Menorgical; Special Announcement

No Saturday Stitches today... Partly (mainly) because I have been visiting Aitch and have made very little advancement on current WIPs, and nothing new has been begun...

However, and more importantly, I want to introduce you to someone extra-special. Those of you with FB access can go to CMDucks and check up on Chloe Mae's collection of little pink duckies, which are floating all over the place as part of a feel-good campaign. Read the message here...

The little pinky Aitch and I have been sharing is numbered 6939 (though we haven't established if there are actually over six thousand moving about out there!) We found that 6939 has not been moved about too much recently, so we have decided to take her on a proper adventure over the next three or four weeks.

Aitch (for those looking on FB, you will see Hilary Ritchie) will report on the book of faces, and I am going to use my currently empty Tuesday spot to share pics of 6939 at the places visited. The plan (at the moment) is to take her all the way back to Dunoon with me, via some interesting spots, and then I will leaver her where I know others will take up the next chapter. 

Briefly (and for those like myself who don't row on FB), what Chloe Mae hasn't told us here is that she is only four years old herself, but also that her mummy is now at the inoperable and non-responsive stage with her cancer, which she was diagnosed with in 2016. It has spread throughout and is now in the brain. We send all our Love with the capital 'ell' their way and are honoured to be able to share a little joy by transporting Ducky 6939 around the borders area between England and Scotland and all the way up to the Highland Line.

I will be sending links to the CM posts to Aitch, and she will be sharing those on the FB page, so for those who aren't able to go directly to CMDucks, your responses and love wishes will be seen here and, I am sure, be appreciated. 

Menoodling; A Little Curiosity

While visiting Falkland, I was struck by this doorway...

I mean, we like doorways, don't we? Portals of all varieties hold all sorts of feelings - invitation, comfort... foreboding...

However, it was not so much the door itself that drew me on this occasion. Did you notice it? In the stonework of the lintel? Here's a closer look, just to be clear!

I was mystified. Colour me ignorant - at least at that point. You just know I had to find out, right?!

What got me, once I searched this, was how on earth I could NOT have known about this institution, given it was founded and flourished in Edinburgh. I am reaching the conclusion that even an entire lifetime of familiarity with that city will not reveal all its nooks and crannies to me!

Anyway, the nutshell version is that this 'bank' was founded in the 18th century to further the linen weaving industry in Scotland... but due to the Jacobite uprising the year before foundation, it had to overcome prejudice by using 'British' in the title, with the conciliatory symbolism of the English Rose settled between the two Scots Thistles. Initially, it was a company and limited to the linen commercial benefit, only becoming a bank about fifteen years later. It was eventually bought over by Barclays Bank and later again by the Bank of Scotland.

For the keen ones who wish to know the key points and timeline, this Grace Guide page will satisfy you. For a fuller, more narrative history, good ol' Wikipedia helps out.

On that latter page, I noted that the St Andrew's Square building, which was the headquarters for a long time, does not have the same grandiose stonework lintel. I am intrigued that the Falkland branch did. Then again, the town had been a major centre for linen weaving for many years. I found a page of photos from the factory in the late 19th and early 20th century - one can see how it dominated this small town. In one, you can clearly see the palace building to the left, which gives dimension - if you hover over the images, there's a little more info. It turns out that an extension was made to the factory for producing linoleum. This industry was very big in nearby Kirkcaldy. You can also see some of the linen workers, as well as those taking over the newer works.

Nothing remains of any of those buildings. 

Back at the Linen Bank Wiki page, another image caught my attention. That of the original foundation premises. On biggification, the door lintel yet again intrigued...clearly, after the upgrade to St Andrew's Square, these lads took over the premises. Oliver and Boyd were printers of mainly educational texts and children's books, as well as the annual Edinburgh Almanack. If you feel so inclined, you can have a browse of the 1819 edition at the National Library of Scotland Archive Online!

My penchant for architectural features pulled up some wee gems, eh? (Or are you bored to tears>>>)

Menostipashun; Say What?

