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We went for a walk this past weekend around Reelig Glen, a wonderful gem of a walk just a short drive from Inverness.

I’d been there before, but on this occasion the time of day allowed for great winter afternoon sunlight penetrating the deep, thick forests.  The trees in Reelig Glen are tall – one tree was, when measured some years ago, declared the tallest in Britain – and so what light does reach ground level gives the place an eerie, magical feel.  It’s only a short loop, but feels like another world when you enter.

I’d love to go back some time closer to sunrise or sunset to get some even better photos.

I’ve been zipping about a fair amount this past week.  I’ve been ambling around in Inverness…

…and exploring Glasgow at night.

The Glasgow visit was for an Explosions in the Sky gig on Monday night. It was my third time of seeing them and they were excellent. Beautiful, uplifting, energetic and powerful. The Texan post-rock outfit remain my favourite band right now. It was a great set, though to my mild surprise they didn’t play much of their most recent album, but with such a strong catalogue that was no loss.

The support was in the form of Lanterns on the Lake, a Sigur Ros-like outfit from Newcastle. I’d not heard of them but they were very good, and I’ll definitely be checking them out further.

Then on Wednesday night I was in Edinburgh overnight for work, and took the opportunity of a quiet evening to take some night shots from the top of Calton Hill. Being at a major spot overlooking the capital felt somehow apt on the day that the referendum consultation was launched.

It’s interesting times in Scotland these days.

See the whole upload of this week’s shots here on Flickr.

Nicole and I celebrated our second wedding anniversary this past weekend (it’s a great fortitude that our anniversaries are on the same day, really).  We’ve set a pattern of taking it in turns to organise a surprise for each other, and last year I took us to Austria.  This year was Nicole’s turn and she chose one of the prettiest parts of Scotland, the dramatic Applecross peninsula.

Before getting there, though, we spent a night in a hotel north of Inverness.  It was lovely, but I’ll keep them anonymous as I’d like to have a dig at one aspect.  In their luxurious lounge were some bookshelves filled with a curious and entirely unrelated collection of books, seemingly acquired in an entirely random way over time.

The oddest were the Usborne Guide to Hamsters (“with internet links”) and a book that looked out of the 1970s and featured Terry Wogan on the cover.  I only wish I’d gone back to my room for my camera.

There was also a 19th century book titled “Why I Am A Christian” written with all the colour, verve and cheer you could imagine emanating from a dour, hardback Victorian-era epistle.  Besides all that, there was, for some inexplicable reason, a large number of novels translated into German, including a Dan Brown I’d never heard of and a science fiction novel or two.  It was quite the oddest collection of books I’ve seen for a long time and perhaps leaves some clues as to the sorts of people who have stayed at the hotel over the years.

When we got to Applecross, we stayed in a beautiful and snug wee cottage for a few nights, enjoying the occasional breaks in the rain to go for walks, drives and expeditions to the (justifiably) famous Applecross Inn.  But the cottage rivalled the hotel for its curious reading material, principally in the form of entries in its guestbook.  Among the numerous glowing comments were some that led me to really fear for this country’s city dwellers.

One guest complained about the steep gradient to the cottage, saying it was “not good for people with disabilities (heart condition)”.  Another objected to the fact that the cottage’s view was of a “farmyard” (when it was actually of a modern house on a croft – a bit of education about the differences between farms and crofts needed there I think); though someone from the same town as that writer thoughtfully though unnecessarily followed up a few comments later with an apology for his brethren.  Someone else complained that their two year old had been caught trying to escape through a skylight.  Another person even thought it fair to criticise a bed in a particularly cosy and snug bedroom for being too small: despite the fact that if the bed had been any bigger the room would have been less of a bedroom and more of a dojo.

Quite how these stupid people survive outside the limits of the city they come from (and why they bother venturing furth) is a mystery to me.  Much as, I imagine, the “countryside” (as everyone except those living there seems to call it) is a mystery to them.  One of the strengths of Inverness as a place to live is that you’re always able to appreciate and understand both rural and urban Scotland.  This beautiful part of the world was barely a couple of hours’ drive from home, and a gorgeous drive at that.

