A windy walk in the Pentlands

Having several weeks to wait until completion on the house we are buying happens means we have some time to spend exploring our local area. This has been limited by some very heavy rains but Saturday’s overnight heavy rain had ceased but it remained very windy. We had arranged to meet up with some friends for a dog walk because new pandemic rules meant that we could not meet up with them and another couple for a meal that had been planned for the following week. The Pentland Hills Regional Park is outside Edinburgh but the part we visited is only six miles from the city centre on the north slopes of the hills. There are access points from other places and a visitors centre at Flotterstone on the A702. Clubbiedean and Torduff reservoirs are close to Bonaly and south of the city bypass. They were constructed in 1850 and are managed by Scottish Water who have some works ongoing nearby. After parking, we walked up the path to the first reservoir; Tarduff.

As it was a weekend, the track was fairly busy with walkers and cyclists. At this time of year, it is also good place for foraging with blackberries, rowan and hawthorn berries and rosehips to be found by the side of the path. Wild camping is permitted and I spotted one tent on the other side of the water. The regional park is large and there are many other paths around it, including loops around each of these reservoirs.

Clubbiedean reservoir lies above Torduff; they are two of several in the park and the surrounding hills have views over the city, the River Forth and over to Fife. There are the remains of an ancient fort consisting of a ditch, stony bank and stone wall on the other side of the water from the track we were on. Fishing licences can be obtained and a number of people were fishing when we visited. There is a café next to Clubbiedean run by a relative of our friends which was a great place to stop before returning back to the city.

An emotional journey

My first visit to Scotland was when I was six weeks old; with my parents on their motorcycle and sidecar. Other relatives were there earlier. Here is my grandfather having a break at Shap on his way north in 1952.

In the late 1960s, my father left Rolls Royce and got the job as Chief Engineer with Alexanders Coach Builders in Falkirk. I had done just over a year at my first primary school and attended two others in Scotland and two high schools because we moved to Dunblane in 1975. We had spent many family holidays camping on the west coast near Oban. After five years at Aberdeen University and house jobs in Inverness and Fort William; I met my husband during my surgical house job in Stirling. My psychiatric training began the following year in Edinburgh and James started his general practice training. It was our intention to stay in Scotland but although it might be hard to believe now when there is a shortage of GPs; in 1989 over 100 people were applying for GP jobs in Lothian. Eventually, one of the consultants he had worked for said that her friend was looking for a new GP partner in South Cheshire. So, in early 1990 with two cats and myself 24 weeks pregnant with our son, we drove south to a building which would be our home and the GP surgery for four years. In 1994 I had worked as a research assistant and been appointed as a Lecturer at Keele University. The practice needed to expand and we could now afford to look for our own place. In August moved into Bank House Farm.

26 years and two days later, we sold up and moved out, returning to Scotland which we had been planning for some time. Our neighbours and church gave us a wonderful farewell and we set out; James driving the campervan and myself the car. The heavy rains and flooding meant that on the motorway between junctions 18 and 19, four lanes were reduced to two. I found myself in very slow-moving traffic sandwiched between a Porsche and a Jaguar. Otherwise the journey was uneventful and we installed ourselves in the Edinburgh flat. A few days later we viewed a house in North Berwick and put in an offer which was accepted. I had not expected that to happen quite so soon but the completion date was a few weeks further on to allow the sellers to pack up and find somewhere to rent. We have some time to kill in between a couple of commitments in the meantime. Fortunately, things are starting to open up a little after lockdown. I had spotted a Cubism exhibition at the Scottish National Gallery of Modern Art so booked tickets and walked down there a few days ago. We were a little early so sat in the grounds.

There was an interesting illuminated message over the front of the building.

I am not so sure that we can be quite so optimistic at present.

The small exhibition had works by familiar artists such as Picasso and Braque but also many by less familiar names.

I am hoping to have more time to devote to art and abstract art in particular now that I do not have ¾ acre to look after.

Yesterday we decided to spend some time looking around North Berwick as the weather looked more promising. We were there early enough to get parked down on the sea front.

We wandered along the High Street, had a coffee and then on further east along the shore.

North Berwick Glen has a footpath taking you uphill from the east beach to near where our new home is. The Glen contains several ruins.

