, but a bus ride is a journey into the unknown; you have no idea of your location and are reliant on the kindness of strangers (who don’t always agree) to know when to get off. Our sat nav, however, would takes us straight to our chosen parking spot.

We drove from our hotel near the castle to Leith, home of the Royal Yacht Britannia (Thanks to mapsofworld.com)

The word ‘straight’ in that last sentence was wishful thinking. It took us round in a misshapen circle north of the castle, including half a mile along what appeared to be a bus/taxi route. If so, I got away with it. I hoped it might be searching for the right level in this hilly city to find the high road to Leith, but once out of the loop we bumped along small urban roads through seemingly endless outer Edinburgh districts I had never heard of. In due course, though, we arrived safely at the Ocean Terminal Shopping Centre; it was besieged by road works and its colour coded car parks required guesswork.

The Ocean Terminal, Leith

The shopping mall is not my natural habitat. They have all the charms of an airport departure lounge, with the disadvantage that you come out in the same place you went in. But I liked the Ocean Terminal – we had it to ourselves.

The Ocean Terminal, Leith

We had some time to kill, and after yesterday’s soaking I took the opportunity to buy a waterproof, a lucky cagoule, as it turned out - I had no cause to remove it from its pouch during the rest of our trip. Then we drank one of Costa’s oversized cappuccinos.

Onto the Former Royal Yacht

As the sign on the stairs (above) suggested, the Ocean Terminal is an unusual shopping mall; it has a former royal yacht attached. Clutching our timed ticket in our sweaty hands we approached the entrance at the appropriate time and were allotted to a guided tour.

The Former Royal Yacht Britannia beside the Ocean Terminal, Leith

126m long and nigh on 6,000 tonnes with not a sail in sight, Britannia is hardly a regular sort of yacht. Built in Clydebank, Britannia was commissioned in 1954 and pensioned off in 1997 when Leith won the competition to keep it permanently as a tourist attraction.

We started in the bridge and worked our away along and down. Britannia had a crew of 120 ‘yachtsmen’ and 21 officers. I am unsure how they all fitted in, or what they all found to do. The most senior officer was usually an Admiral, and on the bridge, where others stood, he had a seat.

Her Majesty's Yacht, Britannia

Naval ratings volunteered for a two-year tour of duty as a Yachtsmen and after one year’s satisfactory service could opt for Britannia as a permanent posting. Maybe the Admiral was also a volunteer, a man equipped with the appropriate social graces but whose career was running out of steam. After all, the Admiralty would not want one of their best naval minds (if there is such a thing) cruising around on a yacht all year. On the other hand, he (they were all men) could not be a complete duffer, parking the monarch on a sandbank would be a poor advertisement for the Royal Navy.

The Accommodation

The admiral had a pleasant room where he could munch his breakfast toast or meet his senior staff.

Admiral's Breakfast room/office, HMY Britannia

His accommodation was hardly spacious…

Admiral's accommodation, HMY Britannai

…but it is roomier than that of the yachtsmen.

Yachtsman's accommodation, HMY Britannia

Even the queen’s bedroom resembles a mid-range 1970s hotel room.

Queen's bedroom, HMY Britannia

The Duke of Edinburgh had a slightly less attractive room adjoining – the aristocracy have traditionally preferred separate bedrooms (do they still?) - and could look with envy on his wife’s spacious office across the corridor.

Queen's Office, HMY Britannia

Would You Like a Drink?

The royal lounge was pleasant if a bit dated even for 1997, but if the queen required a gin and tonic, a lifted finger would set a flunky in motion.

Royal lounge, HMY Britannia

The officers had a comfortable wardroom (if they could prise that old masked man away from the bar)…

I think I've found my natural position, Wardroom HMY Britannia

…decorated with an enormous silver salt cellar in the shape of a ship (over-designed or what?), a gift from the last Russian Tsar….

Silver salt cellar, the Wardroom, HMY Britannia

…and the autograph of Lord Nelson, signed Viscount Nelson, Count of Bronte. Bronte was a Sicilian title bestowed on him in 1799 for services rendered to that kingdom in the course of the Napoleonic wars.

Nelson's autograph, Wardroom, HMY Britannia

The wardroom and its comfortable dining room can be hired for private functions.

Officer's dining, HMY Britannia

The chief petty officers had a full bar, too.

