Category: History & Travel

Crail Harbour Postcard

The Red Pantiles of Fife

The region or county that I live in is called Fife, more commonly know as The Kingdom of Fife.  Long before there was a notion of a land called “Scotland”, this peninsula of land was said to be the lower Kingdom of the Picts (or Painted Peoples) known as  Fib.  These ancient boundaries and names persist very much into the present day with even our local radio station having the moniker of The Kingdom FM.

Anyway, this is us in red, an apt colour for the map as one of the main signifier that you are indeed in the Kingdom is our red tiled roof known as pantiles.

In the many picturesque fishing villages that dot our coastline you can see this regional architectural detail of cheery red-tiled roofs, as in this image of the harbour at Anstruther (home of the award-winning Best Fish & Chip Shop 2008/9).  There is as much leisure craft as there are fishing vessels in these small towns as their close proximity to both St. Andrew’s and Edinburgh make them very popular tourist destinations.

So how did these tiles become so popular in a country so dominated by slate (historically thatch) roofs?  As you can see from this map Fife is much more conveniently situated for trade with the northern European countries such as the Netherlands that it would be to say, the Mediterranean or the new world.

And for several centuries before the joining of the crowns of Scotland and England (see Guy Fawkes Night), Scotland, and the area of Fife in particular, had its own rich trading links with the Low Countries.  Out would go our coal, wool, linen and salt, and on the return journey the ships hulls would be filled with the red pantiles as ballast.  These intrepid traders were clearly influenced by their Flemish neighbours and as their ships were full of the stuff anyway, they decided to incorporate some of the nifty roof work back home (maybe traditional thatched roof were becoming passée).

This is a an amazingly preserved village close to me called Culross (pronounced coo-ros), founded by Saint Serf in the 6th century. (Saint Serf was to have given shelter to the unmarried but pregnant princess who later became Saint Enoch, and together they then married and raised her son who was to become Saint Kentigern or Saint Mungo. He, in turn went on to found Glasgow – beat that in your xmas card babe!)  It is here that you can still see some of  the original examples of this Flemish influence in the red pantiles and crow stepped gable ends on the buildings.

During the 16th and 17th centuries Culross was in its heyday boasting wealth from international trade in its coal (from the world first under-sea coal mine built in 1575) salt from panning and a monopoly in small iron girdles used for baking over an open fire. Its fortunes fell fast during the 18th century as the harbour was filled in, and by Victorian times it was totally cut off from access to the open sea by the construction of the coastal railway.  By the late 19th century it was a ghost town and was only “rescued” from obliteration by the National Trust for Scotland who have been working on its preservation from the 1930s.

While not every building is roofed with pantiles, as in the town hall – which has also served as a courthouse and prison (the window beneath the clock face is rumoured to be where they kept the witches before trials – happy days),

many buildings, both municipal and residential do still sport their snazzy red roofs.

This regional feature is so associated with the area that even new buildings often incorporate it into modern construction.  The drawing on the left is a sample from a Barrett home built down south in Manchester (with its presumably regional mock Tudor details) and the same home by the same builder as it exists in Fife.

Whilst these tiles are designed to live their lives on the rooftops, many have taken flight over the last few weeks in our extraordinarily intense storms.  While many were weakened from our major snowstorms last year, it was the double whammy of our naughtily named Hurricane Bawbag of the 5th of December and our way more scary unnamed storm of the 3rd of January this year that have delivered us a serious hammering.  With gusts of wind at 165 mph and 102 mph respectively, we sat huddled in our homes while the winds battered us and sent our beloved regional roof bits flying.  (She’s breaking up Cap’t and she cannae take any more!)