As mentioned last week, I spent a few days in Falkland, a fine wee toon in the Kingdom of Fife. Aside from all the cobbly, narrow, and higgledy-piggledy streets (among which are found weavers' cottages from when this used to be a linen weaving centre), the main focal point is Falkland Palace and its grounds. I will return to visit the palace's interior at some point, but on this trip, I simply wanted to be outside and seek out evidence of spring. You will have already seen the video and the many spring flowers, showing I succeeded!

There is an orchard on the other side of that wall and gate. I opted not to walk in there, however, as it was grass only. Having had lots of rain the day before, using the Rolls-later, never mind not really having waterproof shoes, would likely have presented problems. I enjoyed the modern wrought iron work (you'll see another gate in Views) and the trickling of the water.

From here, it was still a little more of a downhill slope through hordes of Narcissus and Scilla Siberica (Wood Squill). A tantalising view of a gazebo drew me forward.

A pleasant five minutes sitting there, before heading over to yonder building... any guesses what's in there before scrolling to the next section?

Here's an interlude shot of the lily ponds that sit at the entrance courtyard of that place.

Did you ponder the purpose of the barn-like exterior? I don't blame you if not. Perhaps the following might bring forth some thoughts.

That last one holds the clearest clue! Now, I will share close-ups of each section for you to read. 

All good and well. The curious among us (and if you've learned anything about the YAMster at all, it's that she loves to follow her curiosity...) will be wondering about the rules and what that court layout is about. Am I right? The following is from the International Real Tennis Professionals Association. 

...and that's just the explanation of the court layout. 😮😬😶

The Rules of RT have 20 categories, all of which can be found on this page of the IRTPA website. 

Constipation of the brain, anyone??? And this isn't even my FFF offering for the month. 

Me-No-Owerit; Fighting Fear-bruary

Long-term readers will recall that this is my least favourite month. Regarding my state of mind and emotions, the shortest of months seems interminable to me. Some years are better than others, and there is no question that the previous five years were among the darkest at this time. '20 to '24 were real struggles during Fear-bruary. 

As we entered this year's F-month, I admit to tending to my natural cocooning habit, which is the default coping mechanism. I'm very good at shutting out the world.

However, it has been a little different thus far because I was prised out of my Hutch in January to attend the memorial in Aberdeen. Thus, I have been out on the road, which is a novelty for this season. It is not an unwelcome alternative distraction and has prevented a total chrysalis state. It started with being able to linger for three nights at Hazlehead Park and recuperate, first, from the onslaught of crowds. I drove south for a night at St Cyrus Nature Reserve and then spent two nights at Ferryden...

That little bit of heaven can be viewed from The Grey. I was even able to sit with the van door open for part of the day. I got this interesting shot of a passing vessel through the flyscreen, creating a canvas-paintery look.

The next stopover was back at Friockheim, which is fast becoming as fond a long-term park-up spot to me as Lanark is in the borders. Despite overnight hard frosts, the days were bright, and I was again able to sit with the doors and windows open.

On my last day there, I took The Grey over to The Hub for a full charge-up whilst I made use of the shower facilities, had lunch, and then tea.

The carrot and coriander soup with cheese toastie was perfect for a wintry day. I must say, The Hub was hooching with folk that Friday; I've never seen it that busy. So full was it I offered two ladies who needed the seats to share my table. This turned out to be very entertaining, as I learned that Sylvia (in the blue) was born and bred in the village, and her friend, Joyce, was from Arbroath (about a 20-minute drive). They had been at school together, and here they are now, both 76 years young and still going strong. (I used the magic eraser on the photo to remove all the other folk there...)

Honestly, they were comical and would make a great double-act on stage!!! It was a spontaneous and unexpected but very welcome interlude and set me in a positive frame of mind for the drive down to Cowdenbeath later that day. I hope I meet them again when once more up that way.

Two nights at the Fife town car park stop - not fancy, but functional. Sunday, it was down to Edinburgh...