Chief Petty Officers' Bar

The Royal Navy has always floated best on a sea of alcohol and for the yachtsman beer (but only beer) was readily available. The tradition, started in 1740, of sailors receiving a daily tot of ‘grog’ (rum with sugar, lime juice and water) ended in 1970, but a grog barrel is still on display..

Grog barrel, HMY Britannia

When the queen was required to entertain, the State Dining Room was impressive. You can hire that, too if you like, and the Band of the Royal Marines to amuse your guests.

The state dining room, HMY Britannia

The Equipment

Deep in the bowels of the yacht is the engine room. By 1997, the two Pametrada steam turbines built in Wallsend by the Parsons Marine Steam Turbine Company were functioning museum pieces.

The Engine Room, HMY Britannia

Britannia was built before the days of satellite navigation, indeed before the days of satellites and the ship’s binnacle is on display with the ship’s bell.

Binnacle and bell, HMY Britannia

When GPS was installed, it was, we were told, hidden in the gold finials atop the masts.

Gilded finial hiding GPS equipment

And what sits inside the container seen below is still a state secret – or maybe I have just forgotten.

It is definitely one of them, HMY Britannia

So ends this look at what has been described as a floating palace. But it is not a palace. Palaces are displays of ostentatious wealth designed to cow rivals and awe the peasantry. European monarchs no longer act that way – at least the ones that have survived, and maybe that is why they survived. Britannia was comfortable for royal travellers – in the slightly stiff and formal way of British royalty – but it was never palatial. Perhaps it should have been decommissioned well before 1997, but sentiment intervened. The days of such yachts have surely passed.

After coffee and a sandwich in M&S we found our way back to central Edinburgh. The journey seemed simpler – it is only a little over 3 miles, anyway - but there does not appear to be a dedicated Edinburgh to Leith road, just a succession of residential and commercial 2-lane urban thoroughfares.

The Royal Mile

The Royal Mile is a name given to the part-pedestrianised street that descends eastwards from the castle to Holyrood Palace. Despite the sign at the castle end there is no street called ‘The Royal Mile’, the top section is Castlehill, which becomes Lawnmarket, then High Street and finally Cannongate, one leading into the next. It is, though, almost exactly a mile long.

The start of the Royal Mile outside the castle

There is a lot to see, apart from the tartan and whisky shops, and my selection is, at best, idiosyncratic.

Boswell’s Court

Now the well-established Witchery Restaurant where you can dine in ‘baroque surroundings’ and/or stay in ‘lavishly decorated suites’. The close was named after a Dr Boswell who lived here in the late 18th Century. His nephew James Boswell (1740-95) was the biographer of Dr Samuel Johnson who is reputed to have dined here with him.

Boswell's Court, Royal Mile

The Hub (Tolbooth Kirk)

Further down beside the roundabout where Castlehill meets (non-pedestrianised) Lawnmarket is the dark soaring tower of a building formerly known as the Tolbooth Kirk. Built 1842-5, it looks like a church and has been used as a church, but was designed as a meeting hall for the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland. In full gothic revival style, it is the work of J Gillespie Graham and my old friend Augustus Pugin (see Bolton Priory, Yorkshire, Cotton Church, Staffordshire and Killarney Cathedral in Ireland).

The Hub or Tolbooth Church, Edinburgh

The Church of Scotland relocated its assembly in 1929 and for fifty years the still unconsecrated building was used exclusively for worship. In moth balls from 1979-99 it was then repurposed as a performance space and offices for the Edinburgh International Festival and renamed ‘The Hub’.

Deacon Brodie

William Brodie, born 1741, was a cabinet maker and locksmith and, from 1781, Deacon of Wrights and Masons, making him a respectable and affluent tradesman and a member of the town council. Wisely, he hid his gambling habit and five children by two mistresses (each unaware of the other) from genteel society. To fund this life-style, he employed his considerable knowledge of the locks of upper-class Edinburgh to facilitate a second career as a housebreaker.

Disturbed during a burglary in 1788 and fearing his accomplices would talk, he fled to London and then the Netherlands. He was arrested in Amsterdam, returned to Edinburgh, tried and executed outside the Tolbooth in front of a crowd of 40,000. His long-demolished house was near the pub which now bears his name.

The Deacon Brodie, Lawnmarket

Robert Louis Stevenson’s play Deacon Brodie, or The Double Life, was unsuccessful, but he returned to the theme later, publishing the better-known Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in 1886.

