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“In Scotland, when people congregate, they tend to argue and discuss and reason; in Orkney, they tell stories.”

George Mackay Brown

There are many stories in and about Orkney – covering a great span of history. From the distant Neolithic past we moved forward to the last century.

During both the first and second world wars the natural deep water harbour that is encompassed by the Orkney islands – Scapa Flow – was a haven to the British Home Fleet. At the end of the Great War it also hosted 74 ships of the surrendered German fleet as the armistice negotiations dragged on. Believing that its ships would be handed over to other European nations the German commander – Rear Admiral Ludwig von Reuter – gave the command to scuttle the entire fleet in the Flow. A total of 52 ships went to the seafloor and this remains the greatest loss of shipping ever recorded in a single day.

Many of these ships were subsequently raised, not least because of the value of the steel therein. All steel produced since the Trinity atomic bomb tests in 1946 has exhibited a higher than previous level of background radiation as a result of the raised levels in the oxygen used in the smelting process. For some applications – such as the manufacture of medical scanners – this is not optimal, though since surface testing was stopped the levels have, apparently, been slowly falling again.

In the second world war the British battleship, Royal Oak, was sunk by German U boat, U-47, which had contrived to avoid the defences and to penetrate the Flow. Churchill immediately ordered the construction of further barriers to prevent any future such ingress, the which were constructed by Italian prisoners of war. Being a long way from home (and from their familiar Mediterranean climate) these captives asked – and were granted – permission to convert a Nissen hut into a chapel. This has subsequently been restored and is the subject of these photos:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidWhilst on this religious theme I should mention Orkney’s lovely cathedral – St. Magnus – which can be found in Kirkwall.

The story of St. Magnus is an interesting example of the intersection between a narrative – in the form of one or more written sagas – and what is recognised by the church to be historical and ‘religious’ truth. It seems inevitable that versimilitude lies somewhere between, but different folk clearly take from the different elements that which they need the most.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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“The Orkney imagination is haunted by time.”

George Mackay Brown

Right from the start of of our Scotland trip planning The Girl made a strong case for including a visit to Orkney. Neither of us had been there and her long-standing interest in ancient history marked the island group as a ‘must see’. Orkney is a long way north and getting there and back in a timely fashion – as well, of course, as seeing the sights – is quite a challenge.

What eventually made this part of the trip possible was finding ‘Shorelands’ – a B & B that is also a tour organiser. The excellent Nicky – the proprietor – picked us up from (and dropped us back to) the ferry at Stromness, entertained us splendidly at their place in Kirkwall and took us on a full day’s guided tour of all of the essential sights on the Orkney mainland.

Those from BC will be feel right at home with the most common method of reaching Orkney:

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

These photos are of Skara Brae – an incredibly well preserved Neolithic village that was revealed during a storm in 1850. It is older than Stonehenge and the Great Pyramids of Giza.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidI recall – all of fifty years ago now – my father returning from a trip to Scotland with a guidebook to Skara Brae, the which I devoured eagerly. So taken was I with the idea of this Neolithic village rediscovered that I wrote an instrumental piece inspired thereby for the first band that I was in. Sometime later we were playing a local gig at which my father was present. As I announced the piece, explaining its origins, a familiar voice called out from the back of the hall:

”You haven’t been there!”

Well – I have now…!

There are many Neolithic remains on Orkney. This henge and stone circle is the Ring of Brodgar:

To our great surprise this group had come to the ring for a somewhat blustery wedding ceremony!

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidMore on Orkney next time…

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThis is the morning view from our converted byre in the north west corner of Skye. The couple who converted it live in the wee But and Ben in the photo (actually not so wee!) the which they also converted.

As trailed in yesterday’s post, we are taking a few days to breathe out – to review where we have been and what we have done and to place it all into some larger context.

When we started planning our trip to Caledonia we each had our own agendas. The Girl was keen to revisit places and sights that she had experienced once before on her only previous trip to Scotland. I was eager to see if I could expand the sense of a link to my ancestors that I had originally been gifted by my father – who was always most proud of his Scottish heritage.

So – here we are, about half way through our expedition and this is probably a good opportunity to give some thought to how successful (or otherwise) we have been in achieving our objectives thus far.

When we picked up our hire car in Edinburgh and headed for the highlands we took a brief detour to visit Roslynn Chapel, the which had particularly struck The Girl on her previous trip. Visitors are not allowed to take photos of the wonderful and surprising interior carvings for which the chapel is renowned, so I am instead offering the reader a link to the chapel’s website:

Home

Needless to say, the chapel worked its magic as anticipated.

Our initial sojourn in the highlands found us in a beautifully and thoughtfully converted Air B & B in Pitlochry. This little hideaway – over the garage of a guest house – was wonderfully peaceful and ideally placed for excursions to a variety of sites nearby that I had visited many times back in the day on family holidays.