So we have taken to gathering the bits of our rooftops from our neighbours yards and surveying the damage just about everywhere in sight.  Additionally, we can while away the last of our winter holidays sifting through the dozens of  form letters pushed through our mail slot from concerned roofing companies (who must surely be licking their chops about now) about how sorry they are to see the damage we have sustained and to please call them if they can be of any help.

http://www.historic-scotland.gov.uk/informguide-pantiles.pdf

But me?  I am going old skool and resorting to my handy copy of Historic Scotland’s primer on maintaining a pantiled roof.  If there is one thing about living in such an old country with so much history, you do learn to just deal with what comes and count the blessings of what you still have, or as they say here, “Och, wheest an get oan wae it”.  Cause winds or no, the red roofs will remain one of Fife’s most distinctive features.

Stay warm & dry!

Jan 08, 2012 | 0 comments View Post
Stac Lee and Stac an Armin, with the Island of Boreray to the right

St. Kilda


Many thanks to our new contributor Colin Muir for this first hand account of his visit to St. Kilda.  Colin works as a Stone Conservator at Historic Scotland and also specialises in close range 3D scanning of many of Scotland’s treasures. Smarty-pants extraordinaire, smok’n babe and my hubby, and you can read more about some of his “official” works here at the Historic Scotland’s “Scottish Ten” Link http://www.scottishten.org/index/scotten/property3/orkneycloserangeblog.htm.

As the winter storms start to batter Scotland (a near record gust of 165mph was recorded in the Grampian Mountains last week) it serves as a reminder of just how cosseted we are from the realities of the natural world by central heating, running water and electric lighting.  Not so our hardy forbears, and least of all those almost mythic inhabitants of St. Kilda, Britain’s most remote corner. I was fortunate enough to visit this memorable place in September of this year, just before the end of ‘the season’. (By October the visitors are too scarce, and the seas too dangerous to justify a seven-hour long, round-trip by boat that still may not manage to achieve a landing.)

The St. Kilda Island Location

Little known outside of Scotland, the St Kilda archipelago holds a special place in the Scottish psyche, in part due to it’s remoteness and also the incredibly hardy and self-sufficient nature of its inhabitants.  For over 3,000 years this harsh and isolated location had supported human habitation, and is today one of only 28 locations in the world to hold world heritage status for it built heritage as well as its terrestrial and marine environments.

Stac Lee and Stac an Armin, with the Island of Boreray to the right

This summer I found myself working on the island of Harris in the Outer Hebrides, tantalisingly close to fulfilling one of my life’s quests – to land on Hirta, the once inhabited island within the St Kilda group. This is a goal that has become something of a secular pilgrimage for Scots of a wistful and hardy nature, as the islanders had been regarded as an extraordinary, and even “heroic” community.

From alpine peaks and pinnacles to 1600ft seacliffs

 There is no easy way to the island – it’s either by small boat, cruise ship or if in the military – helicopter. All of which are subject to be turned back at the very last moment by the extremes of weather that scour the ragged peaks and cliffs of these islands. Apparently the islands’ jagged demeanour is the result of having avoided the grinding glaciation that shaped the distinctive features of the rest of Scotland.

St Kildans on the Street, 1886

Human existence on these isolated, tree-less fists of land was entirely dependent on the abundance of seabirds, and it has been accurately termed a  “bird-culture”. The islands are a summer home to in excess of a million birds, with as many as 210 species having been recorded. Indeed a quarter of the GLOBAL gannet population nest in the area. It was said that in 1876 around 89,600 puffins alone were harvested for food and feathers; that does not take into account the fulmars and gannets that were also principle elements of the St Kildan daily diet.

The Puffin, the Fulmar, and the Gannet; staples of the St Kildan diet

These seabirds were snared and captured from the cliffs by barefoot islanders, and their eggs harvested for additional nutrition. They were the source of oil, as well as down and feathers. These by-products provided for a meagre subsistence economy and a modicum of trade.

An attacking ‘Bonxie’, or Arctic Skua; an aggressive ‘kleptoparasite’

The St Kildans rarely ate fish; as the fishing in the surrounding seas was considered poor, and extremely hazardous – they also preferred the taste of birds. Since the majority of birds migrated over the winter, those caught had to be carefully stored and dried to last through to the spring. To facilitate this, the islanders built in excess of 1300 ‘cleits’ of varying forms and functions; to shelter in, store provisions and dry birds. These unique dry-stone built structures pepper the island from Village Bay to near the summits of the highest peaks.