The oldest are of the Mills of Kenteath which are thought to date from the 1300s. They were used to grind grain until the 1840s. The Waulk Mill was built in 1738 at the bottom of the glen to provide fabric for the local weavers. It was replaced by a washhouse which also later became a ruin. There are numerous other interesting places to explore in the local area, some which I have not been to for a long time; others I have never visited.

The Water of Leith

The Water of Leith runs for 24 miles from its source in the Pentland Hills to the Port of Leith where it joins the River Forth. Historically it supported more than 70 mills producing flour, fabric and paper. Construction of the Water of Leith Walkway began in the 1970s and it officially opened in 1981. Over the years we have walked various sections; the last in 2017. We have never done the whole 12 miles from Balerno to Leith in one go but are now members of the Water of Leith Conservation Trust. Our most recent wander followed an afternoon which we spent walking around the Hermitage of Braid and Blackford Hill with some friends, clocking up 4.1 miles. The next morning walking down to Leith, the city centre was eerily quiet and it was relatively easy to keep a safe distance from others. The replacement building for the old St James shopping centre has progressed and the extension of the tramline to Newhaven is underway. On reaching The Shore, we had our first coffee inside a café since pre-lockdown in March. Afterwards, we took a quick look at the port which was filled up with static merchant and cruise ships going nowhere.

I read somewhere that six cruise ships are moored up at Leith. We certainly spotted a P&O ship and then began the walk. Buddleias line a lot of the pathway here

and also, the problematic introduce plant Himalayan Balsam which I photographed in 2017.

The Conservation Trust had a removal project in 2013 but it is incredibly difficult to eradicate completely because it shoots its seeds far away and additionally, they travel downstream on the water. Following the decline of industry along the river, wildlife has prospered. Today we saw gulls, mute swans and a grey heron but you could be lucky and spot a kingfisher.

Fish have returned to the river and otters have also been observed. There are several examples of street art along the path.

The walkway is closed in a few places. We had a diversion due to repairs underway on the Newhaven Road South Bridge which had become dangerous. Signposting of the diversion was not great but I managed to navigate us to rejoin the riverside walk. Near the Dean Path, there has been a landslip and other problems at other sites. After passing through Canonmills, we left the path near Stockbridge and found a seat to have our picnic lunch on. It was then time to return to the flat so we continued through Stockbridge, Hanover Street and tried to avoid the busier West End of Princes Street. Up Lothian Road and then along quieter Brougham Terrace to Bruntsfield Links, where I was very happy to see that sections had been left un-mowed and were filled with wildflowers for the pollinators. We managed to get back to the flat before a heavy rainfall mid-afternoon, having walked 10.3 miles. I am sure we will return to do another section or attempt the full length at some point.

Abandoned Places

 Abandoned places have always intrigued me. I wonder about the story behind them and the people who lived or worked there. A recent article in The Guardian by David Bramwell described the ghost towns in Britain as mostly having been abandoned after the Black Death in the 14th century. The worst affected areas were Norfolk and Suffolk where the plague-infested ships landed. There is little left of many of them. Some were requisitioned by the military for use at the outset of World War 2 and practices for the D-Day landings. In East Anglia and other parts of the East coast, erosion is also a major problem due to rising sea levels. In late May this year, people in homes on the Isle of Sheppey in Kent were evacuated. As I write, one home has fallen from the cliffs and others are threatened. On our journey around the British coast we visited Rattray in Aberdeenshire which was abandoned in the 18th century when shifting sands blocked the harbour and covered the buildings.

Growing up in Scotland, the Highland Clearances which took place mostly in the 18th and 29th centuries are never very far away and the ruins of old crofts are found in many places. When we visited Sutherland in 2015, I learnt that people farming in the glens were removed to the coast near Bettyhill. Unfortunately, they did not know how to fish or possess any boats. We stayed for a week in a cottage near Skerray Harbour. From the harbour, Eilean nan Ron – the Isle of the Seals is visible, with ruined houses on it.

