shewhomust | Entries tagged with scotland

I started writing this post on a cold rainy day in November: when better to keep that long-ago promise of one more post about our Scottish holiday? That was Sunday and it's now Tuesday, but the principle still holds good. So: on our last day we took a short diversion from the road home to visit Dunbar. I don't know why we'd never been there before: it's not that much further up the coast than Eyemouth, which is somewhere we go from Lindisfarne. We have even passed through Dunbar (on the train: it's on the East Coast main line). But for some reason it had never occurred to me to stop and have a look round, until I saw pictures of the town at the exhibition about the Scottish soldiers marched to Durham as prisoners after the battle of Dunbar (surely I posted about that excibition? but I can't find it, so here's a talk on the subject that we attended instead). The pictures - particularly those of the old harbour - were very inviting, and I looked at a map and realised that this was somewhere we could easily go: I'd been thinking of a day trip, or even a weekend break, and then this year did not turn out as expected...

But the morning after the storm, we set off from Falkirk, and surprisingly soon we were driving along Dunbar's broad main street, looking for somewhere to park, heading straight for the sphinx:

I don't know why there is a sphinx on top of Lauderdalr House: it's a listed building (mansion house, later a barracks, from the office of the Adam brothers) but the detailed information to which I have linked says only "supporting winged sphinx figure". The sphinx is not obliged to explain itself. I thought it was a good omen.

( More under the cut ... )

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/736089.html

It was D's idea for the four of us to unwind from the splendour and excitements of our stay at Auchinleck with a weekend on Bute. He wooed me with the argument that it's another island for my portfolio, one I hadn't visited yet: that's not technically correct, as we had used Bute as a stepping stone between ferries on our way home from Kintyre, But that really didn't count, and an extra weekend sounded good.

So it feels appropriate to start with this picture of a Victorian worthy durveying the gardens on the front:

because my initial reaction, arriving from Wemyss Bay, was that yes, I could see that this was very much a Victorian seaside resort, but whatever that may suggest of the cheap and cheerful, or the somewhat fown-at-heel, is balanced by the beauty of the scenery - not dramatic, but quite stunning (and not what is suggested by the phrase "in the Clyde estuary" which traditionally describes the location of Bute). Appropriate, too, because the gentleman in question, Alexander Bannatyne Stewart (and on another visit to Bute, I'd like to visit his garden - and fernery - there) reminfd me so much of D. when he was younger, and had more hair. "It's a long time since I've worn a frock coat," says D., but he was wearing an academic gown when we first met, and the effect was similar.

( More from the isle of Bute )

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/729106.html

We spent the last two nights of our holiday in ~~an upmarket wooden hut~~ a galmping pod near Falkirk (this detail will become relevant later). On the day between them, we visited the Falkirk Wheel. This is the focal point of a landscape of engineering wondersm from the Antonine Wall to the Grand Union Canal, and we might have visited Rough Castle Roman Fort or the 'Kelpies' sculpture, or just strolled along by the canal. For a nimber of reasons, we did none of these things. We took a pleasant boat trip, eiding the wheel up from the Forth & Clyde Canal up and along the Union Canal, passing through the tunnel under the wall, and then we went off in search of lunch. Which I don't regret, because there were scallops and they were perfect. And the Wheel itself is magnificent:

I don't know what the elephant is doing there.

We returned to our pod for a quiet evening of reading and internets and televion. But we didn't have a quiet night, because there was a spectacular thunderstorm, and a little wooden hut is the perfect place from which to appreciate the rain hammering on the roof, and the thunfder rolling overhead and the lightning making the sky shine bright through the gap in the curtains - and we were snug and dry inside. Much more comfortable, in fact, than if we had taken the other option, which was the chain hotel just down the hill: we drove past it next morning on the way out of town, and the river had burst its banks, leaving the car park under two feet of water.

By which time the sun was shining as if it had never happened, and we enjoyed our visit to Dunbar (of which there will in due course be photos). The drive home less so, because there were tractors out on the A1, and it felt like a long drive; but we were home in time for the pub quiz.

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/727968.html

Yesterday's drive from the ferry to our cosy overnight hut (they call it a glamping pod, but it's a luxury version of the 'huts' that made camping in Norway so comfortable, long ago) had space for a diversion: we considered a trip to Bannockburn, but decided that could wait until the visitor centre reopened, and instead we would have a look at the Pineapple. Easier said than done.

First off, our satnav threw a wobbler: she steered us over the Clackmannanshire Bridge, across the Forth. After previous disasters, we have now revered to keeping a road atlas in the car, and the Pineapple was clearly marked, south of the Forth: what was she up to? I wondered if she had another destination in mind (we kept passing road signs to historic towers, and other sites of interest) and we had time in hand to find out, but her instructions grew more and more erratic. We'd turn right as instructed, to be told to make a U turn when possible, and then turn right - she seemed to want us to turn right along the railway line - eventually I swear she told us "turn left, then make a U turn ..." Rather than keep driving round in circles, we referred to the map, crossed the Forth again, found what we were pretty sure was the right road - and even this wasn't straightforward. A sign directed us to the Pineapple, and we came to a promising gateway, with lodge - but here another sign told us that the entrance was from the main road, and it was only after a loop of several miles that we realised this referred to the entrance to the rectory next door.