‘Cleits’ and dry-stone work as far as the eye can see.

The history of human habitation on the islands is complex and too rich to abridge here. However Martin Martin, who visited the islands in 1697 and wrote the first detailed description of the people and their customs adjudged them “.. much happier than the generality of mankind, as being almost the only people in the world who feel the sweetness of true liberty”. Ironically however, recent research has found evidence that this isolated community, long held to be the epitome of a natural, sustainable and holistic lifestyle, at one with its surroundings, may eventually have succumbed from their peculiarly waste-free lifestyle. The population dwindled as greater contact with the outside world led some to leave and the traditional skills that supported the islanders survival diminished. The community was susceptible to high infant-mortality, outbreaks of disease and became increasingly less self sufficient, to the point that it was finally unsustainable. In 1930 the remaining 36 islanders were, at their own request, evacuated.

The Remains of Village Bay

It is now believed that a contributing factor may have been that the islanders’ suffered from the gradual contamination of their homes and fields with heavy metals, from their continuous use of burnt bird remains. This was used as fertiliser in the narrow fields, and the ash as a flooring material in their homes. The fish on which the birds gorged had themselves ingested naturally occurring heavy metals from the surrounding sea. With each step in the food chain these concentrations were magnified, further compounded by generations of agricultural use on the same small areas of tillable land.

The Village and ‘Fields’

One tale in particular highlights the rigours and tragedy of the St Kildan’s way of life, and their almost superhuman hardiness, and is one of remarkable human survival. In 1727 three men and eight boys were dropped off on the near vertical  ‘Stac an Armin’ (at over 600ft high, the highest sea stack in Britain) on a bird-hunting expedition that was intended to last a couple of days before the boat came to retrieve them from the pinnacle.

Stac an Armin

However, the boat did not return. In the interim the islanders on Hirta had been afflicted by a smallpox epidemic that was to leave only one adult and eighteen children alive. None of those that survived were able to handle a boat on such a perilous voyage, and most tantalising of all – the Stac was in clear view from the top of the main Island of Hirta. The men and boys were only finally rescued when the Factor (the landlord’s agent and rent collector) had come for his annual payment, found the island all but empty, and heard of their plight. They had all survived through pounding Atlantic storms, and the cold of a Scottish winter, on nothing but rainwater and dried seabirds for an astonishing nine months! After such an ordeal it must have been a tragically bitter sweet rescue for them to then hear that almost all their loved ones and neighbours had perished in their absence.

Stac an Armin and Boreray, seen from Hirta

Whilst a journey to St Kilda today is still an uncertain one, liable to be cancelled at the last moment, or turned back within sight of the island by treacherous conditions, it is one very much recommended. I travelled with these good folk and would recommend them highly http://www.seaharris.co.uk

(check out their gallery in particular).  It’s a journey that certainly fills you with admiration for the early peoples that not only braved this crossing in much more rudimentary craft, but also managed to thrive in an environment both harsh and beautiful. It is a vigourous, fresh world of wind-scoured moors and salt-sprayed cliffs that, that when blessed with a shard of sunshine, feels like an Eden on the edge of the world. Most importantly it’s a place that lingers in the memory and the soul of all that experience it.

 

 

 

Dec 20, 2011 | 1 comment View Post
Carnegie - Dunfermine's "Most Famous Son"

Carnegie – Dunfermline’s Homeboy

Whether you pronounce it Carr-niggy (like the Yanks) or Carn-egg-ghee (with equal accent on all three syllables as it is locally)  most people know at least a little bit about Andrew Carnegie, Dunfermline’s “Most Famous Son”.   What may not be as well-known is how connected he stayed to his local roots and how his generosity still contributes to the daily lives of all those who live in Dunfermline.

