Our trip to New Zealand at the end of 2016 whetted our appetite after a long dry spell of staying put – except for our much-loved regional road tours through the smaller towns and cities of Victoria to Adelaide. In August 2017, we took off for Singapore (once again on Singapore Airlines, of course, thanks to Chief Minister Andrew Barr, whose Government had persuaded the airline to be the first to fly internationally from Canberra – no more the need to get to Sydney first).
Dipping a late-coming toe in the Asian Century
We were only staying a single night in Singapore to break the flight – a habit that we were to repeat on future visits. Our stay on the return trip was longer – that was when we would get a better sense of the city. I realised in Singapore with some surprise that this is dipping a late-coming toe in the Asian Century – it was the first time in my life that I had ever stayed in an Asian city. I knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Singapore - first overnight stay in an Asian city.
We wandered around and went to the City Square Mall, which was a cheap end shopping centre and did some housekeeping shopping. My fellow traveller found Uniglo and bought some socks and I was very excited because I had run out of small notebooks for the trip and found a Daiso store, like the one in Sydney that entranced me when I first discovered it. There was also a Din Tai Fung noodle place, part of an international chain originally from Taiwan, one of which we had become attached to in Sydney. I was keen to see what a Singapore version would be like, so we had lunch there. It was definitely better than the one in Sydney – something not inevitable, but noteworthy.
The hotel we were staying in – in the heart of Little India – had an award-winning spa. My fellow traveller had to have an extended treatment. I tagged along and had a massage, followed by a swim in the jacuzzi. The massage was extensive, from my toes to my fingertips to my head. It's actually a fairly intimate interaction but strangely enough the most intimate part is at the most further extremity of your body – your hands. When the masseuse is massaging them, at one point she almost holds hands with you. After this we were still tired but we went for a walk around the streets of Little India, until we could sleep.
Breaking the flight
Our flying arrangement worked really well. Overnight from Canberra to Singapore, normally just an eight hour twenty minute flight, but this time only seven and a half hours was not ideal, but bearable. Then staying overnight in Singapore, then flying for 12-13 hours to Europe – leaving early afternoon and arriving not too late at night. You're flying in human hours and it's not too long a stretch. It's certainly not the 20 something hours I remember – with just an hour or so on the ground while the plane refuelled in the middle of the night.
As I get older I realise I'm more easily able to deal with jet lag because normal waking life is often like jet lag. I don't watch that many films on a plane. Instead I find myself catching glimpses of the films other passengers are watching – one subtitled in Chinese here, another in German there. I saw a good recent film, ‘American women’, that I'd missed at the cinema. It was a bit disconcerting because it was subtitled in Chinese.
A Chinese-Australian friend in Sydney asked if I liked Singapore and I replied ‘A one day fleeting visit is probably not a fair basis for a view, especially given I had a slightly rocky trip getting there, but I was very impressed and am looking forward to returning home through there.’
In Frankfurt, affected by jet lag, I woke and got up early to prepare for my travels out and about – travelling light in the age of tourism deluge. Flying out of Frankfurt on what was no more than a domestic flight was very different to Singapore. The security was intense, with body frisks and bags opened and searched closely. Despite arriving early, we were worried we'd miss the plane. I suspect some people did. It was heartening to see how, despite the pressure and chaos, people looked out for those on flights about to depart. I have only seen this level of security before when I was watching passengers board an El Al flight from Vienna to Tel Aviv back in 2005 or 2006. It was far more tight than any of the international screening we have seen.
The whole operation seemed very disjointed and inconsistent. Flying to Singapore from Australia and then from Singapore to Frankfurt, we repeatedly asked if we needed to put our electronic devices, like tablets, in the trays to go through the scanners and we were repeatedly told that only laptops needed to be taken out. Then when we got to Europe it was all electronic devices.
If you misheard or missed the instructions from the staff member at the start of the screening area – as I did – then it meant a huge amount of extra time wasted by both the security personnel and the passenger. I find it inconceivable that airlines don't provide updated information on what preparations passengers can do to streamline security procedures, especially as they change in response to new threats.
Settled in on the other side of the globe
In Manchester at last, I found myself waking up later and later, as I settled in on the other side of the globe. In Frankfurt it was 4.30 am, in Manchester it was 5.30 am. Our first day in Manchester was the first time I felt as though we'd stopped for a moment and started to settle into the travelling life. I felt for the first time in the trip that we were really on holidays. I really enjoyed wandering around Manchester on our first day, albeit with some specific tasks, like buying prepaid data and phone cards so we could actually talk to each other and coordinate things when we were roaming separately around the city – unlike in Singapore, where because of the short stopover, we made do with public wi-fi.