Fortunately, after this protracted build-up, the Pineapple turned out to be worth it:

It was built in 1761 by the Earl of Dunmore as a summerhouse where he could appreciate the views from his estate. The Landmark Trust explains "It probably began as a pavilion of one storey, dated 1761, and only grew its fruity dome after 1777, when Lord Dunmore was brought back, forcibly, from serving as Governor of Virginia. There, sailors would put a pineapple on the gatepost to announce their return home. Lord Dunmore, who was fond of a joke, announced his return more prominently," - which is an explanation of sorts, though it's a pretty elaborate joke. It is now - as well as being a holiday cottage which you can rent from the Landmark Trust - a viewpoint from which you can admire Lord Dunmore's estates (on a clear day, which this wasn't) and the centre of a tangled and overgrown garden in which bees buzz from spearmint to sweet peas, and teazle's tangle with fig trees.

To anyone familiar with pineapple varieties it is immediately obvious that the cultivar 'Jamaica Queen' must have been used as the model,

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/727601.html

Before this weekend, I knew very little about Bute. We had driven across the island, between ferries after our midsummer in Kintyre. but even at the time I noted that this didn't count. I knew, as a result of that trip, that the main town of the island is Rothesay; and I knew a song about Rothesay - this one, sung by Robin Hall and Jimmie MacGregor (though I had this record). It's the tale of a raucous excursion from Glasgow (lyrics here).

A drive north along the coast from Ayr: a very pretty drive, with views across to - is that Bute? is that Kintyre beyond? you'd need a better map, and I'd rather watch the scenery - in gathering cloud and then rain, brought us through the pleasant seaside town of Largs to Wemyss Bay. How did those Glaswegians get to Rothesay on their excursions? By train, of course, but Wemyss Bay station still came as a surprise:

That's barely half of it; it extends out parallel to the jetty where the ferry docks. Not to mention the inside: you can just catch a glimpse through the arched entrance on the right:

Not to mention the second-hand bookshop in the corner, run by the Friends of the station, where I bought the first postcards of the trip. They were secondhand, vintage and extremely random, but judging by the (non)availability of postcards throughout, I suspect all postcards will be vintage collectables soon. Anyway, there was plenty to look at while we waited for the next ferry (this may or may not be the fault of Rishi Sunak, who apparently took up more than his share of space on the ferry that day - but not necessarily that ferry).

So Wemyss Bay sets the tones for Rothesay as Victorian seaside destination, and Rothesay O suggests mass urban tourism, and all that is definitely there, but the island is also much more various than I had anticipated. We were there because D. wanted to see Mount Stuart, which was closed, but the sun shone and we had a lovely time exploring, which I may wellpost about when I've had more time to play with some pictures.

And now we have gone our separate ways. D. and

valydiarosada will break their journey home at our house, and

durham_rambler and I are spending a last couple of nights near Falkirk - and hoping the rain will stop and allow us to explore the canals tomorrow!

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/727513.html

Written at tea time on Thursday 6th August, with a mug of Earl Grey (thank you,

durham_rambler) in the Library at Auchinleck House: posted at the same hour the following day on Bute, when connectivity even allows the insertion of a picture or two.

Short version: it has been a splendid few days, in magnificent surroundings and excellent company - rather more company than I have been accustomed to of late, and I may be suffering from a touch of burn-out. But just a touch, and if we escape with no worse after-effects than that, it will have been well worth it.

Longer version - ( under the cut. )

So here we are on our last evening, and soon we will dine for the last time in the dining room (which has windows on three sides of the house) and sort ourselves out for packing up and moving on, J. either home or not quite yet, as the fancy takes her, the other four of us to Bute and a cottage which will be nothing like as palatial as our current home, but should at least have wi-fi.

Crossposts: https://shewhomust.livejournal.com/727267.html

Holiday time: we set off on Monday for Auchinleck, where we will help D. celebrate his birthday on Wednesday. Almost two years ago, D. reserved a big house in Scotland, and started inviting people to join him there, and in the interom there have been changes: but

durham_rambler and I will join D. and

valydiarosada for five days in residence at the grand house, where some others will join us in a more or less semo-detached way. Then on Friday the four of us will decamp to a less grand cottage on the isle of Bute for the weekend. Thereafter

durham_rambler and I will take the scenic route home, spending a couple of night on the outskirts of Falkirk (in a glamping pod, whetever that may be).

In princile, therefore, I won't be online much for the next week and a hald: with luck I will be enjoying beautiful Scotland, and being sociable (at a permitted distance). Indeed, Auchinleck House is a Landmark Trust property, and they are a bit precious about wifi and getting away from it all - though what with

durham_rambler's phone and a nearby farm shop / café, I don't expect to be completely cut off. It may rain - this is Scotland, it may indeed rain - but I will pack books.

That's the next thing, then, packing. THere is one last batch of laundry in the machine, and a few shirts to iron from the previous batch. Since we are self-catering all the way, I need to sort out what I want to take, but groceries and vegetables have been delivered today, and cheese irdered, and we have wine - though I yhave beed putting aside bottles which D. might enjoy for long enough that it may be tricky weeding out theoes to be left behind (had all gone to plan, we would have drunk some of them on Londisfarne).

D. and

valydiarosada will overnight here tomorrow on their way north, so there's a certain amount of frantic housework going on: those people who reacted to lockdown by spring cleaning their homes? they are not us. But

durham_rambler has been hoovering and floorwashing, and some durfaces have been cleared, and all shall be well. O even cleared a collection's worth (a bin-full) of garden waste. My jungle, let me show it to you: