Autumn in Edinburgh

Its Edinburgh, its autumn, its beautiful...







As I was walking through the New Town with dad for Doors Open Day we looked up Castle Street and saw two jet contrails describing a huge Saint Andrew's Cross in the sky above Edinburgh Castle. Legend has it that a vision in the sky before a battle 1100 years ago is the reason that the Saltire came to be the national emblem of Scotland (and one of the oldest national symbols in the world, I believe), so there was something especially magical about seeing this accidental creation above one of the great symbols of Scotland. Few minutes later or from a different vantage point and we'd not have seen this special view.

The ancient Celtic rite of the Summoning of the cab

Flying the flag







Clan McCamera highlander from Glen Fuji by Ben Canon

Home, home on the range...

Among all the acres of tartan on display down by Holyrood today for The Gathering (even by Edinburgh standards there were a lot of kilts and plaid) a single, old cowpoke, taking the weight off his feet for a few moments, sitting outside the Parliament building and looking over to the Palace of Holyrood and the Queen's Gallery. The contrast between his cowboy hat and shirt and the Saltire and Union flags and the old buildings across from him appealed to me and I had to get a shot:

Happy Saint Andrew's Day

Happy Saint Andrew's Day; time to do traditional Scottish things, so I'm eating a deep fried veggie haggis marinaded in half a bottle of single malt while wearing a kilt made of shortbread.

snowy Saltire
Originally uploaded by byronv2

Wind whipping around a Saltire above the entrance to the Balmoral Hotel in Edinburgh as snow makes streaks across a leaden night sky

Happy Saint Andrew's Day



And so one of the Scottish national emblems - the thistle - for the day of our patron saint who also gave us the form of our flag, the Saltire, the oldest national flag still in use, an insignia of Scottishness for over a thousand years. And since it is Saint Andrew's Day let's have some Scottish poetry - this one is by the poet and novelist Andrew Greig, who I've had the pleasure of sharing a drink and a natter with on a few occasions over the years:

As your lover on waking recounts her dreams,
unruly, striking, unfathomable as herself,
your attention wanders
to her moving lips, throat, those slim shoulders
draped in a shawl of light, and what's being christened here
is not what is said but who is saying it,
the overwhelming fact
she lives and breathes beside you another day.

Other folks' golf shots being even less interesting
than their dreams, I'll be brief:
as she spoke I thought of a putt yesterday at the 4th,
as many feet from the pin as I am years from my birth,
several more than I am from my death –
one stiff clip, it birled across the green,
curved up the rise, swung down the dip
like a miniature planet heading home,

and the strangest thing is not what's going to happen
but your dazed, incredulous knowing it will,
long before the ball reaches the cup then drops,
that it's turned out right after all,
like waking one morning to find yourself
unerringly in love with your wife.

"A Long Shot", by Andrew Greig, borrowed from the website of the Scottish Poetry Library (based here in Edinburgh), where you can enjoy a good browse at plenty of verse from Scottish writers.

Signs in the sky

This morning on my way to work I lifted my head out of my book for a few seconds as the bus crossed North Bridge, which spans the valley between the Georgian New Town and the Old Town which descends Castle Ridge. At this time of year, early in the morning the sun is still low in the sky and was behind the tall, old buildings on the ridge. I looked up and saw a Saltire fluttering on a flag pole high atop the old Scotsman building (once the home of the Scotsman paper, now a posh hotel). The breeze was blowing east to west, almost mimicking the arc of the slowly rising sun, making it fly fully out in line with the front of the building against a clear, blue sky. Just then the ascending sun struck the back of the flag making it glow; the light blue of the Saltire's background was illuminated almost to the same shade of the sky and the white Saint Andrew's Cross stood out proudly above the city.

Pure chance - for a few seconds the sun was at the right height and angle, the wind blowing in just the right direction and I was in the right place to see it. I pass this daily and don't usually see this. Little moments like that can make your day. Little moments like that make me think perhaps there is more to the myth of our national flag, how the white clouds in the sky bisected one another like the cross of Saint Andrew against a blue sky before a battle; the battle was won and the sign became the emblem of the land and has remained so for centuries. For a few precious seconds, nature, architecture and symbolism combined perfectly; I was reminded of the poetry of Hugh MacDirmid

It requires great love of it deeply to read
The configuration of a land,
Gradually grow conscious of fine shadings,
Of great meanings in slight symbols,
Hear at last the great voice that speaks softly,
See the swell and fall upon the flank
Of a statue carved out in a whole country's marble,
Be like Spring, like a hand in a window
Moving New and Old things carefully to and fro,
Moving a fraction of flower here,
Placing an inch of air there,
And without breaking anything.

So I have gathered unto myself
All the loose ends of Scotland,
And by naming them and accepting them,
Loving them and identifying myself with them,
Attempt to express the whole.