The Girl and I visited Blair Atholl (and its castle), Bruar (where yet can be found our clan museum) and Old Struan (home to the clan church). The weather was overcast and still quite chilly at this point so photographic opportunities were somewhat limited. These are of Blair Castle – home to the Dukes of Atholl and to Europe’s only private army!

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

We also visited the pass of Killiecrankie and replicated much of a walk that was a regular and much loved feature of our family holidays in Perthshire.

Herewith a few photos:

This promontory is Soldier’s Leap, so named because – in the rout that followed the Battle of Killiecrankie in 1689 – one of the fleeing redcoat soldiers is reputed to have leapt 18 feet across the Garry river to escape the pursuing Jacobites.

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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Well – we made it to Scotland in one piece – although the journey was not entirely trouble free. A three hour delay to our flight from Vancouver to London meant we had to catch a later flight to Edinburgh, which meant that we reached our apartment there at about 11:00pm, after 24 hours of travel.

The Girl had found us a splendid National Trust apartment right on the Royal Mile in the old town:

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

The only downside was that the apartment is on the fifth floor and we had to get our heavy suitcases up this staircase:

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid

It is a good thing that I work out!

We spent a splendid couple of days in Edinburgh before heading for the Highlands. Here are some images:

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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“Traveling – it leaves you speechless, then turns you into a storyteller.”

Ibn Battuta

Almost exactly eleven months ago The Girl and I set out on the journey that is not to be mentioned. Since then my only contact with airlines and airports has been to drop off or to pick up those who have themselves been traveling.

The Girl took a much needed break in Mexico at the end of last year, but I was teaching and could not abandon my students. Since then all of the excursions that have taken place have featured her alone. The new job (concerning which I will shortly be able to divulge more) has taken her – since the New Year – to New Westminster, Vancouver, Kamloops (twice), to Seattle, to Prince George and – most recently – to Fort St. John (practically up in the Arctic circle!). That’s a lot of running around…

Now, though, it is finally time for us both to set forth together again on an expedition that has already been trailed in these postings. We leave in a few days time for Scotland – land of my forefathers – for three weeks of touring.

I liked the Ibn Battuta quote that heads this piece not only for its astute reflection on the manner in which foreign lands can initially overtake one’s power of speech, but also for the notion that we return from such expeditions laden with incidents, encounters and experiences which we are just bursting to share with the world. We are able to do this through the medium of storytelling – in any of its various forms. The subject has been in my mind a fair bit of late because Anam Danu’s recent musical creations have included meditations on the importance and relevance of storytelling. That may well indeed prove to be the key topic of our nascent album (regarding which much more later)…

I feel moved to include here a second quotation – this time from Rainer Maria Rilke (a poet whom I have long admired most highly) from the ninth of his Duino Elegies.

For when the traveler returns from the mountain-slopes into the valley, he brings, not a handful of earth, unsayable to others, but instead some word he has gained, some pure word, the yellow and blue gentian. Perhaps we are here in order to say: house, bridge, fountain, gate, pitcher, fruit-tree, window – at most: column, tower. . . . But to say them, you must understand, oh to say them more intensely than the Things themselves ever dreamed of existing“.

More scribblings – and images – to follow…

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Just a few short months ago – back in August – I waxed lyrical in a post on these very pages on the subject of the delights and pleasures that we anticipated would be associated with the then upcoming 2023 Rugby World Cup.

This gripping competition has now arrived at the sharp end – with the quarter final matches having taken place this weekend just passed and with only the semis and the final to come.

The gentle reader may be wondering – therefore – why there has been a stony silence in these quarters on the subject since that last posting. Have we not been enjoying the splendid matches with which we have been regaled by the French hosts?

Well – yes, we have. There has been much joyous and exciting play at all levels of the competition – and some great games. It is truly wonderful to see the progress that has been made by a number of the Tier 2 sides.

The tournament has, however, been somewhat tarnished by the fact that – because the draw which resulted in the seeding for the competition was made more than three years ago – a number of sides have found themselves at a considerable disadvantage in terms of their current strengths. I have already made mention of the fact that the poor Scots (before the tournament ranked as number 5 in the world) found themselves in a pool which also included the world’s number 1 side – the Irish – and the number 3 side (and current world champions)- the South Africans. Other sides with considerably lower rankings found themselves in relatively easy pools.

I lamented in my previous post that the Scots would need to play out of their skins to get out of the pool stages – the which they duly failed to do.