Kirk, Tolbooth and Mercat Cross

A burgh (an autonomous municipal corporation) traditionally had three essential features, a Kirk, a Tolbooth and a Mercat (Market) Cross.

St Giles’ Cathedral in High Street will do nicely as the kirk. Built in the 14th century and restored and extended over the years, it held cathedral status in the 17th century. Since 1689 the Church of Scotland has been Presbyterian and as such has no bishops and, therefore, no cathedrals so it is now an ‘honorary’ cathedral.

St Giles' Cathedral, Edinburgh (with the Duke of Buccleuch, left)

We missed the Mercat Cross but it is just off High Street beside St Giles.

The Tolbooth was a council meeting chamber, a court house and jail. 90 tolbooths survive in Scotland, some fulfilling parts of their original functions, but not Edinburgh’s. The medieval tolbooth, next to St Giles, was demolished in 1817 and the site is marked by a Heart of Midlothian decoration in the cobbles, but we missed that, too. The statue of the 5th Duke of Buccleuch (generally regarded as rather larger than his contribution to Edinburgh) would have been standing inside the tolbooth had it been erected 90 years earlier.

Street Performance – That Funny Dan

Further along, High Street narrows and becomes pedestrian again. Here we encountered a street performer, a Canadian juggler with an approach to his act and audience which made us chuckle appreciatively (Oh, I do like a chuckle!). Helped onto a board balanced on a cylinder by two co-opted audience members…

That Funny Dan sets up

…he proved himself a moderate acrobat, a competent juggler (a hope the axe and knives were not as sharp as they looked) and an accomplished comedian.

That Funny Dan...juggles and balances!

It must be a precarious living (literally and metaphorically) and maybe he hopes it will lead to a career which allows him to work indoors - or perhaps he is financing a PhD at Edinburgh University. His audience was appreciative and I trust they paid well. He accepted cash gratefully, but it was the second time this week we encountered a fixed price contactless terminal, in this case attached to his phone. One tap £5, and my card provider informs he is currently using the name ‘That Funny Dan’. We wish him well.

John Knox House

Just before High Street turns itself into Cannongate is a building known as ‘John Knox House’, now home to the Scottish Storytelling Centre. The house was built in 1495 and John Knox (1514-72) lived in this area in the 1560s, but despite its name, there is no hard evidence Knox ever lived there.

John Knox House, High Street, Edinburgh

In England, the Reformation was all about Henry VIII and his desire for an heir. We lose sight of the great intellectual movement that swept across northern Europe after Martin Luther set the ball rolling in 1517. Like Luther, Knox was originally a Catholic priest, like Luther he saw the corruption in the contemporary Catholic church and his Protestantism grew from intellectual foundations. He was, maybe, a difficult and dogmatic man, but he is regarded as the father of the Scottish Reformation and the Scottish Presbyterian Church.

Cannongate and Holyrood

In the final stretch, we walked past the Cannongate Tolbooth without realising it. Around 1143 David I, authorised Holyrood Abbey to found a burgh between the Abbey and Edinburgh. The burgh of Canongate was controlled by the Abbey until the Scottish Reformation and although it is only a short walk from the castle, it was not fully incorporated into Edinburgh, until 1856.

The devolved Scottish Parliament was created in 1999 and required a new Parliament building. Situated at the end of Cannongate and usually known as ‘Holyrood’, it  was opened by the Queen in 2004. Reading about the design concept, it sounds impressive, looking at it, it is plain ugly.

Scottish Parliament, corner of Horse Wynd and Cannongate

The public entrance, above, is in Horse Wynd round the corner from Cannongate, but the building sprawls and there are outbreaks on Cannongate itself; it is not easy to see how the architecture here relates to other parts of the building.

Part of the Scottish Parliament, Cannongate

A grand concept, viewed piecemeal becomes a dog’s breakfast and this may challenge the Lithuanian Parliament in Vilnius for World’s Ugliest Parliament Building.

Across Horse Wynd is Holyrood Palace, Scotland’s principal royal residence since the 16th century. The Queen spends a week here at the beginning of the summer to carry out official engagements before moving north to her summer residence at Balmoral. The ruins of Holyrood Abbey are in the parkland behind the palace.