Menopdurating; Blog Admin

Phew! A new year, a new blog banner, and a new FFF badge for those participating. What's that, do I hear you ask? There are a few new readers here who may be wondering. 

It's my little prompt to get creative on your own blogs. You can see the guidelines for participation on the FFF Rulez tab above (or click here today). The badge will sit on that page permanently, but for today only, you can also download it here... You can resize it to suit your own page dimensions; I'm just using the original sizing for that big splash 'pay attention' effect 🤩

Each January, I opt to leave one day without a post just to give myself a teeny-tiny break. This year, that day is going to be Saturday. I am doing this mainly because I need to get more recordings done for the Saturday Sounds feature I started in the summer of last year, which has proven quite popular. The fallow day may drift into February, as I won't be back on the road until the third weekend of this month to capture anything of interest.

I continue to check the spam folder in comments regularly because Blogger really is a bit random with that. There are a few of you that it really doesn't like, and I regularly have to override the bot. Don't fret if your comment seems to disappear; I'll find it and get it back on the blog again. It might be worth restating that if you comment on any post over three weeks old, it will go to moderation, but again, be assured I check regularly. 

It is also worth reiterating that my blog is not contemporaneous. On average, all posts pertaining to my travels and happenings are about 10-14 days behind. This is to allow me time to process info and images - but also to build a degree of travel security. It is also occasionally true that posts may not always be in contiguous time.

New Blog Alert... you may recall that I met up with Amanda and her dogs recently at New Berwick and that she was thinking about restarting her own blogging habit. Well... it's happened! You can visit her at Climbing Mandy and see lovely photos of the boys. I must amend the Viszla's names here; I mistakenly remembered him as being another Harris (after the first one), but he is, in fact, called Hamish! Shame on YAM-aunty for getting that wrong.

If you dropped by yesterday, you would have seen and heard the first of a series of guest choices for the midweek music filler. It's the first time I've done this, and it was fun having musical choices put in my direction for a change. This weekly feature was begun to share some of my own eclectic tastes with a view to bringing things to your ears you may not have previously considered. Not everything is liked by everybody, but that doesn't matter. Giving things a chance is what matters. Being open to choices and seeking the bits that do sit well. For my part, I am not a fan of jazz by any stretch of the imagination, and yet there are some pieces that do sit well when the mood takes me. This is why I was excited when Joni came on board and responded to my request that she select a variety for us all to listen to this month.

NOW - I hope you also paid attention to my call to each of you to think about what you might like to share. I would be thrilled if I could fill this whole year with other folks' music selections! Hang together a minimum of five and up to eight pieces of music (it doesn't all have to be the same genre), and send me links to them via email. (If you don't already have my addy, you can use the contact link from my Linktree account.)

... I think that's it. 2025...crikey... Onward!

Menopting; Diversions

It has been quite an intense few weeks. One way I divert myself from an overactive mind is to give it a single track along which to run its thoughts. Yes, there are puzzles of varying types to engage the intellect, too. However, releasing that part and slowing down the raging river of thoughts is sometimes useful.

That's where arts and crafts come in. I didn't feel that sitting with a crochet hook in my hand was quite the fit I was looking for this past month. Still, I wanted to immerse myself in colour and gentle sounds. I looked for the koi pond app I once had on my tablet but failed to find it. Others are there but nowhere near as satisfying or as beautiful. As these things go, though, I was presented with some possible alternatives. One of these is Zen Color. This is a colour-by-number application; tap the colour bar at the bottom, and all the relevant patches in the image will display grey. Tap each of them, and they transform into that picked colour, all while gentle, meditative sounds and music play, though you can mute those if you prefer.

You can expand and contract the image to keep track of and locate some of the smaller patches. In fact, quite often, there are one or two spots that refuse to be found, so this is where super focus comes in - literally and figuratively. It actually takes focus - or perhaps concentration is the better word - to complete the images, although large parts can be done in a relatively thought-free condition.