This might just sound like the gripings of a sore loser, but the lop-sided nature of the draw has had other and greater effects. For example, the current top four sides in the world – the Irish, the All Blacks, the Saffers and the French might have expected to meet each other in a pair of titanic semi-finals, yielding two worthy contenders for the final. The latter will certainly still happen, but those two eagerly anticipated encounters actually took place in the quarter finals (Ireland/All Blacks – France/South Africa) and the two semifinals will as a result also include two sides who – with due respect to the Argentinians and to the English – are not playing at anywhere near the same level.

This is frankly disappointing and – whereas it will not in anyway diminish our enjoyment of the tournament – should not be allowed to happen again.

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“RUGBY: No Time-Outs, No Blockers, No Pads = Best Game On Earth!”

When The Girl and I moved to Vancouver Island eight years ago and purchased our lovely home on the Saanich peninsula, one of the first things we did in our new abode was to watch the key matches in the 2015 Rugby World Cup – the which was taking place at that time back in the old country.

Now – as is often the way with such sporting events, the Rugby World Cup takes place every four years; the next tournament was thus held in 2019 – in Japan.

Now, this all means – you’ve got it! – 2023 is also a Rugby World Cup year! This year’s eagerly awaited event kicks off in September and is being hosted by the French. I will doubtless be posting more on the subject as the competition approaches.

What is happening at this point, however, is that the national sides that made it through the qualification rounds to the finals are currently engaged in warm-up matches and we are all watching keenly, looking for clues as to form and potential. This is rendered considerably more tricky by the sides taking the opportunity to experiment with squads and tactics, making it difficult to gauge exactly how each team is progressing.

The Scots (in whom, as you doubtless know, I have an interest) have now played two warm-up matches, the first against Italy (a slightly unconvincing but nonetheless welcome victory) followed by the first of two games against France, who are one of the favourites to lift the trophy in a couple of month’s time.

This match was at Murrayfield and – as expected – the French fielded what was essentially a second string side. Given the overall strength of their squad, however, such matters are somewhat immaterial – as was rapidly demonstrated by the powerful French side storming out to a 21 – 3 lead at half time.

The Scots – having clearly been on the end of some strong words during the break – came back at the start of the second half with a try of their own, but were shortly thereafter reduced to fourteen men following the sending off of prop, Zander Fagerson, for a dangerous clear-out that resulted in a head impact.

There would have been a time when the Scots would have folded, but this cohort are made of sterner stuff. in spite of being a man down they took the game to the French, scored two further good tries, before the nerveless Finn Russell slotted the penalty that won the Scots the game.

Though this was all most exciting and great to see, the Scots really are going to be up against it as things progress. Not only do they have a return warmup fixture this coming weekend in St. Etienne against the French first VI, but once the tournament proper starts in a few weeks time the Scots will have a serious battle to make it out of the group stages, facing – as the draw has most cruelly handed them – both South Africa and Ireland – who, along with France and the All Blacks, make up the top four seeds.

Ouch!

Still, we Scots are expecting – and hoping for – great things!

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Huzzah!

Image by <a href=" https://www.vectorportal.com" >Vectorportal.com</a>,  <a class="external text" href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/" >CC BY</a>It is not often that one gets to celebrate happy occurrences two days running. This just happens to be one of those occasions.

In my last post I announced the long-awaited arrival last Friday of my shiny new Canadian passport.

Hurrah” – says I!…

Then – on the very next day – Scotland triumphed at Twickenham over the auld enemy in the Calcutta Cup.

Hurrah and twice hurrah” – I cry!…

Yes – it is that splendid weekend at the start of an otherwise gloomy February when the Northern Hemisphere’s greatest sporting event – the Six Nations Rugby tournament – kicks off. This year – being a Rugby World Cup year – promises to be particularly exciting, with the current top two sides in world Rugby – the Irish and the French – taking part. Both sides started with an away win – the Irish convincingly at the Principality in Cardiff – the latter rather more tenuously in Rome against the Azzuri.

The final match was the aforementioned Calcutta Cup clash between Scotland and England at Twickenham. There was a time – not so long ago – that the Scots routinely took a drubbing at the Cabbage Patch. Indeed, one had to look back a long way to find any Scots wins at all. Of late and for the moment, however, the worm has turned. Scotland have won the last three such encounters – including consecutive wins away from home. This is splendid stuff! Over the last six years the English have won once – there was a magnificent 38-38 draw at Twickers – and the remaining four wins have gone north of the border.

So far, so good. However, the Scots are all too aware that they have not, of late, been able to follow up these excellent wins with consistent results elsewhere. Now – no-one is expecting them to beat either the Irish or the French this year, but wins against the struggling Welsh and the greatly improved Italians would be most welcome.