Holyrood Palace

As we had walked down the Royal Mile, the sky had steadily cleared and temperature risen. We sat in the sunshine on a bench outside the Palace and considered our route back

Grassmarket

We walked part way back up the Royal Mile, took a left down to Cowgate and followed Cowgate to the Grassmarket. Yesterday in the drizzle, the place looked miserable …

The Grassmarket, Edinburgh

… but today the outdoor seating had filled up with customers basking in the sunshine and the urge to join them became overwhelming.

Innis & Gunn IPA in the Grassmarket

In low ground near the foot of castle rock, Grassmarket was first mentioned in 1363 and by the 15th century was Edinburgh's main livestock market. There was never any grass in this boggy hollow the name deriving either from grazing strewn in pens or from a corruption/anglicisation of Grice Mercat (pig market).

From the 17th century The Grassmarket was Edinburgh’s place of execution and over 100 Covenanters were hanged here between 1661 and 1688.

Among other executions was that of Margaret (Maggie) Dickson. After her husband was press-ganged into the Royal Navy she obtained work at an inn in the Borders where she had an illegitimate child. Accused of drowning the baby she was tried and sentenced to death. After being hanged in the Grassmarket in August 1724 a doctor declared her dead. Her family prevented medical students from taking the corpse for dissection and carried her body away on a cart. Stopping at an inn for a wake, they heard noises from the coffin and found her still alive. Her punishment had been carried out, her "resurrection" was seen as divine intervention, and she was allowed to go free. She remarried her original husband (as her 'death' had parted them) and lived another 40 years. "Half-hangit Maggie" become a local curiosity, and still is as she now owns the established that was supplying our beer. More than one sentence in the above paragraph may not be factually true.

We were drinking at Maggie Dickson's

The market was always a place of taverns, hostelries and cheap lodgings. The Irish Potato Famine (1845-52) brought an influx of immigrants and many gravitated toward the Grassmarket. Before long vast numbers of people were living in over-crowded and insanitary conditions.

The Grassmarket became a slum and remained so until the 1970s. Gradually improvements allowed the area to lose its association with poverty and homelessness. The Salvation Army closed their two hostels – what they make of the backpacker hostels they became is another matter - and since 2000 there has been serious gentrification.

One of the Salvation Army's former hostels, Grassmarket

Some of Grassmarket’s problems have been solved, others displaced. In Edinburgh it is not difficult to find groups of older men sitting around drinking themselves into a stupor in mid-afternoon. Scotland’s other drug problems are well documented, if less visible to the casual visitor.

Euro Semi-Finals

In the evening we again resorted to the hotel bar which was as packed for the England v Denmark semi-final as Covid would allow. I thought it might be interesting to watch England in a Scottish bar, but judging by their reactions, the clientele here was largely English. England were lucky to win, we expect to be in Lanark for Sunday’s final.

08/07/2021

South Queensferry - Leaving Edinburgh by Bridge

Sth Queensferry
At Edinburgh the Firth of Forth is almost 10km wide so those wishing to journey north traditionally headed for a point 12km to the east where the firth, briefly, narrows. In the 11th century, Queen Margaret, consort of Malcolm III, established a ferry here to transport travellers the 2km to the opposite bank. The settlements at either end became known as South and North Queensferry. On Thursday morning we stopped at the South Queensferry viewpoint - still just within the Edinburgh Council District - to inspect the more modern Forth crossings before making the crossing ourselves.

The Forth Bridge

When technology advanced enough to bridge the Firth of Forth, the builders unsurprisingly chose the same narrow point. Construction of the Forth Bridge began in 1882 and it was opened in 1890 by the future Edward VII, The bridge has carried the Edinburgh–Aberdeen railway line across the Forth ever since.

When built it had the longest single cantilever span in the world (521m) and has since been surpassed only by the Quebec Bridge in Canada, completed in 1919.

The Forth Bridge

Designed by Sir John Fowler and Sir Benjamin Baker, it regularly attracts the increasingly meaningless adjective ‘iconic’ and 'painting the Forth Bridge' has entered the language as a metaphor for an a never ending task. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, I find it an odd structure that transcends its essentially ugliness to became strangely beautiful.

The Forth Road Bridge

For rail users the problem was solved but everyone else was still using Queen Margaret’s Ferry. In the 1950s the ferries were making 40,000 crossings annually, carrying 1.5 million passengers and 800,000 vehicles, The need for a road bridge was obvious.