Andrew Carnegie – Dunfermline’s “Most Famous Son”
Andrew Carnegie was born here in Dunfermline in a typical weavers cottage to William Carnegie and Margaret Morrison (mother’s maiden name is important so please take note).

Carnegie's Cottage - The Door & Windows on the Left - Not the Whole Building

Below is the actual room in which he was born.  His brother and parents would live, cook, play and sleep in this space, and his mother would wind bobbins to drop through the floor to where her husband worked in the main room below.  To the right of the open door is a double bed that fills the remainder of the room.

Room Where Carnegie was born 25 November 1835

I was not actually in the room itself but a step back from the doorway in order to take this picture – cosy, eh? (And I think my kids are always underfoot when they are cooped up during the winter.)

“Main” Room of Carnegie Cottage Where His Father Worked on a Hand Loom Weaving Damask Linen
His father worked in this room on a hand-loom, weaving Damask Linen for which Dunfermline was famed in the early 19th century.  In addition to weaving, both his father’s and mother’s families were very involved in radical political views including; campaigning for a parliamentary electoral system, Catholic emancipation and even had family that had participation in the “Meal Riots” of the 1770s that swept Europe.
Looking from “Main Room” into the neighbours “Main Room” who was also a weaver

The life of a weaver and his family would not have been and easy one, and would have been a noisy, cramped and exhausting existence.  Now for all my affection for the place, when you say to someone that you live in Dunfermline -  even today – you  are not automatically met with the sharp intake of breath and the narrowing of the eyes that would signal the thought, “oh, you lucky devil”  in the mind of your conversant.   Back in young Carnegie’s day I could only imagine how challenging (and cold) it would have been.

Misty view from inside Pittencrieff Park looking toward the Abbey

To add insult to injury, right next door to the cottage sits 76 acres of the most glorious cultivated landscape known as Pittencreiff Park and The Glen.  In Carnegie’s’ youth the grounds of the property included the Palace at Dunfermline (another story for another day) and Dunfermline Abbey, as well as the land known as Pittencrieff Estate and Glen.

Like most private estates the land was not open to the public, but the fact that it also had encroached onto land that had been monastic and now excluded people from the additional sites that were considered national treasures was too much for some.  Carnegie’s uncle Tom “Bailie”  Morrison eventually applied  for a court order to grant access to the public - for one day a year - and was successful.  However in doing so, he so enraged the Laird of Pittencrieff, Colonel James  Hunt, that he too secured a court order that no Morrison was EVER to be allowed onto his estate.  Thus, Carnegie as the nephew of a Morrison was legally and permanently banned from the grounds.

View from Carnegie’s front door to the Abbey, Palace & Glen from which he was banned.
By 1848, the rise of industrial looms and worsening economic times in Scotland saw the Carnegie family heading off for better fortune in America, specifically Allegheny City, Pennsylvania.  From this point Carnegie’s story is more well-known.  The “rags to riches” story of a young immigrant who worked his way up from bobbin boy to telegraph operator, and eventually becoming synonymous with steel, railroads and a “Captain of Industry” of the newly industrial America.  Even though his wealth was garnered not without some grave controversy, such as the Homestead strikes of 1892,  his philanthropic works were becoming legendary.
In 1895, as a surprise 60th birthday present, Carnegie’s wife purchased the original Carnegie cottage in Dunfermline. (What to get for the man with everything ?)  Perhaps it was being able to revisit his physical origins,  or maybe it was something that burned in him deeper and longer, that even though he could afford (amongst his many other residences) his Scottish summer retreat of Skibo Castle,
Not too shabby, Skibo Castle stayed in the Carnegie Family until 1982. Now a super posh private golf club and can be hired for weddings like Madonna & Guy Ritchie
the thing he craved to own above all else was this – the key to Pittencreiff Estate – from which he was STILL banned.

Key to Pittencrieff Park

FINALLY, in 1902 Carnegie purchased Pittencreiff Estate and Glen, with the express intent of turning it over to the people of Dunfermline, so “that the toiling mases may know sweetness and light”.  He did retain actual ownership of the Tower House as with it came the inherited title of  ”Laird of Pittencreiff”, and so at 67 years of age he took his first stroll amongst the grounds he had been denied entrance in his youth.