Enough of the rantings. Beyond all that, it was a lovely weekend.  I’d been to Applecross before, but really enjoyed taking the time to relax, explore with the camera, and see a lot more of the peninsula than I had before.  Here are the photos.

If you’ve been in Aberdeen recently, you won’t have escaped the furore over the plans to turn Union Terrace Gardens (right) into a big square.

The idea came from Sir Iain Wood, one of the city’s richest oil industrialists, who has wanted to give £50million of his own money back to the city that helped generate his wealth.

On the face of it, it’s a striking and thoroughly altruistic gesture.  However it’s proved to be a hugely divisive one because the plan involves building over Union Terrace Gardens and raising the ground to the level of the buildings around it.

There are six options, and a consultation has recently been running to gauge public views about them.  I noticed it when I was in Aberdeen on Wednesday, and given that I had a spare hour I decided to pop in to have a look.  I discovered the next day that it closed just a couple of hours after I’d visited, so my being in the area with a little free time was a lucky coincidence.

Let me explain the basic idea of the plans.

The night-time photo above is, I’m afraid, the best one I have on Flickr of the area in question.  To set the scene, Aberdeen was, a little like the Old Town in Edinburgh, a medieval city built on a number of hills.  Later developments such as bridges and new streets effectively raised the city, leaving parts like the Denburn Valley, pictured, a little below the new street level.

If you explore the side streets around Aberdeen city centre you get a real sense of that historic heart  lurking beside (and often below) the city centre’s main artery, Union Street, and such explorations will show you how the city was raised to a higher level (1|2|3).

And this is all, by the way, entirely separate from the beautiful atmosphere of Old Aberdeen proper, lying about twenty minutes’ walk north, the main features of which include Aberdeen University (Scotland’s only medieval campus university, founded in 1495) and the gorgeous St Machar’s Cathedral (left).

Belmont Street, at the heart of Aberdeen’s nightlife and cultural scene, is just out of the big photograph above, running along the other side of the buildings which back onto the left of the picture.  Union Street, the main shopping thoroughfare, is at the far end above the arched bridge.  The three gorgeous Victorian icons of “education, salvation and damnation” are behind where this photo was taken from.  The road and railway run through the centre of the picture, and Union Terrace Gardens are to the right.

You can see from the bridge in the background, plus where the gardens meet the street on the right, the level to which it is proposed the ground is raised.  The road and railway would be covered, but so would Union Terrace Gardens.

There has been substantial opposition to the plans in the city, with protesters claiming that the beauty of the gardens and an important green space at the heart of the city would be lost forever.

I am not convinced I ever had much sympathy for the opponents of the plan.  I never thought that Union Terrace Gardens were particularly well-used or promoted enough, and while they were certainly pretty they seemed to be more of a spot for sleeping rough than enjoying the serenity of a public park.  Having lived in Aberdeen for over five years and still being a regular visitor, I can say that I’ve probably been in the gardens no more than a handful of times, barely for more than a few minutes, and never to spend any prolonged time in.  The lack of footfall through the park is surely in the main due to the lack of sunlight that come from it being at a sunken level.  Yes they are nice gardens but they are just not sunny enough compared to the city’s other lovely public spaces such as Seaton Park or Duthie Park.

Moreover, building over the dual carriageway and railway line will be of great benefit to the aesthetics of the scene, and the idea of connecting Union Terrace (the road to the right of the gardens in the picture), Belmont Street, Union Street and Rosemount Viaduct (behind the photographer’s vantage point) seems quit sensible on paper.

Not that I am unequivocally in favour of the proposed new city gardens, however.

It was with a mixture of lazy ambivalence and only mild curiosity that I ventured into the exhibition to see the six options, and having considered them briefly I am somewhat underwhelmed by them all and unpersuaded that any  would truly add something to the city that couldn’t be done in other ways.  They all represent sledgehammers lining up to crack a nut that nobody can agree requires cracking in the first place.  So that’s my main reason for being concerned about the plans.