Some images are deceptively simple in line form, taking more time than you realise to finish. Others are every bit as complex as they look. Completing them can take anywhere from ten minutes to an hour or more. I did wonder if I might bore of this after a few. Not at all! I am surprised at how absorbed I can become in locating the smaller patches to colour. There is a rhythmic quality to the 'painting' that is soothing, too. 

There are a huge number of templates to choose from, including the 'mystery' category. In that one, you have a blank page without a template, so you have no idea what you are going to end up with. I have done a couple of those now, and it brought a smile to my face when I recognised what was appearing—tigers in the first and sheep in the second. It really is fun and a nice way to keep the fingers occupied when feeling antsy. You can tell I really like it - I'm telling you about it! 

Menonnerating; When Life Gets Heavy

Readers—friends—this post is in conjunction with the one over at Nice Nobby/Naughty Nobby today. The time has come to share Gail's news, but it did not feel entirely right to put that all out on Nobby's blog. What relates to him is there, and as much as Gail herself has shared, is there.

However, the fullness of what has happened and its effect upon me (among so many others) can only be expressed here. To be clear, this is written with Gail's assent. The reality is Pancreatic Cancer. When I was with Gail just four short weeks ago, one of the things we discussed was the need for a post about her diagnosis, given so many people who commented on Nobby's blog were missing the more subtle signals. Without wishing to be harsh, there are only so many messages for improved health one can face when under a terminal condition. This is no fault of the well-wishers. It was decided that on my return visit, we would work on a 'reveal' post and ensure that I had all the relevant contacts she felt worth my having.

Dear ones never put off what can be done immediately!

As I drove north again, I spoke with Gail the day before her brother visited from England and then again when he'd left - Friday, a mere ten days ago. She was looking forward to my return, and we agreed I'd arrive on Sunday to give her a day of rest. Those who read Nobby's blog will recall the last paragraph of her last post there on that very Friday.

On Saturday morning, she called from A&E in very poor condition. Over the next two days, there was no response to my texts, and I confess I was beside myself because I had not taken those all-important contact details on the last visit. Neither did anyone on the ground have mine. I had a memory flash of an email address, though, and that proved the lifeline I needed to get back into the loop. It was all a bit scattered simply because Gail had deteriorated so very rapidly. Shockingly so. 

Cut to last Friday when I met up with the lady I had contacted and drove her into Aberdeen Infirmary so we could visit. Gail's brother had returned from the south again, so it was an honour and heart-warming to meet him, albeit in sad circumstances.

This is where I put on my old medic's hat and paraphrase the line you would hear if you called enquiring at any hospital and were not a relative... At the time of writing, Gail is in a sedated and stable condition. 

For my end of it, there have been floods. I know that I have not been alone in this. However, I am blessed to spend time by her bedside and relate to her all the incredible Love with the capital 'ell' coming her way from every corner of this globe. By some sort of magical mystery mayhem, several folks managed to track me down through my blog and Instagram, wondering if I had news, so by default, I have become the hub for online connections. I know that Max is fielding a great many more messages, so if I can relieve him of just this amount, it is a privilege. 

It is the waiting time, and there will be no change except for the final one.

Meanwhile, if I have missed commenting on your posts, or the comments are brief or not quite my usual efforts, please forgive me. I know you'll understand. Let me leave you with one of the photos provided by Nobby's "landlady" Linda... it expresses something of what I am feeling...

Menondering; Wee Toons Big Hairts - part two

On Monday, I introduced you to Portsoy. Here's another of the Moray Firth's fine wee toons.

