The wrong graces?
In which I ponder the famous Inverness statue trio of Faith, Hope and Charity, and why they’re standing in the wrong order…
Travel doesn’t need to involve heading off to far-flung places. Some of the greatest discoveries you can make include the little-known curiosities that lurk in your own local area. Here are some tales of my adventures near to home, from camping and hillwalking around the Highlands, to some light “urbex”, photo-walking or history-hunting in and around Inverness or elsewhere in Scotland.
In which I ponder the famous Inverness statue trio of Faith, Hope and Charity, and why they’re standing in the wrong order…
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…
In which I reflect on the changing face of Dundee, and the threat to its curious yet compelling aura of abandonment.
I am all too rarely able to make it along to the monthly gatherings of the Highland Literary Salon, and last night was one such occasion. It was a “slam night”, which, far from being a chance to practice ones wrestling moves as I first speculated, was in fact a chance for participants to sign…
In which I explore one of Inverness’s nearby “hidden gems”, Clava – home to some Bronze Age cairns and Scotland’s longest stone railway viaduct.
It’s easy to forget about Dunfermline – one of Fife’s many maligned towns struggling in a post-industrial world. Yet it’s absolutely packed full of history, and could easily pass for a quaint wee university city.
In which I experience a flood-hit, delayed journey home, and the entire Scotrail staff seem to inexplicably have forgotten that the Highland Main Line exists.
Today, I was in Stornoway on the sunny isle of Lewis, my first flight out west since Flybe took over the Loganair franchise. However, most interestingly, joining the usual motley crew of overweight, balding public sector middle managers (I discount myself, naturally) on the early flight out this morning were two security contractors escorting a…
In the east end of Glasgow, serenely resting in between the Tennent’s brewery and the M8 motorway, is the Necropolis. Dating from the 1800s, it’s effectively a posh man’s graveyard, full of extravagant, bombastic and beautiful memorials of those members of Victorian Glasgow society who could afford them. I’ve been meaning to take a wander…
In which I give a blow by blow account of yet another delayed train between the Central Belt and Inverness. Being a victim of delays and hapless train company organisation seems to be my speciality…