Work started in 1958 and the bridge was opened by the Queen in 1964. 2.5Km in length with a maximum span of 1006m it was at the time the longest suspension bridge in Europe.

The Forth Road Bridge

The bridge, though was a victim of its own success. Designed to carry 30,000 vehicles a day it was, by the early 2000s often working at double capacity. In 2004 corrosion was found in the cables – a problem that had earlier been found in American bridges of the same design.

The case for a second road bridge became compelling. In the last ten years the bridge has undergone some expensive refurbishments and a series of partial closures. Since reopening in 2018, it has been designated a Public Transport Corridor, with access restricted buses and taxis.

The Queensferry Crossing

Construction of the second road bridge, known as the Queensferry Crossing, started in 2011 and it was opened by the Queen in 2017, 53 years to the day after she opened the Forth Road Bridge. It carries the M90 motorway across the water starting very near the earlier road bridge but taking a more north-westerly route across the water, making it difficult to photograph from the South Queensferry viewpoint. It can be seen behind the Forth Road Bridge on the picture above.

A three towered cable-stayed bridge, it provides an interesting contrast with the earlier cantilever and suspension bridges. The Romans reputedly lashed 900 boats together to create a floating bridge here – it is a shame (though hardly surprising) that nobody ever tried an arched bridge to complete the set.

We left the viewpoint, found our way to the M90 and the Queensferry Crossing and on to Perth and thence further north on the largely two-lane A9.

The Queensferry Crossing


Tuesday, 6 July 2021

Edinburgh (1), The Castle and National Museum: Scotland '21 Part 1

Not to Mention Greyfriars' Kirkyard, A Long Dead Dog and the Elephant House Café

05-July-2021

First steps in Edinburgh: Parking and Dining

Scotland
Edinburgh

Edinburgh is 250 miles from Swynnerton, a long but relatively easy journey once beyond Manchester where the M6 becomes less crowded.

We checked in to our hotel but there was no room in the inn for our car. The receptionist directed us to a cavernous NCP car park nearby where overnight packing was a snip at £35.

Walking back to the hotel, the view of Edinburgh castle reminded us of how well the hotel was situated - and if you want to stay in the centre of a crowded city, you have to suffer the parking costs.

The roof of the car park - and Edinburgh Castle

Once settled in Scotland we set off for Italy, or at least the facsimile generated by the Italian staff at Piccolino, a restaurant which, in the spirit of Covid, we had booked the previous week.

The three Piccolino restaurants in Scotland are related, but their websites differ markedly from those of the larger English Piccolino chain. The food was excellent, the pasta freshly made, the flavours authentically Italian. A curious ingredient called Evoo, appeared in many dishes but I detected nothing unexpected in my flavourful Orecchiette Salsiccia & Friarelli. I looked it up later: Evoo, I discovered, is Extra Virgin Olive Oil, hardly unexpected, but I have never before seen it listed as an ‘ingredient’.

The smallish portions allowed us to try the desserts. The Tiramisu was as expected, the Canollo Siciliano, a Sicilian biscuit cone, filled with sweet ricotta cheese and chocolate chip, was a more interesting blend of flavours and textures. Grappa did not appear on the menu, but our hopeful request produced a slug of rustic liquor which did the job nicely.

Tiramasu, Piccolino, Edinurgh

06-July-2021

Edinburgh Castle

In the morning, like any Edinburgh newbies we set off, timed ticket in hand (Covid kills spontaneity), to see the castle.

Edinburgh Castle and Castle Rock from the Grassmarket

We walked down to the Grassmarket and ascended Castle Wynd, a passage involving three substantial flights of stairs.

The formidable Castle Rock has been occupied since the Iron Age. A royal castle was built in the reign of David I (1124-53) and it remained the king's residence until 1633. Since then, it has principally been a barracks. The once large garrison is now much smaller and its duties purely ceremonial.

The entrance from the top of Castle Wynd is across flatter ground.

Approaching the gatehouse, Edinburgh Castle

The castle has seen conflict, notably in the 14th century Wars of Independence and 1745 Jacobite rising. Recent research has identified a remarkable 26 sieges in the last 1,100-years. Few were successful.

Working our way up and round we passed through the Portcullis Gate…

Portcullis gate, Edinburgh Castle

…and paused to admire the rather misty view of Calton Hill. To the left is the new W Hotel, although not yet open it has proved controversial and been dubbed ‘The Golden Turd’. How this was ever designed, let alone approved is beyond me.