Between 1820 and 1938, this was home to several hardy families. They were forced to leave as the population was reducing in numbers (some having emigrated to North America or Australia) and getting older; making it hard navigate the 90 steps up the steep cliff from the harbour to the homes. They tried to settle nearby and were given £100 by the Duchess of Sutherland. In 2018 we visited the St Kilda archipelago which lies 40 miles beyond the Outer Hebrides.  Having been inhabited for 4,000 years, it was abandoned in 1930. It now has a military and a radar base and a few National Trust for Scotland employees are there for part of each year as well as a flock of Soay Sheep.

On our trips overseas we have also found derelict and abandoned places. Route 66 passes several towns left behind when the interstates were built.

The Meramec Bridge in Missouri carried Route 66 after its completion in 1932. Resorts arrived and working-class resort called Times Beach opened nearby in 1925. It was home to almost 2,000 people. In the late 1960s Interstate 44 arrived and bypassed this and many other communities. Times Beach was evacuated in 1983 because of dioxin contamination resulting from contaminated fuel being used to deal with a dust problem in the streets and to deter birds from crops since the 1970s.

In 2011 we travelled on the Indian Pacific train from Perth to Sydney. The route crosses the Nullarbor and is the longest straight stretch of railway in the world at 478km. We made a stop at Cook in South Australia, a town created in 1917 when the railway commenced. It depended on trains for food supplies and now all their water as well. When we visited, we were told that the population was two people and one dog. It became a ghost town in 1997. The eucalyptus trees were planted in 1982 and do provide some shade. We had a couple of hours to wander around before getting back on the train.

Somewhere to visit on a future trip to the South West USA is Cerro Gordo, an abandoned silver-mining town which was purchased in 2018 by a guy who wants to restore it. It is about 200 miles from Los Angeles. In the 19th century around 4,000 miners lived there. It was renowned for gun fights and there is even a rumour that Butch Cassidy was there once. The town was abandoned in the 1930s and the 22 buildings were just left. The guy who now owns it plans to restore it and provide accommodation for visitors.

A trip to South Africa 36 years ago

In my final year of medical school we were given a two month period to carry out an elective project of your choice. I spent January and February 1984 in South Africa. I took my first long haul flight there to work at Mseleni Hospital in northern Kwa Zulu; only 60km from the Mozambique border. South Arica was still in the midst of apartheid then, so the medical staff were all missionaries and it was run by the African Evangelical Fellowship. It is now government-run. While I was a student, I had spent my holidays working at a local restaurant. The owner was a member of the local Rotary Club, so they gave me a donation to cover the cost of my flights and I was to give a lecture to them on my return. The hospital provided accommodation and food. A friend lent me his Pentax Spotmatic and I took slides for the lecture. It is only recently while in lockdown and packing up to move house that I found them again and scanned them. The Aberdeen flight shop had recommended Air Portugal to me. I flew from Heathrow to Lisbon. Unfortunately, the connecting flight was delayed so I had a night in Lisbon but only saw a hotel and the airport.

The following day after a refuelling stop in Brazzaville, I arrived in Durban. From there, a Mission Aviation Fellowship plane took me to Mseleni. They also provided transport to distant clinics and took seriously ill people down to the hospital in Durban.

I learned a lot at the hospital helping out with operations, ward reviews and several outlying clinics that we served.

Most of the local Zulus were too poor to own cattle and most of their diet consisted of mealies (corn) and vegetables with a few eggs. The children commonly suffered from Kwashiorkor. We had a unit for their treatment.

A New Zealand scientist was working on a way of increasing protein in the diet. He had tried bringing in guinea pigs from South America but they all died from a virus. He was then trying more successfully with goats. Hence, I added milking goats to my list of skills.

My project was focussed on exploring the reasons for non-compliance with tuberculosis treatment which was an issue in the area. In addition to clinics at places including Mabibi and Mbazwana Forest, I also visited some of the kraals in the area with the community health worker. I had learnt a little Zulu (I still have the phrasebook found in Foyles) but he acted as interpreter.

The hospital was close to Lake Sibhayi which was a pleasant walk to when we had some time off.  You can take a boat on it but hippos are dangerous and could attack it. I often watched the sunset down there and on one occasion acquired a tick bite which gave me tick bit fever which was treated with a tetracycline.

