4 out of 6 Times on the Water of Leith

On Tuesday I arrived in Edinburgh to visit David and family but with the intention of seeing Anthony Gormleys metal men that he has scattered along the length of the Water of Leith from the modern art gallery down to Leith docks under the title of 6 Times. Since I was in Princes Street gardens when the 1 o’clock gun went off and wasn’t due at David’s house until about half 6 I though that this was plenty time.

Unfortunately my geography of that area of Edinburgh is a little vague but I had a rough Idea of where I should be going so off I set, roughly. I eventually struck the Water of Leith around Stockbridge and worked my way back to the art gallery along the river knowing I would have to cover it all again on the way back. The following pictures are in order as if I had walked from the Gallery downstream although some of them were taken while walking upstream to the gallery.

The first of the pieces isn’t actually on the river but is outside the gates of the gallery.

This otter statue is very difficult to see - I thought it was an old bin bag at first

St Bernards Mineral Well

The path along the Water of Leith is not continuous and to my mind not well signposted. Anyway, about a quarter of a mile along from Stockbridge it disappeared so I struck inland with the intention of joining it a little further along. For the seasoned tracker, used to finding his way by snapped branches, deer spoor and the direction of the sun, it’s going to be a problem finding your way in a cloudy Edinburgh so I asked directions from a red haired Irish lady with a greyhound. Unfortunately, although her directions were very accurate for the question I had asked, I was by that time pointing in completely the wrong direction. I found a nice little park to follow the river with but was somewhat disturbed when I spotted St Bernard’s mineral well again, only this time on the other side of the river and about an hour later than the last time I had seen it. On top of this the park that I had wandered into was a private park so I found it quite locked with high glass covered walls so I had to backtrack till I could find my way back out. Alas my tale of lostness doesn’t stop here but to cut a long story as short as I can, once I arrived at Stockbridge High Street for the 3rd time I set of in what I though was right direction, only to arrive back in exactly the same spot in Stockbridge High Street (Come on Stephen Hawkings, what’s it all about). When I eventually got back on route, I completely missed on of the 4th metal men, apparently spotted by an old fellow I met who was much more successfully following Edinburgh’s non existent railways.

So there’s no statue #4 and we go straight to #5

I think some local ned has been at the eyes rather than Mr Gormley - either that or he's been at a little chemical recreation

By this time it was almost 6 o’clock and no hope of getting the couple of miles to the Leith docks statue in reasonable time, so I called it a day. Many thanks to the lady who stopped for a natter here and who happened to know that the No 11 bus went all the way to David’s and told me where the bus stop was. The bus arrived at the stop within a minute of me arriving there and I was only half an hour later than I had expected. A pleasant evening of carry out curry, fiddle and guitar tunes and a bottle of wine was had.

MacCrisps

Some of you may remember my soup review from last year sometime in which I tucked into a tin of haggis soup. Well it was inevitable that sooner or later the crisp people would have a go at it (that's chips to our friends across the pond). I first spotted a packet on a train food trolly but the trolly lady was only prepared to sell me them if I bought them as part of a meal deal along with a sandwich - she didn't have any sandwiches so they were effectively decoration. I spotted some in the supermarket but they only came in one ton bags and as it's impossible to eat half a bag of crisps, no matter what size, I employed a little prudence (not one of my common traits). So three cheers to the local Kirkcudbright deli who amidst the home made jams, local cheeses and expensive continental biscuits, stock haggis crisps. Well, Haggis and cracked black pepper to be precise.

And how were they? None too bad I suppose. Generally savoury, and is you concentrate carefully you can just pick up a little haggissyness going "Yoo Hoo over here ...... no over here". Better they were called Haggisish and cracked black pepper. Back to prawn cocktail for me.

Look how pink our local deli wall is!

Portpatrick folk festival - Part 2

I arrived to find the village rather lacking in recognised faces. This was down to a communication error and I was in the wrong place, all be it at the right time, for Johnny and Rhona's year and a day handfasting. But I stood tight and they all arrived soon enough at the Waterfront for an outside session and a feast of roasted pig - lovely.

Following that most of the rest of the afternoon I spent in the Mount Stuart for a mostly singing sessions with a load of folk I don't know .

Except for Chuffy that is - I've played many a session with him.

Before the concert in the evening, an hour or so spent back at the Waterfront for a few songs with the Luce Women (it's what they call themselves) and other folk, mainly from the Stranraer folk club (who's names I should know as I've met them several times, but I don't (sorry chaps))

My trip to Portpatrick wouldn't be complete without a rendition of the Pirate Song

Portpatrick folk festival - Part 1

Technically this is the beginning of the Portpatrick Folk Festival. At 7 o'clock on the Friday a piper stands out on the rocks and gives us a few tunes for quarter of an hour. By this time I'd got my tent put up, had tea in a cafe in Stranraer with my parents, enjoyed a pint in the company of Jill and Steve and had a good old general wander about town.

I also bumped into the following well travelled character below having a pint of Acme's Best Bitter after a long day of roadrunner hunting (in vain)

Friday evening was spent in the Waterfront Hotel at a session of well mixed mostly familiar songsters and tunesters.

Jill and my father

Mouth organ maestro, Davey, plays a mean Bodhran too.

An unknown flute player

Gus is usually a fiddle player of extravagant style and general panache but turned up with a cello - we wondered how he was going to get it under his chin,

Jill and Steve (part of Mooncoyn - http://www.mooncoyn.co.uk/ )

Jimmy holds back the rabble with nothing but a guitar and a pint of Guinness

The session must have ended round about 1 o'clockish and folk were wandering off. and I had the guitar and mandolin bagged up. But until everyone is finished up there's always that wee ember that can start it all of again, so first of all it was the mandolin out and then the guitar and it was eventually about half past 3 by the time I had wandered up the cliff path by torchlight to my tent.

The dawn pays little attention to the time you got to bed and in a tent there's only so much resistance you can put up to daylight so it was up at the back of 8 for a cuppa and a bacon roll and I was ready for another day.

View from a tent

Tent from a view

When you live in a street with a castle at the end, it's good to have a castle at the bottom of your camp site to make you feel welcome. Perched on edge of a cliff, Dunskey castle has been derelict for the last 300 years.

Ever since I've been to Portpatrick most of the half mile path into the town has been fenced off as it's a touch precarious.

These drops are not completely compatible with often less than sober folkie (oh, not I of course) struggling along with instruments in the darkest part of the night.

It's a pleasant walk on a pleasant if breezy September morning and eventually Portpatrick comes into view.

Sandy Goes West

No blogging for a few days. I've packed up the guitar , mandolin, tent and great tonnage of other stuff and I'm heading West. It's folk festival time at Portpatrick and the weather is still good. See you all when I get back.

Big Art for Kirkcudbright - Days 6 and 7

This is the last sculpture symposium blog before I go off to Port Patrick tomorrow for a couple of days of tunes. When I get back it'll all be officially over - unofficially, Andy in the garden with his elm log will be continuing to carve away a little longer at Billy Marshall and Peter down at the Art shop will be returning to continue with his lump of granite. I don't think that the changes in the last couple of days are so radical that you won't be able to see who's is who's without words from me, so here are some pictures.

Since his main piece is almost complete, Mike works on a wee figure on the side.

Correct use of protective equipment