I was already working out where places were that I wanted to see. Walking around after we checked into the Lowry Hotel, I stumbled across the People's History Museum, which was definitely something for my list. I had been told about it by the Director of the Canberra Museum and Gallery, who I had recently worked with on a big forum in Canberra about the value of the arts. We also realised we were only a few minutes walk from Spinningfields, where we were going to Tattu restaurant that night. It was great to see how much was in short walking distance.
‘I realised in Singapore with some surprise that this is dipping a late-coming toe in the Asian Century – it was the first time in my life that I had ever stayed in an Asian city. I knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last.’
The hotel we were staying in – in the heart of Little India – had an award-winning spa. My fellow traveller had to have an extended treatment. I tagged along and had a massage, followed by a swim in the jacuzzi. The massage was extensive, from my toes to my fingertips to my head. It's actually a fairly intimate interaction but strangely enough the most intimate part is at the most further extremity of your body – your hands. When the masseuse is massaging them, at one point she almost holds hands with you. After this we were still tired but we went for a walk around the streets of Little India, until we could sleep.
Breaking the flight
Our flying arrangement worked really well. Overnight from Canberra to Singapore, normally just an eight hour twenty minute flight, but this time only seven and a half hours was not ideal, but bearable. Then staying overnight in Singapore, then flying for 12-13 hours to Europe – leaving early afternoon and arriving not too late at night. You're flying in human hours and it's not too long a stretch. It's certainly not the 20 something hours I remember – with just an hour or so on the ground while the plane refuelled in the middle of the night.
An unexpected assisted landing at Changi Airport.
As I get older I realise I'm more easily able to deal with jet lag because normal waking life is often like jet lag. I don't watch that many films on a plane. Instead I find myself catching glimpses of the films other passengers are watching – one subtitled in Chinese here, another in German there. I saw a good recent film, ‘American women’, that I'd missed at the cinema. It was a bit disconcerting because it was subtitled in Chinese.
A Chinese-Australian friend in Sydney asked if I liked Singapore and I replied ‘A one day fleeting visit is probably not a fair basis for a view, especially given I had a slightly rocky trip getting there, but I was very impressed and am looking forward to returning home through there.’
‘I don't watch that many films on a plane. Instead I find myself catching glimpses of the films other passengers are watching – one subtitled in Chinese here, another in German there.’
In Frankfurt, affected by jet lag, I woke and got up early to prepare for my travels out and about – travelling light in the age of tourism deluge. Flying out of Frankfurt on what was no more than a domestic flight was very different to Singapore. The security was intense, with body frisks and bags opened and searched closely. Despite arriving early, we were worried we'd miss the plane. I suspect some people did. It was heartening to see how, despite the pressure and chaos, people looked out for those on flights about to depart. I have only seen this level of security before when I was watching passengers board an El Al flight from Vienna to Tel Aviv back in 2005 or 2006. It was far more tight than any of the international screening we have seen.
The whole operation seemed very disjointed and inconsistent. Flying to Singapore from Australia and then from Singapore to Frankfurt, we repeatedly asked if we needed to put our electronic devices, like tablets, in the trays to go through the scanners and we were repeatedly told that only laptops needed to be taken out. Then when we got to Europe it was all electronic devices.
If you misheard or missed the instructions from the staff member at the start of the screening area – as I did – then it meant a huge amount of extra time wasted by both the security personnel and the passenger. I find it inconceivable that airlines don't provide updated information on what preparations passengers can do to streamline security procedures, especially as they change in response to new threats.
Settled in on the other side of the globe
In Manchester at last, I found myself waking up later and later, as I settled in on the other side of the globe. In Frankfurt it was 4.30 am, in Manchester it was 5.30 am. Our first day in Manchester was the first time I felt as though we'd stopped for a moment and started to settle into the travelling life. I felt for the first time in the trip that we were really on holidays. I really enjoyed wandering around Manchester on our first day, albeit with some specific tasks, like buying prepaid data and phone cards so we could actually talk to each other and coordinate things when we were roaming separately around the city – unlike in Singapore, where because of the short stopover, we made do with public wi-fi.
‘I was certain that the hotel we were staying in was named after L S Lowry, the famous British artist who painted scenes from industrial Salford – where the hotel is – and whose work I was quite familiar with and had long admired. My fellow traveller had particular historic family connections to the place, but for both of us, it was part of our heritage.’
I was already working out where places were that I wanted to see. Walking around after we checked into the Lowry Hotel, I stumbled across the People's History Museum, which was definitely something for my list. I had been told about it by the Director of the Canberra Museum and Gallery, who I had recently worked with on a big forum in Canberra about the value of the arts. We also realised we were only a few minutes walk from Spinningfields, where we were going to Tattu restaurant that night. It was great to see how much was in short walking distance.
Manchester - I had thought of it as a huge city, but it was more human-sized than that.
I was certain that the hotel we were staying in was named after L S Lowry, the famous British artist who painted scenes from industrial Salford – where the hotel is – and whose work I was quite familiar with and had long admired. My fellow traveller had particular historic family connections to the place, but for both of us, it was part of our heritage. When we landed at Manchester Airport – which reminded me of a smaller regional Australian airport – she mentioned that in the television series ‘Cold Feet’, which we had watched avidly, the main character flies into Manchester Airport from Singapore, and she then got very excited about it.
The trip was running away with me and I was slipping behind with my updates. We were already two cities on from Singapore and I still had not written a post to upload about it.
Second tier cities are something else
Manchester was an experience. As much as I enjoyed the energy and scale of big cities, second tier cities are always something else. Lyon is a good example. It's one reason I enjoy Canberra – a large regional city, not that much smaller than Manchester, but at the same time the capital of Australia, with all the facilities that entails.
The trip was running away with me and I was slipping behind with my updates. We were already two cities on from Singapore and I still had not written a post to upload about it.
Second tier cities are something else
Manchester was an experience. As much as I enjoyed the energy and scale of big cities, second tier cities are always something else. Lyon is a good example. It's one reason I enjoy Canberra – a large regional city, not that much smaller than Manchester, but at the same time the capital of Australia, with all the facilities that entails.
One of the powerhouses of the Industrial Revolution.
We found our way to the grungy, edgy Northern Quarter, which is one of the most interesting parts of the city. We visited the Manchester Craft and Design Centre and saw some fantastic jewellery, textiles and ceramics. The centre – and dozens of other tiny shops and bars – are all on the former site of the Smithfield Markets, which once covered the whole area. There are still remnants of the markets dotted around.
‘As much as I enjoyed the energy and scale of big cities, second tier cities are always something else. Lyon is a good example. It's one reason I enjoy Canberra – a large regional city, not that much smaller than Manchester, but at the same time the capital of Australia, with all the facilities that entails.’
We popped into a clothing store which had a sale on and got into conversation with the sales staff about Manchester, high fashion and politics. You name it, we discussed it – Brexit, the British Empire, immigration, racism, the benefits and pitfalls of life in Britain in current times. The guy we mainly spoke to was a fascinating young gay man whose family had migrated to Britain from Pakistan in the 1950s (when ‘Britain was throwing around visas’). His mother had recently moved back to Birmingham, where the family had originally settled.
Definitely my kind of town
They then gave us a long list of places to see and go – this was definitely my kind of town. That night we went to Tattu, a mod Chinese restaurant which I had found and booked via the Internet while I was still in Australia. It is known for its theatrical, over the top design and had both very good reviews on all the restaurant sites plus universally positive comments from all the locals we mentioned it to. We were told that people like David Beckham were often seen there.
There were beggars everywhere - not least in the entrance foyers of needy cultural institutions.
The food was great and we got to drink one of our favourite wines, Sancerre (usually obtained at home through Costco), with it. We had a mixed steamed dim sum basket of chicken, pork and shrimps and wagyu beef. Then we had caramelised soy beef fillet and tempura monkfish Thai style with lime and salt and pepper tempura aubergine. We didn't see David Beckham but there seemed to be some blinged up footballer types – though maybe they were just accountants.
One of the canals in Manchester dividing Salford from the heart of the city.
While we were in Manchester we went to the fabulous neo-Gothic John Rylands Library, the Museum of Science and Industry (interesting for me, having worked at the Powerhouse Museum), the remains of a nearby Roman fort and the Manchester Art Gallery. It was interesting that Manchester became a heart of industry because it was near the major ports like Liverpool and had good river links, it had fast flowing streams to drive the mills and it had few planning controls, so anything went. On our wandering we passed a brightly-coloured Indian wedding, complete with drumming and dancing, on the steps of the Midland Hotel, a landmark in Manchester.
‘I found my change dwindling, with homeless beggars and impoverished cultural institutions both asking for donations to keep going. The other thing that struck us is the volume of smokers, with a large proportion using e-cigarettes as they walked along.’