Less than ten miles west of Portsoy is the town of Cullen. This is where the famous smoked haddock soup called Cullen Skink arose from. Like many of our coastal places, it is built on cliffs and has very steep streets. There is one of the bonniest views as you drive down into the town square and under the old railway bridge. I will revisit Cullen and do the walk that takes one up onto the viaduct... but the purpose of my visit on this occasion was to spend a couple of nights at a newly opened, community-run campervan "aire". It had dawned on the community council that campervans and motorhomes were using ground down by the shore for stopovers. Here was an opportunity for income to the community, with some planning and effort. They raised funds, applied to the county council, and set up a gated area with drinking water and toilet disposal facilities, proper hard standing, and a limit of 13 vehicles for no more than two nights on any given stay. £15/n during July and August, £12 spring and autumn and £10 from Nov to March. It is situated next door to the pet cemetery, something else for which Cullen is famous.

One morning, one of the community council members was there placing a number marker like the one I had for The Grey. They only opened in April and have been solidly booked ever since! This shows the demand for decent and cost-effective parking for tourists and has demonstrated to the naysayers in that community that it brings in money and keeps things tidy. 

Though, to maintain the latter, they could do with providing bins on the site, rather than relying on folk doing the right thing and taking it along to the harbour bin - singular - which was clearly beyond its limit. The committee fellow also mentioned they were thinking of putting in EHU facilities (elec hook up). I suspect that will entail putting prices up, which would mean I would not use the place again. However, I really did enjoy my two nights there. Being able to arrive at midday and stay until 1030h on the day of departure also worked out at two full days, and as the weather was wonderful, I took the chance to get some laundry out...

There was the promise of a lovely shoreline walk out past the cemetery, but that, too, will have to await another visit. I did go to the harbour, though. I got chatting with Colin, a born-and-bred Cullen chap in his 90s who needs a slow walk and long talk. He'd trained at the still-operational Maritime School there, gone off to do his national service "sooth o' the border", returned and never left. He'd been a chandler, mainly for the local fisheries, but latterly for 'the yachting crowd'. 

He'd been thrilled with the aire getting up and going but less enamoured of his new neighbour (frae Newcastle ye ken), who was renovating the house for the purpose of listing on Air B&B. "Ye jus' dinny ken whae ye're gonna wake up tae!"

At the other side of the harbour, Colin took his leave to go up the wee side street to his home. I lingered and watched the lassie collecting cockles and clams.

From the van, I looked across at this... do you see what I see???

I could tell you a lot more about Cullen... but instead, here are photos of the info board beside the cemetery/start of the walk, and you can glean whatever interests you. It is a lovely town that had a bit of heart failure but is doing its best to get healthy again!

Menondering; Wee Toons Big Hairts - part one.

After a good night's sleep at the aquarium parking lot, I set off after breakfast to visit some of the ex-fishing ports dotted like pearls along the Moray coast and get a feel for them. Having visited the Banff museum and discovered how active this northeast corner of the Bonny Land had once been, it is good to see that much of the coast is picking itself up and dusting itself off. In most cases, it's because of the intense community spirit that is to be found in each 'wee toon'. 

Macduff does have an active ship repair and maintenance yard, and - although there is a bit of nimbyism from 'import' retirees who've bought shoreline homes not wanting there to be any change because 'it might spoil their view' and 'bring undesirables' - the upgrade to the aquarium will surely be a positive thing for the town. It has a way to go before it attains more of the vibrancy that its near neighbour of Banff demonstrates.

I have observed two distinct channels in most communities. One understands that to at least tread water, if not thrive, it is necessary to embrace change and seek to grow from the strengths within their community. Each member brings what they can to that purpose, and those who cannot provide practical aid are often generous in other ways. The second channel is those who (mostly) have bought into the village or town because it suits their idea of 'quaint', and they have no interest in growth or attempting to hold the young by updating and are invested, instead, in keeping it stuck exactly where it is. Another factor, particularly around coastal towns, is the 'holiday home' syndrome. Large chunks of the property often lie empty for long periods, hollowing out the community as there is no housing for growing local families to move into, so they leave and go to the bigger towns and cities. I've witnessed this first-hand in my own wee home toon of Dunoon. To be fair, a large part of what prevents the flourishing of new interest is a lack of financial means, as much of what is needed is a refurbishment of infrastructure and key premises - such as in the case of the aquarium. For them, the bulk of the cost of the new building is to be facilitated by a government grant. There is a small amount from lottery funds. The rest is from donations and entry fees.