Towards the end of January, two cyclones: Domoima and Imboa crossed the Mozambique channel and travelled inland. The area had the most rain it had had for at least 100 years and there was extensive flooding

The hospital was on a hill with a spring for water, so we were OK although the air strip was out of action and many of the local roads were blocked. The nearby Pongolapoort Dam was at risk of overflowing or breaking so they had to open the flood gates.

We had to treat one man who had been struck by lightning and there were reports of Zulus having climbed up trees to escape the floods but not wanting to go into the rescue helicopters because they had never seen them before. The waters eventually receded and at the end of my time I flew down to Cape Town to visit some South African friends before heading home. It was my first visit to the city, so I took the cable car up Table Mountain for the fantastic views

My friends took me to Fishoek

And the Cape Peninsula

Where baboons regularly attacked cars.

All too soon it was time to return home, write my report, get back to my studies and give a talk to the Rotary Club.

 

 

Wanderlust in lockdown

 

We are now several weeks into lockdown and wanderlust has to be contained. Spending so much time at home is vaguely reminiscent of writing my thesis and books several years ago. We are fortunate to have a large garden and live in a rural area so do have some space. I really feel for people living in cramped accommodation and no outside space.  After weeks of rain and flooding in February; warm sunny weather arrived and the garden is now slowly drying up. There is a lot to do out there and the spring flowers are a joy.

Our house was put on the market two weeks before lockdown and we had a few viewings but all that has now ceased. We do not have a deadline so we are now taking the time to do some packing, pile up donations for charity shops and stuff to go to the recycling centre when it re-opens. The need for exercise takes us out for walks. Fortunately, we are not restricted as much as some countries where the furthest you can walk from home is 1km. Most of our walks are 2-3 miles along the lanes. The only place where you cannot stay two metres from anyone you might pass is the path alongside the brook.

Two hundred years ago our lane was a through road with a ford across the brook. This was later changed to a bridle path alongside the water with no vehicular access. When digital maps came out, many still had it depicted as a through road so early satnavs were sending people down it, thinking they could reach the other end. Eventually the council were persuaded to put up no through road signs at each end of the lane.

The lanes were initially quieter than usual with the odd car and several tractors but traffic is now increasing. We have seen a little more of our neighbours who are walking and cycling and one recently had a frightening close shave with a speeding vehicle. We also met some very new neighbours.

Some houses had rainbow paintings done by children in the windows. One plus is that there is less litter in the hedgerows. I only picked up one bottle on one of our walks whereas there is usually plenty of litter. McDonalds in Congleton being closed will be helping but there has also been a lot more fly tipping in the surrounding areas. Sadly, there is no option of refreshments at our local pub.

I have been undertaking a photographic natural history of the garden and am now trying to finish this before we leave.

It will not cover everything: one wood louse will have to represent the 30 species of woodlice and some visitors we have had over the years including cuckoos, woodpeckers and swallows; are now rarely or not seen at all.

If we were not in lockdown and only leaving the village for a weekly shop/medication collection, we would have been continuing our coastal journey in the campervan; juggling this with the house sale. Not knowing how long it will take to sell meant we had no major trips planned for 2020 and so not having the problems with refunds that many people are experiencing. I have as always been planning future trips without knowing when we can get back on the road

 

Travelling with climate change

 

In the last 10 years we have seen several indications of climate change during our journeys. The first was the most severe and traumatic. In 2010 I went trekking in Ladakh in Kashmir, India with a group of people I had met the previous year on a fund-raising trek in Kerala. The tour company we went with have been running treks in Kashmir since 1874 and we had planned to do the Markha Valley trek. After a couple of days in Delhi, we flew to Srinagar with the first sight of snowy mountains peeping through the clouds from the plane. On Dal Lake we relaxed

before exploring the local area including three Mughal gardens, taking us up to 2000m.

The following day, woken by the muezzin and the cockerel at 5am, we were soon on the road to Kargil; stopping for a rest at Sonnamarg, an alpine meadow at 2,615m.

In order to leave we had to wait an hour for the convoy which we had to join in this disputed territory. We continued and passed the High-Altitude Warfare School, arriving in Kargil at 8pm.  The following morning, we left to continue on the road; crossing the Fatu La which at 4,140m is the highest point on the Leh-Srinagar Highway.