Calton Hill from Edinburgh Castle

The homely Governor’s House emphasised how unlike a medieval castle this is.

The Governor's House, Edinburgh Castle

In 1567 the catholic Mary, Queen of Scots, was forced to abdicate by the protestant nobility who installed a regent for her infant son James VI (later James I and VI of England and Scotland). Mary escaped to England leaving behind an intermittent civil war. By 1571 only Edinburgh Castle remained for Mary.

The resulting stand-off - the ‘Lang Siege’ - lasted two years. Fearing the defenders would receive help from France the King's party appealed to Elizabeth I of England for assistance. In April 1573 1,000 English troops arrived with 27 cannons. That is why few of the castle’s buildings predate 1573.

Crown Square

Through Foog’s Gate…

Foog's Gate, Edinburgh Castle

…we entered Crown Square. The three doors off the square were set up to control socially distanced queues, but we were almost on our own, tourist pioneers in the (I hope) declining days of Covid.

Crown Square, Edinburgh Castle

One door was to the Scottish National War Memorial. No photos allow, but it contains many very similar neo-classical memorials to different regiments and campaigns.

Behind the middle door are the Scottish Crown Jewels. Locked away in a chest after the Act of Union in 1707 they were rediscovered in 1818. The crown (made 1540) is fairly plain (as crowns go) and since 1818 has been worn only by George IV (in 1822) and the current queen. The sceptre and sword were gifts to James IV from the Pope.

Scottish monarchs were crowned on the Stone of Scone until it was stolen by Edward I in 1296 and placed in Westminster Abbey, thereafter all English and subsequently British monarchs were crowned on it. In 1996 it was returned to Edinburgh and now sits among the crown jewels. It is, in reality, an undistinguished slab of stone and if, as some claim, it is not the ‘original’ how could anyone know.

The third door opens onto the Great Hall. Probably completed in the early 16th century. It has a display of arms, …

Great Hall, Edinburgh Castle

… one of only two surviving hammer-beam roofs in Scotland….

The hammer-beam roof, Great Hall, Edinburgh Castle

…and a painting of Sergeant Charles Ewart of the Royal North British Dragoons capturing the eagle of Napoleon’s 45th Regiment at Waterloo.

Sgt Charles Ewart in action

The nearby Half Moon battery was part of the reconstruction after 1573. It seems one cannon is trained on the Golden Turd. Sadly, I did not know how to fire it.

I would pull the trigger, if it had one

St Margaret’s chapel is one of the castle’s few genuinely old survivors. It was built around 1130 and named for the saintly Margaret of Wessex, an English princess and the Queen Consort of Malcolm III.

Inside St Margaret's Chapel

All that remained to be seen in the castle was a huge cannon of Belgian origin known as Mons Meg…

Mons Meg

…and the re-created quarters of the prisoners of war, mainly French sailors from the Seven Years War and Americans from the War of Independence. The youngest prisoner was a 5-year-old-drummer boy captured at Trafalgar. They were kept in the vaults below Crown Square. Pirates were also accommodated, but unlike the prisoners of war they usually ended up on the gallows. The reconstructions are probably faithful, but they are undoubtedly far more fragrant than the originals.

Reconstructed prisoner of war quarters, Edinburgh Castle

Ensign Charles Ewart, the hero of Waterloo (he was given a commission before her retired) died aged 77 in 1846 in Salford. His grave was paved over and lost but rediscovered in the 1930s when he was reburied by the castle esplanade.

The grave of Charles Ewart

The Grassmarket: A Brief Introduction

We returned to The Grassmarket for a bite of lunch. The Grassmarket will feature in the next post, here I will merely say that it has a chequered past, but is now a quarter of bars and restaurants.

The Grassmarket, Edinburgh

The sky was heavy, with occasional bouts of drizzle so we took shelter in Maggie Dickson’s. They brought us falafel, haloumi fries and Gunn and Innis IPA with commendable alacrity – well, they had no other customers to look after.

The Grassmarket from inside Maggie Dickson's

Afterwards, as we headed towards the National Museum, I looked at the dark, threatening sky and the dark stone buildings flecked with drizzle and wondered for a moment if I had ever seen a more depressing city. Then I turned to look at the street on my left. West Bow, lined with 19th century buildings, rises and turns, inviting you to walk up it. It could only be in Edinburgh and even in the rain it was an inviting prospect.