Pittencrieff Tower House, Ownership of which made Carnegie "Laird of Pittencrieff" in 1902

True to his word, in 1903 a caretaker was installed and the Carnegie Dunfermline Trust was created to manage and maintain the cottage, and the former estate for the public. In Carnegie’s own words, ”No gift I have made or ever can make can possibly approach that of Pittencrieff Glen”, also adding it as “the most soul-satisfying public gift I ever made or ever can make – to the people of Dunfermline”.  Now, I read this on plaque  in the park on one my first visits and recall thinking – oh isn’t that nice.  Now that I understand a bit more about his back story I realise that this gift must have meant so very much more to him.
Pittencreiff Park is deserving of its own entry so I will wrap it up by pointing out that in addition to giving Dunfermline one of its greatest resources of  ”The Glen” as it is now know locally, Carnegie also provided for a free public library, public swimming baths and a wide variety of other great additions to his hometown.

Gates to Pittencrieff Park at the Bottom Of Dunfermline High Street, donated by Louise Carnegie in 1928

A few additions to the Glen came after his death in 1919, all at the instruction of his wife Louise.  She commissioned the impressive iron gates that mark the entrance to Pittencreiff Park at the bottom of Dunfermline’s High Street,  and also the Birthplace Museum now connected to the original weavers cottage.
Carnegie Birthplace Museum, Connected to the Original Cottage and Opened to the Public in 1928
Admission is free and there is still loads to see (I didn’t give it all away), so it is well  worth a trip.
PS This is not an advertisement, just me having a blether.
Jun 17, 2011 | 1 comment View Post
The Bruce

The Bruce

When we left Edinburgh city centre for our current location, I was veeeeerrrryyy pregnant with my second child and we were simply looking for more space at a reasonable price.  What we have found since our move is that Dunfermline ROCKS!!!  For instance, look who is buried practically in my backyard – Robert the Bruce, King of the Scots from 1306-1329.
Burial Site of Robert the Bruce

For anyone who has seen the movie Braveheart ( and you all should even though Mel Gibson is yuck), Robert the Bruce was this guy, played by Angus MacFayden.

Actor Angus MacFadyen - Braveheart

 Anyway, he is buried here at Dunfermline Abbey right up the toon from where I stay.  This Abbey was founded in 1128 and but was built upon on earlier monastic establishment dating back to 1053-93 during the reign of Malcolm Canmore (which literally means Big Head). It was one of the wealthiest Benedictine monasteries, but alas was sacked in 1560 – hey ho.

Dunfermline Abbey

During the 19th century the abbey was renovated and the zippy stonework added to herald the great King’s location.

Victorian Addition to Abbey "Bruce" "King"

 Although his body is local to me, his heart is not.  Upon his death he requested that his heart be removed and taken into battle on a crusade.  This was partly to make up for not going on a crusade himself (rather like being a draft dodger in his day, but he was very busy to be fair) and also to atone for that wee murder of his rival for the throne of John Comyn – oops.

Burial Site of The Bruce's Heart

Quick confession – without knowing what this was at the time, my then 15 month old daughter thought this was a fab resting place for her tired sight-seeing bum.  There are no markings to identify its importance so I plead ignorance to such a faux pas!

His heart did make it into battle at the Moorish Kingdom of Granada, where both its guardian James Douglas and the heart casket were found on the battlefield. 

Melrose Abbey
The heart is now buried at the beautiful Melrose Abbey in the Borders, confirmed by Archaeologists that inspected the small lead casket to find it did indeed contain a human heart and reburied it in 1998.
Statue of Robert the Bruce with the Wallace Monument in the Distance – Stirling

In a nutshell, there is an incredible amount of super cool  history and artifacts that are everywhere in Scotland.  This is just one of the many bits that are a stones throw from where I reside.

May 15, 2011 | 1 comment View Post