Secondly, I passionately believe there are better ways of thanking or cheering up Aberdeen than by giving it a square it’s not sure it wants.  If I had fifty million spare, I’d give it to Aberdeen Football Club.  Nothing would enthuse the city’s overoptimistic football fans, not to mention wider population, more than its perennially underachieving and underfunded football team returning to former glory.

And sadly it is down the highway of massive investment that you achieve things in football these days.  So what better way of using your wealth to restore morale, profile and exposure to the city of Aberdeen than through rebuilding a European-class football team?  Plus, you’d never have to put your hands in your pocket in a city pub for the rest of your life.

But my third reason for being sceptical of the city square plans is that I think they’re picking the wrong spot.

I reckon that the true heart of the city is further east, at the Castlegate – the historic connection between King Street (the road north), Union Street (heading west) and the roads down to the harbour and beach.

Castlegate – so called because it was the site of the city’s castle, destroyed in the Wars of Independence in the 1300s and never rebuilt – is perhaps a tired spot, and no doubt it lost some of its purpose when the city’s trams were removed along with the Castlegate’s role as its interchange.

And incidentally, I think Aberdeen would really suit and benefit from having trams back and it’s a tragedy that Edinburgh has given the mode of transport a bad name.

But anyway.  Surrounded by a mixture of the imposing and the ornate, the medieval and Victorian, and across from the Town House and the magnificent pub designed by and named after Archibald Simpson, Castlegate is an impressive spot and could easily be more so.  The neglect it has experienced over the years could easily be repaired, and if the beautiful Citadel and other buildings fronting the square could be used for a more inclusive civic or cultural purpose then you could have a magnificent setting in the making.

Restoring life to the Castlegate would be much cheaper than trying to create it from scratch over Union Terrace Gardens, more effective, and – as it would draw more obviously upon the city’s historic layout and architectural heritage – significantly more in keeping with the character and soul of the city.

But maybe, just as I found with the exhibition and consultation I browsed round in its final few hours, my not being an Aberdeen resident perhaps negates the validity of my views.

For what they’re worth, though, you’ve just read them.

I think it comes from being a over a hundred miles away from any place of a similar size and thus being in no other city’s shadow, but there is a great confidence to Inverness.

No more so is this true than in the city’s music scene.

Half-decent (or, indeed, full-decent) bands can crop up in the city or the wider area, last for years, and accrue large and loyal followings.

The flip side of this, however, is that the Highlands’ best bands are rarely on the radar of the music industry’s labels, venues and promoters in the central belt or beyond Scotland and thus rarely gain the coverage or success they arguably deserve.

That must be a frustrating experience for bands who genuinely believe in themselves yet who admirably choose not to relocate south.

That’s probably especially true for The Side, a long-running indie rock band from Alness, not desperately far north of Inverness, who after seven years and a handful of EPs decided to quit.  Their farewell gig was at the Ironworks on Friday past, and I was not only there but (unintentionally) first in the queue at the door which got me jokingly labelled a “groupie” by the security staff.  Not that I know the band – I’ve never met any of them but have seen them play a handful of gigs in smaller venues around Inverness and their bouncy, catchy songs are all the more enjoyable for the band’s energetic performances that are almost exhausting simply to watch.

Their album “Nowhere Left To Run” was my album of the year a couple of years ago when it came out (check out “One Fine Day” on their MySpace which is a particular favourite track).  The release threatened to propel them into the big time, with the band played in various locations around Europe and got some big gigs supporting names such as Texas and Bon Jovi.

However, the band sadly made the recent announcement that they were to split – it was sad that the intended success did not emerge, with my network of spies in the Easter Ross music world speaking of that old chestnut “creative differences”.  It’s a credit to the band that they’ve decided to go their own way before sliding into obscurity, instead leaving as they do pretty much at their peak.