West Bow, Edinburgh

Greyfriars Kirkyard

But we resisted and crossed the road to Greyfriars Kirkyard.

A group of Dutch Franciscan Friars (Greyfriars) were granted land just outside the burgh in the mid-15th century. After the Scottish Reformation, the Friary’s redundant grounds became a cemetery and Greyfriars Kirk was constructed at the top end of the cemetery between 1602 and 1620.

At the bottom of the sloping graveyard, we stepped over gravel washed down by floods two days earlier.

Wikipedia’s list of notables buried here is long, but few names ring many bells. An exception, at least for a retired maths teacher, is Colin MacLaurin (1698 – 1746) whose eponymous theorem remains embedded in A level Mathematics.

JK Rowling and Greyfriars Kirkyard

Harry Potter was born (in a literary sense) on a train between Manchester and London, but he was brought up in JK Rowling’s adopted home city of Edinburgh. The author borrowed several names from Greyfriars Kirkyard; Lord Voldemort’s real name was Tom Riddle and directions to the grave of Thomas Riddell (sic) are widely available. The original was a man of decent obscurity and probably not the personification of evil.

The Grave of Thomas Riddell - not really Voldemort - on the Flodden Wall

Riddell’s memorial is attached to the Flodden Wall, which cuts the graveyard in half. It was built after James IV’s disastrous incursion into England in 1513. He died, with much of the Scottish nobility, at the Battle of Flodden in Northumberland and the wall was an added protection against an expected retaliatory invasion (which never happened).

Professor Minerva McGonagall shares her name from one of the few graveyard residents I have heard of. William McGonagall won renown as Scotland’s worst ever poet…

William McGonagall, Greyfriar's Kirkyard

written 1880, The Tay Bridge Disaster begins

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember’d for a very long time

Enough!

Greyfriars Bobby

The best-known resident of the graveyard is not human, Greyfriars Bobby was a Skye Terrier. After his owner died in 1858 the dog kept a vigil at his graveside until his own death 14 years later. This demonstrates the heart-warming loyalty of man’s best friend - or is perhaps an example of dogs’ pathetic neediness, a self-respecting cat would have raised its tail and stalked away.

The grave of Greyfriars Bobby

The story was, of course, good publicity, but was it true? Some account for Bobby’s longevity by claiming the original Bobby died and was replaced by an identical Skye Terrier. In Greyfriars Bobby, the Most Faithful Dog in the World Jan Bonderson points out that the story is far from unique and there are 60 documented cases of graveyard dogs in 19th century Europe. He suggests they were fed by visitors (and those promoting the story) and so made the graveyards their home. I am a sceptic, not a cynic, and Bonderson’s account makes sense to me.

The graveyard map states there is a statue of 'Bobby' nearby, but we could not find it.

Greyfriars Kirk

The exterior of the kirk, a Church of Scotland Parish church, is not particularly remarkable - my lame excuse for lacking a photograph.

But here is Greyfriars after the 1845 fire (Public Domain)

The Scottish National Covenant was signed here in 1638. It aimed to promote the Presbyterian Church, and establish the primacy of its leaders in Scottish religious affairs.The political consequences were long and complicated, involving Scotland in what, south of the border, is parochially know as the English Civil War. After periods of persecution the Covenanters achieved their aims only after the ‘Glorious Revolution’ of 1688 brought William and Mary to the English and Scottish thrones.

The Presbyterian Church remains the established Church of Scotland., though the 2019 Scottish Household Survey, reported the proportion of adults not belonging to any religion to be 56%.

The interior is plain, the seating set out to accommodate Covid social-distancing.

Inside Greyfriars kirk

A fire in 1845 damaged the structure and gutted the interior. The minister, Robert Lee, used the opportunity to loosen up dour Presbyterianism and the restored church boasted the first stained glass in a Scottish church since the reformation.

Stained glass, Greyfriars Church

He also installed a harmonium and so re-introduced music into services. Greyfriars' organ has been upgraded many times since, the current rather splendid beast was built by Peter Collins of Melton Mowbray in 1989. Not being musical, I judge church organs on their looks, and this is a good ‘un.

The organ, Greyfriars Kirk

The Scottish National Museum

The National Museum is a short step from Greyfriars in Chambers Street - a capital city sort of street.