After getting stuck on a hairpin bend and a puncture, the bus finally arrived in Leh at 10pm. We spent a day sightseeing and then met the pony train at Spituk bridge. Our walk from there to our first camp was long and hot in the sun. Camp was at 2700m at Zingchen. The next day we climbed to 3900m and I started to become centrally cyanosed so completed the last 45 minutes on horseback. Day 3 began the ascent to the 4,900m summit of the Ganda La. I did the last bit on horseback and even the horse was struggling for breath. There were great views from the top.

Descending the gorge, we reached Skiu: a small village at 3400m and set up camp in a field by the river. During our rest day, we did some yoga, walked to a gompa and relaxed. Ladakh gets all its water from snowmelt and it had not rained in summer for 100 years. However, that night it rained heavily in the early hours. This delayed our departure the next day but we reached Hamunsho in the afternoon. Our leader was beginning to wonder if we would be able to get to Markha as the river may have become impassable. There was a major storm overnight and another which had swept away some campers. Markha was inaccessible so we turned around and took a shortcut back to Skiu. That night we had to evacuate our camp as the river rose and flooded it.

We moved our tents to higher ground in the village and spent the morning filling bottles with spring water and sterilising it. We assisted some Romanian trekkers who had got caught in the gorge by the flash flood and had sheltered overnight on a ledge scraped from the cliff face. One Romanian and one Danish woman had died. Later some French guys arrived covered in mud and hypothermic having lost everything and one of their group had died. They had cuts and abrasions which needed dressing. One of the villages had a radio and we heard an English language Indian News broadcast saying that flooding and landslides were widespread and that 150 had been killed, homes demolished and 800 were missing. We would have been counted among the missing as we had entered but not left, a National Park. Even in Skiu, the stream that bisected the village was now a muddy river that had destroyed houses and some people did not know what had happened to their relatives on the other side.

Later that day, another flash flood came down the gorge. We climbed up the scree until it was clear that the waters were receding. We had hoped to be able to walk to Chilling and return to Leh but learnt from a French trekker who had come from that direction that a landslide had blocked the Chilling to Leh road. That night we slept fully clothed with our boots on in case we had to evacuate quickly. We woke to more rain and the news that our ponies would not be able to get over the landslides to Chilling so that even if we got there, we would have no shelter and there were many tourists stranded there. Two of our guys made two attempts to get over the landslides to walk to a village which had a satellite phone to try and let our relatives know what was happening. Another two rainy days followed and we set up a management group to figure out how to deal with 150 foreign nationals, 40 Ladakhi support staff, 31 ponies that needed feeding and traumatised villages living in very basic conditions. I did a drug inventory, some was in charge of sterilising water, my son checked the tents and fly sheets, I have a health talk to the youth to ensure handwashing, using the composting toilet, keeping eyes clean and avoiding fungal infections in flexures. Another doctor and I dealt with some wounds and minor injuries. We learnt that the floods were very widespread; much of northern India was affected; Jammu and Kashmir had declared a state of emergency and 10,000 were dead in Pakistan after a French guide managed to get to the phone and speak to his office in Leh. We were rationing food but were told that a food, water and medicine drop would come soon. The dead Romanian had still not been buried and the Ladakhis said that it was not an auspicious time. There was not enough depth of soil in the valley to dig a grave and in Ladakh air burials are the norm. The Muslim person in the village cuts up the body, it is taken into the mountains to a stone bier and left to the vultures. This was not acceptable to the deceased’s companions.  An American couple in our group did their washing and hung it on a prayer wall next to their tent. Incense had to be burnt and prayers said to atone for this. We were woken at 5am by the sound of helicopters. They sounded too small to be dropping off supplies and turned out to be the stripped-down Puma helicopters the Indian Air Force fly at high altitudes.

We were being rescued and got back to Delhi in time to get our flight home. The following year we went on a walking holiday in the outer Canaries.  They were having their wettest spring for 25 years. You are supposed to be able to see North Africa from the top of La Gomera but cloud removed any views. When our ferry returned to Tenerife, the beach at Los Christianos was flooded and seagulls were wondering where the people were.

In 2017, while touring New Zealand, we visited the Fox Glacier; somewhat smaller and quieter than the Franz Josef Glacier. You walk up a lane which marks where the face of the glacier was in 1915 and 1935 and it had retreated. It advanced between 1985 and 2009 but since then there has been a significant retreat.

In Iceland in February 2017 there was not enough snow to do a snowmobile drive which was on our itinerary. We are now trying to reduce the impact of our travels on the climate. In Western Europe we drive, take the train and/or ferries. With our campervan we are exploring more of our own island and limiting long-haul travel to one big trip per year. The coronavirus pandemic has had little impact as this was the year, we planned to sell our house and therefore had not booked any major trips.

 

A Journey into the Past

Early March saw us taking a few days to revisit some of our old haunts in Scotland. The first stop was Dundee where James studied at the university from 1979-1984. A keen football fan, he followed Dundee United. So, when he spotted that Dundee Rep Theatre were putting on a production entitled ‘Smile’ about their manager Jim McLean, it was a must. We stayed at a central hotel just a short walk from the theatre and although some of it was a bit of a mystery to me (having never been to a football match), he and the rest of the audience enjoyed it very much. In the morning we drove along the Tay towards Perth pick up the A9.

Before reaching Perth we diverted near Errol to Cairn O’Mhor Winery. Someone James was at university with left the course and with her husband, has been making fruit wines and cider since 1987. We had a look around the winery and saw some cider being bottled before having a coffee with Judith and Ron.

After driving down the very familiar A9 south of Perth, we arrived at Doune. The castle, built in the 1300s, is now under the care of Historic Scotland.

My first visit there was in the early 1970s when my clarinet teacher had to arrange a musical group to play at the wedding reception of Lord Doune’s daughter. The castle has been under renovation for some time and not open the last time we passed by. Today, we did manage a wander round the interior

but the grounds and riverside were too wet from the recent heavy rains. The guy in the gift shop told us that while filming had gone on in the castle since Monty Python and the Holy Grail; after Game of Thrones and Outlander were filmed there, the number of tourists visiting had increased. Last summer they had days with more than 1000 visitors (many from the USA), causing huge problems when coaches tried to drive down the single-track road to the car park. Continuing up the route my school bus used to take, we arrived in Callander. Parking down by the meadows, I could see a snowy Ben Ledi behind all the ducks and swans hanging around on the water, hoping for some food.

At the south end of the car park is a mound known as the ‘Hill of St Kessog’.

St Kessog was an Irish follower of St Columba preached here in the 6th century. It is not certain whether or not the mound was part of a motte or castle hill but in the 1930s an archaeological dig found the remains of a pre-Reformation church just to the right of the mound. It is thought to be the first church in Callander built in 1238. It was later demolished and the graveyard was established with the hexagonal watch house nearby to look out for grave robbers. Callander also has a second-hand bookshop with adjacent book bindery.

Our next night was in Stirling where we met while working at the hospital there. Our hotel, in the old town was the original Royal Infirmary and the hotel next door was the old High School. We watched the sun go down from the castle terrace.

In the morning we were at the entrance just as the castle opened and had a look around the palace which was restored in 2011.

As most of the other visitors were waiting for the guided tour, we had the place to ourselves, looking at the sculptures and views over the surrounding countryside. Staff told us that in the high season they get up to 5,000 visitors each day.

A few miles further on is the Wallace Monument. Like Stirling Castle, I had not been there since childhood. The path winds up the Abbey Craig where snowdrops and primroses were blooming with blue bells and dog’s mercury emerging. These are both indicators of ancient woodland.

A few miles further along the foot of the Ochil Hills lies the Broomhall. It was built in 1874 by John Foukes and Frances Mackison for James Johnstone. He was the younger of two brothers who owned a shipbuilding and mills business. After a family argument, James had the hall built in the style of Balmoral Castle with the tower so that he could look down on his brother. It is situated next door to where I lived from the late 1960s to 1974 on Long Row in Menstrie.

In 1906 the Castle was sold to an Italian Riding School and in 1910 became the Clifford Park Boys Prep School run under the auspices of William Herbert Leetham. Some sources say that in the early hours of Friday 28th June 1940 (others say in 1941) the building caught fire whilst the boarders were camping in the grounds. The fire seemed to originate on the second floor towards the rear of the building and the alarm was raised by the Local Defence Volunteers who were out on their night-time patrol. It took hold quickly and could be seen for miles as it lit up the sky. Under the direction of Fire Master Robert Cairns, water was pumped from the county mains near the old Menstrie railway station and it was brought under control before 9am. By this time a large crowd had gathered to see what had happened and offered what help they could. No one was injured but the building was completely gutted, although some furniture was saved. The cost of the damage ran into several thousand pounds but luckily Leetham had the building insured. Meanwhile, the boys were shipped elsewhere to continue their education. Information in the hotel (and other sources) state that a German schoolmaster took the boys camping on Myreton Hill and then set fire to it so that it could act as a beacon for the Luftwaffe returning from bombing Clydebank Shipyards in Glasgow. The Clydebank Blitz took place on the nights of 13th and 14th March 1941; nine months after some say the fire occurred at Broomhall. In 1946, and mostly in ruins, the proprietor of the house was Walter Alexander of Kork-N-Seal, a metal bottle cap manufacturer. By 1950, he had moved on and it belonged to Walter McAlpine Chalmers who rented it out to radio operator William James Sillars. During the 1950s the gardener’s cottage was sold to Tommy Kettles. I lived next door and went to school with his daughter; we used to play among the ruins although we were not supposed to as they were inevitably unstable and dangerous. The stables were converted into a house in 1977. In 1985 Broomhall was rebuilt and turned into a nursing home. In 2003 it was purchased by the current owners, who turned it into a small hotel with 16 bedrooms and a restaurant. The field which was in front of the hall and our house is now full of houses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sampling Southport

On one of our recent trips to Edinburgh, we decided to divert via Southport. It is the largest seaside town in Merseyside and the only Conservative constituency in the region. The town lies on the Sefton Coast of the Irish sea with the Ribble Estuary to the north. To the south is Ainsdale and Birkdale Sandhills Nature Reserve which is one of the largest areas of wild sand dunes left in the UK. Southport is home to the second longest pier in the country; the longest being Southend. It opened in August 1860 and is the oldest iron pier in the country and at a length of 1,108m, the longest iron one.

Interestingly in a time of climate change, global warming, rising sea levels and parts of the east coast of England disappearing into the sea; the sea in Southport has been recessing away from the coast during the 20th century. The Kings Gardens and Marine Lake are now where the beach was previously.

They were opened in 1913 and reopened after restoration in 2014. Swans and other water birds were on the water while bridges and the pier take traffic and pedestrians across to the sea front. Other green spaces in town are Hesketh Gardens and Victoria Park. Every year Southport hosts a Flower Show which celebrated its 90th anniversary in summer 2019. Lord Street is in the town centre lined with Victorian buildings and many shops. Southport still has many independent shops but has also lost some and some of the chain stores have left like many other towns in the country. Lord Street hosts Wayfarers arcade which opened in 1898 with 30 stores. There are now a few empty ones.

In September 2019, the town received £1.6m from the National Lottery Heritage Fund and in addition to money given by the council, this is being devoted to rejuvenating the town centre. Most of the market was being renovated and only a few stalls were open. We found Broadhurst’s Bookshop on Market Street. It has new books on the ground floor and two floors of secondhand books.

There are two other secondhand bookshops in town. We passed one of them but it was closed. A picnic was had in the sun by the beach and I had a brief beachcomb. There was only a narrow strip of sand but a long stretch of mud and the tide was out.

On an off-season weekday it was very quiet with just a few dog walkers. There were lots of razor shells on the beach; more than I have seen anywhere else, a few cockles and whelks. I found one piece of sea glass and then noticed an older man picking up something and filling bags which he was then loading onto his cycle. We got chatting and he told me that he was picking up coal for his fire. It is not something I have seen on a beach before but he told me that he had heard of a guy in Yorkshire who collected large amounts of coal from his local beach and sold it to a power station. Later, we watched the sun go down at the end of the pier

and the lights come on.

We had to leave the next morning and driving out of town it was hard to find a Guardian newspaper at any of the garages or newsagents in the outskirts. With a bit more time and when our coastal journey gets round here there is the Botanic Gardens to explore, the Atkinson Centre and a bird reserve slightly north of the town on the coast.