Their gig was excellent, and a fine send-off to one of the best bands to have come from the Highlands in recent years.  Their album is still available, and they have a number of songs on MySpace.  For much better photos of the gig than my grainy, shaky efforts, I refer you to local music photographer Al Donnelly’s blog (1|2).

If you ever want to know what it feels like to travel to the other side of the world, but don’t have the time or money to do so, then allow me to suggest that you take the overnight bus from London to Inverness.  The feeling of exhaustion, plus the desperate need to sleep during the daytime upon returning, has given me the sort of jetlag that I’ve only ever experienced after flights to or from Australia and New Zealand.

A little over twenty four hours after returning from France I’ve more or less shaken the tiredness off, which is just as well as I have a very busy week’s travels for work coming up.  In that time, a major highlight has been sorting through my Paris photos and uploading a selection of them – we were only there overnight on our journey home but managed to pack a lot in.  The whole set from the trip, incidentally, is here.

I’ll be putting finger to keyboard with a few bits and pieces of what we got up to in France, but as a sneak preview it involved sunshine, castles and industrial quantities of delicious French cheese.

That won’t be all written up for a few weeks, though, as I have mullet-related writing to do.  Yes, despite my promise to myself that I’d finish my draft of my second book finished before going to France, I failed.  I’m nearly there though – perhaps 80-90% finished – so am not feeling too bad about missing what was after all an entirely self-imposed date.  I think I might be done in a month or two, but given my past record I reckon it would tempting fate to announce another deadline.

On with the writing then.  If the post-holiday blues and general work busyness don’t get in the way.

I’ve begun uploading photos from our time in beautiful France and neutral Switzerland.  We’ve been staying with friends in Annecy, a lovely medieval town in Haute-Savoie, and have also been to Geneva for the day.

I’ll write more soon, but keep your eye on the evolving photo set in the meantime.

This past weekend, we hit the west coast with a group of friends to go hillwalking.

We climbed a mountain at Torridon on Saturday (Mullach an Rathain, for those are interested).  It would have been two peaks but the weather was against us.

Then on Sunday Nicole and I drove around the spectacular Applecross peninsula taking in the famous Bealach na Bà.

It’s a beautiful part of the world, and rather marvellously it’s barely a couple of hours’ drive from home.  I took a few photos.

I was in Dundee for a couple of nights last week, thanks to work.  As I’ve blogged before, I go there for work quite a bit, increasingly so these days, it seems.

It’s a place that is – to put it euphemistically – undergoing a major regeneration, with work being done to tidy it up, knock stuff down, build other stuff, and preserve yet more stuff.

The city suffers from a major disconnection between its city centre and potentially immensely attractive waterfront, and the area around the quayside is an important key (excuse the pun) to rebuilding this link and improving the city’s reputation.  With both the past (two rare and famous boats) and the future (the forthcoming V&A) playing their part, Dundee seems to be slowly getting its act together.  Though until it fully does, it lies in a curious limbo – or at least the quayside does, as if the forces driving the regeneration have pressed pause just to see what would happen if time and motion stood still.

I spent a free evening wandering around the quayside with my camera, a part of the city I’d not explored previously and which was, I have to say, quite a revelation.  The area has a mix of old buildings, presumably linked to the shipping or fishing industries, mid-twentieth century monstrosities crying to be demolished, and smart modern structures that are still soulless and not yet fully occupied.

It made for an odd but hugely compelling fusion, with the decay of the old and the freshness of the new contrasting with each other yet at the same time sharing a sense of lifelessness.  My walk led me to encounter very few other people, few signs of life at all in fact other than seagulls shrieking and swooping as if masters of this abanonded terrain.  The area had a surreal, almost desperate sense of abandonment, as if the regeneration had been a bad mistake and the area depopulated hurriedly.

It was, naturally, crying out for the black and white treatment, and I hope my photos capture a little of the peculiar and creepy atmosphere.  I wasn’t entirely happy with some of what I’ve uploaded – one or two are a little overexposed – but thoroughly enjoyed discovering this strange frozen-in-time decay.

I almost hope they don’t continue with the regeneration: it’s hauntingly engrossing just as it is.