Fingers – etc – firmly crossed and many pious invocations to the rugby gods duly rendered…

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Image by <a href="https://pixabay.com/users/radfotosonn-8242629/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3204680">Radfotosonn</a> from <a href="https://pixabay.com/?utm_source=link-attribution&amp;utm_medium=referral&amp;utm_campaign=image&amp;utm_content=3204680">Pixabay</a>…as they say… ain’t what it used ter be!

Or… maybe, actually, it is!

Now – my last post offered you more nostalgia to come – and come it will, but events have conspired (as they so often do) to disrupt our good intentions and in this case to cause a slight nostalgia hiatus…

…though – actually – this substitute post also in some ways concerns that very same subject.

Enough with the cryptic references already!” – I hear you cry.

Fair enough. On with the show…

It seems but a few short weeks back that I was celebrating the fact that the Scots had just defeated the English at Twickenham in the first round of this year’s Six Nations Championship. This was a feat that they had not achieved for some thirty eight years and was thus cause for considerable jubilation.

My next post on the subject of Scottish rugby was a great deal less cheery and documented the sad loss at home by but a single point to Wales – and the further miserable loss, also at home, by a mere three points to the Irish. That post was titled ‘Same Old, Same Old‘ with good reason. In that post I also mentioned the postponed Scotland/France game – as a result of the French frankly playing fast and loose with the COVID lock-down guidelines.

On what should have been the final weekend of the tournament last weekend I could not raise the enthusiasm to discuss the Scots beating the Italians by a handsome margin (because that is what everybody else had done as well) and nor did I refer (drawing, in fact, a discreet veil over the matter) to the English losing to Ireland and thus ending the tournament in fifth place. The Welsh failed to beat the French in Paris and thus did not win a Grand Slam, but the outcome of the chamionship was left hanging: if France could beat the Scots in their rescheduled encounter (which took place today) by a certain amount they and not the Welsh would win the title.

OK – to cut a long story short – not only did the French fail to reach the necessary target but the Scots matched them throughout the game and – courtesy of a little unnecessary French generosity at the end – sneaked the win, 27 – 23. This was the first time that Scotland had beaten France in Paris since they famously did so in 1999 – the last year of the Five Nations before it became six.

Not only does this mean that Wales did eventually take the title (congrats!) but also the Scots have now within the last year broken their hoodoo on winning away games – and  have beaten the Welsh (last autumn), the English and the French on their respective home soils.

Now that is cause for celebration (particularly if you are  a Scot)!

Slàinte mhat!

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Same old, same old
(Informal)

“Used to say that a situation or someone’s behaviour remains the same, especially when it is boring or annoying:”

Cambridge Dictionary

I started to look back over some of the earliest of the posts to this online journal – to those composed in early 2012 – thinking to re-discover the very first occasion within these scribblings upon which I reluctantly drew attention to my ongoing and painful support for the Scottish rugby XV!

I recall bemoaning the fact that being a follower of these tartan-toting sportsmen involved endlessly repeated rounds of rose-tinted and entirely unreasonable optimism – followed rapidly by by dejection and misery when the Scots yet again failed to live up to the unwarranted expectation.

It is almost worse when they actually start to look as though they know what they are doing – to exhibit some flair for the game – to unearth at last at least one truly world-class talent… At that point they catch the eye of those commentators who would dearly love to see a challenge to the boring prospect of any of the other home nations yet again lifting the annual trophy – and would happily pay good money to watch the Scots rekindle the flame of 1990 (yes – it was that long ago that the Scots famously beat England at Murrayfield to win their last Grand Slam).

(In a small aside at this point I must make reference to an opportunity sadly lost! For the last years of my employ at my last school in the UK before ‘retiring’, the headship of the institution was in the capable hands of a man who – amongst his other obvious talents – had played rugby for England. As it happens the Calcutta Cup fixture in 1990 – in which both Scotland and England had the chance of taking the Grand Slam – was his last match in international colours for England. I always meant to tease him about it but never quite plucked up the courage so to do).

This melancholy musing naturally reflects Scotland’s performance thus far in this year’s Six Nations tournament. I wrote of the famous win against the odds at Twickenham but a few short weeks back but have since been silent on the matter within these pages. One need not search too hard to discover why. The Scots lost by a single point to the Welsh at Murrayfield – having at one stage been well in front before having a man sent off. The French game was then postponed because of positive COVID tests amongst the French squad. Finally – this very morning the Scots lost once again at Murrayfield… this time by a mere three points to the Irish. To be honest the Scots did not deserve to win today. Their line-out barely functioned and they gave away far too many needless penalties.

Where the Scots are concerned it is yet again a sad case of ‘Same old, same old’!

As I said at the top of this post – I started to look back to see when it was that I very first mentioned the painful predicament of supporting Scottish rugby…

…but then I lost the will to live!…

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