Chambers Street, Edinburgh

Like any well funded national museum there is much to see, and much to walk past because no one can see everything. The exhibits are well chosen to trace the history and development of Scotland and even look into the future.

Below are three exhibits that took my fancy.

The Lewis Chessmen

A group of 78 12th century chessmen were found on Lewis in 1831. Carved from walrus ivory and probably made in Trondheim there is not a complete set among them, but the quality of the craftsmanship and the contemplative nature of chess fit uneasily with our view of  their wild and violent times. Most of the chessmen are in the British Museum, only 11 are in Scotland, which feels wrong to me.

The Lewis Chessmen, National Museum of Scotland

The Claymore

Wild, violent men of later generations favoured the Claymore. Although two-handed swords were by no means unique to Scotland, the claymore is a design peculiar to the Highlands. This example is early 16th century, the hilt made in Scotland, the blade imported from Germany.

16th century Claymore, National Museum of Scotland

The Galloway Hoard

Buried around 900 CE and discovered by a metal detectorist in 2014 this is the Viking equivalent of the Saxon Staffordshire Hoard discovered a few years earlier. The Galloway Hoard contain far less gold, but many more intact articles. Some of them were in a fabric covered pot whose origins were somewhere round the Caspian Sea.

A cross with a silver 'rope' from the Galloway Hoard

Fun with Google Maps, The Greyfriars' Bobby Statue and The Elephant House Café

Leaving the museum, we searched again for the Greyfriars Bobby statue. After an abortive stroll up and down George IV Bridge Road, Lynne produced her phone and appealed to Google maps. It wanted to send us back where we had been.

Believing, a least for a moment, in the all-knowing power of technology we stepped forward uncertainly before suddenly realising we had walked past it twice. The small statue had been hiding behind an ever-changing knot of people gathered at a corner. The work of William Brodie, it was originally a drinking fountain (humans above, dogs below) and has stood here since 1873. Bobby's highly polished nose proves how irresistible it has been to many thousands of hands.

Greyfriars Bobby, corner of Candlemaker Row and George IV Bridge Road

Further technological shenanigans attended our visit to the Elephant House Café, scarcely more than 50m away. We walked down Candlemaker Row, turned into Merchant Street and found a blank wall where the map said the café should be. After exchanging quizzical (and mildly irritated) glances a metaphorical scratch of the head provided the solution. The map was 2D, but Edinburgh is a 3D city. The Elephant House was several metres above us, on the George IV Bridge which crosses Merchant Street at that very point. Perhaps we should have checked the address as well as the map.

Rain was beginning to spatter as we arrived, but we were in quickly - Covid restrictions required customers to hover in the doorway until shown to a table. The small horde of rain-avoiders close on our heels were less fortunate and many were turned away.

So why visit this cafe, was it just for the chocolate sprinkle elephant atop our cappuccinos? Every true Harry Potter fan (our grandson, if not us) knows that much of the first two books was written in the back room of the Elephant Café. Covid restrictions meant we could not wander at will, so the back room with its view of Edinburgh Castle remained unseen - but as least we are out of the rain.

The Elephant House Café. Is this the diet that created Harry Potter?

JK Rowling is not the cafe's only literary connection. Alexander McCall Smith also visits occasionally as does Ian Rankin. I can imagine Precious Ramotswe dropping in for a beverage should she ever come to visit her creator, but I doubt Inspector Rebus would tolerate such gentility.

There is a limit to how long a cappuccino and slice of carrot cake allows you to occupy a café table - eventually we had to make our way out into the rain.

Leaving the Elephant House in the rain

An Edinburgh Soaking

During the 15-minute walk from the café through Greyfriars Kirkyard and the Grassmarket to our hotel the rain became steadily heavier. My ‘showerproof’ jacket (in a fit of optimism it was the only rainwear I had brought) proved totally inadequate. Lynne was wet, I was soaked to the skin long before we arrived. The illogical remedy is to remove wet clothing, step in the shower and get properly wet.

Reluctant to venture out again on such a night, we settled for the hotel bar. The limited menu provided something reasonably palatable, the house white was cheap if regrettable, but they had a long list of malts, so we checked out a couple. We also watched the first Euros semi-final. It will be interesting watching England’s semi tomorrow in a Scottish bar, but surely, we had just seen the two best teams in the competition