Spot The Grey!

Many places, though, have to depend on their own means. To keep the young from deserting, there needs to be the promise of work and the possibility of having a worthwhile life with a chance to expand their horizons within that local area. 

A short drive of about six miles from Banff lies the wee toon of Portsoy. So many times, I have simply driven through, focused on getting to Inverness. Now, I determined to stop. Although it wasn't on my Park4Night app, I was sure I could park up by the harbour. Sure enough, I got a level spot right beside the public conveniences! Portsoy is a shining example of maintaining its quaintness and history whilst thriving in the 21st century. At the very bottom of that page linked, you will see rewards, placed as if an afterthought, but, from what I observed, richly deserved. I observed many young families coming down to the town beach, swimming, crab fishing, and bird watching. I noticed many service vehicles, both council and private tradesmen, would come and stop to eat their breakfast or lunch, enjoying the embrace of this handsome little port. I saw and heard many folks of all ages enjoying the hostelry - The Shore Inn - and visiting the active boat-building workshop beside it. 

The settlement and port had existed for many centuries but not as a constructed element. That formal construction came about, as it had in Banff, with the arrival of a strong fishing industry and associated industries, such as smoke housing, ropemaking, and boatbuilding. The majority of the buildings around the port and up onto the main street are of early to mid-18th-century construction. One or two date back to the 17th - note the 'stepped gables'.  Almost all are maintained and in daily use/lived in.

On the hill to the west side of the harbour stands a delightful sculpture - there is a pod of bottlenose dolphins native to the firth, and this is one of the spots from which they are often spotted. This article tells you a little about the sculpture.

I lingered for a day, just walking about the harbour and enjoying the wonderful summer weather that had properly settled in. I chatted with four-year-old Minnie and her dad, who were enjoying the harbour beach and learned that she liked wearing her buoyancy vest and that she was learning to swim and that she could catch crabs and that there were little fishes in there too and that her daddy was the best swimmer and ..and.. and..   Dad just shook his head. 

I spent just one night there, but I would park for longer next visit. I did stop up on the main street before leaving, though. I dropped into the bakery for a loaf and a "Tom Thumb." That's them with chocolate on either side and wrapped in marzipan. Think very luxurious Battenberg.

The loaf, a malted and seeded wholemeal, was astoundingly delicious. I wish I could take that bakery with me! Just along from there, opposite the handsome church/community centre, is Portsoy Ice Cream. I am not a big ice cream fan, to be very honest, but for exceptional products and decent weather, I can make an exception. That said, when I spotted that they did milkshakes with their homemade ice, my heart did a flip. I am a milkshakeaholic and haven't had a truly decent one since departing the shores of the far southern island of OZ. Something about the setup here said it would be a good choice. 

Not only was it a good choice, it was a brilliant one! At nearly six quid, I was certainly glad of that. And I would happily pay it again. I opted for the "two-scoop" size - which seemed to involve four scoops, so go figure - and had them blend coconut with rum and raisin. O.M.G........ lush doesn't come anywhere near describing how good this was!

I took it around to the park at the Loch of Soy and savoured it as I watched the water birds play. I got doggy kisses from a gorgeous black Labrador called Monty, tail licks from a Collie-cross Terrier called Zing... and then I met Alice, a beautiful strawberry blonde Greyhound, and her owner, 85 years young Janet W. Janet had only recently moved into Portsoy's Burnside Court Sheltered Housing. For the previous 35 years, she had been running a croft just outside the town. An accident which required her to be moved by helicopter meant she realised it was time to make a change. We spoke for over an hour! I have her address and am to look her up next time I am by. Alice just lay down on the grass and checked on us every so often to make sure she wasn't forgotten! I am sad that I didn't think to take an ussie... 

Anyway, it was time to continue moving along the coast.