At the Gallery, we saw a photographic exhibition of Manchester after World War 2, when the old terrace housing in working class communities was being torn down. What stood out was that in a wealthy and prosperous city like Manchester, the wealth wasn't in these communities. The legacy of Thatcher and her successors was still apparent. There were lots of people sleeping in doorways. I found my change dwindling, with homeless beggars and impoverished cultural institutions both asking for donations to keep going. The other thing that struck us is the volume of smokers, with a large proportion using e-cigarettes as they walked along.
A bar in an underground soup kitchen for kids
I was walking through Spinningfields bemoaning the fact that I couldn't seem to get a local quality beer anywhere, after we had just had an average beer and an average wine in one bar and I almost walked into a tiny clapboard sign for the Gaslight. Intrigued we headed down the stairs to a cellar bar that was delightful. It was almost empty but soon after we arrived it started to fill up. It had a great range of beers, including a local stout, which I had to try, and a huge range of interesting spirits served by friendly, knowledgeable staff.
‘As we walked around, there were still signs of the aftermath of the Manchester terror bombing – which happened in the Manchester Arena, just up the road from where we are staying. There were references on public walls to the #WeStandTogether hashtag, which appeared everywhere after the bombing.’
It was like a kitchen, with every wall tiled and decommissioned wood stoves in niches in the walls. In fact it had originally been a soup kitchen for children, something much needed in the Spinningfields of old. My fellow traveller commented that she could see why her parents – who met in Manchester after World War 2 – decided to come to Australia.
As we walked around, there were still signs of the aftermath of the Manchester terror bombing – which happened in the Manchester Arena, just up the road from where we are staying. There were references on public walls to the #WeStandTogether hashtag, which appeared everywhere after the bombing.
Manchester wedding, outside the Midland Hotel, a Manchester landmark.
Just after we first arrived in Manchester, before I had managed to get a map or a phone card, I stopped a couple of people asking for directions – including, as it turned out, some Australians. They all promptly whipped out their smart phones and Googled a map.
Having thoroughly enjoyed our first ever stay in Manchester, we picked up a car at the airport for our Scottish regional road tour adventure and headed off to New Lanark. We planned to be back in Manchester in three and a half weeks before we flew out.
Welcome to Scotland
‘Welcome to Scotland’, I thought. After we successfully picked up our car in Manchester we drove north on the A6 motorway. On the way we stopped for lunch in a quintessential old English pub. Then we went to see our first bit of Hadrian's Wall – there would be more later in the trip as we came down through York on the opposite side of England.
'Welcome to the North' as we headed from Manchester towards Scotland.
‘A bubbly staff member who worked in the bar and restaurant…had just returned to Lanark, where she grew up, after two years working as a backpacker in Cairns, Sydney, Melbourne and Darwin. She said that wages are so low in the UK compared to Australia that she almost cried when she found out what she was to be paid.’
I got into conversation with Rosanna, a bubbly staff member who worked in the bar and restaurant. She had just returned to Lanark, where she grew up, after two years working as a backpacker in Cairns, Sydney, Melbourne and Darwin. She said that wages are so low in the UK compared to Australia that she almost cried when she found out what she was to be paid. She loved Scotland but would have liked to settle in Australia. I loved her spirit of adventure.
Meeting her was particularly apt because, just like her, my great grandmother, Agnes Christie Davidson, was born here – on 20 June 1891 – in Braidwood, Carluke. Like so many others she fled poverty and came out on her own on a ship to Brisbane when she was just a young girl. My father had been here to Braidwood before me and I had ransacked his journals before I came to get the family history.
‘My great grandmother, Agnes Christie Davidson, was born here – on 20 June 1891 – in Braidwood, Carluke. Like so many others she fled poverty and came out on her own on a ship to Brisbane when she was just a young girl.’
Just before we left I was looking at some fabulous photos of weddings at the hotel. They were a record of very different events – from dapper to slapper.
Our next stop was to be a stone cottage managed by the Landmark Trust in Saddell, on a peninsula with the Isle of Islay on one side and the Isle of Arran on the other. In Saddell, we had no connection to phones or the Internet in that part of the world, so it was back to just writing in my electronic journal for a while, with none of my regular broadcasts to the world about our travels.
Waking up on the West Coast
For some reason I woke up in Saddell Lodge on the West Coast of Scotland with an old English ballad running through my head. Maybe I was thinking of all those – each one of them convicts of circumstance in their own way – who made the trip from that side of the world to Australia.
Farewell to old England for ever
Farewell to my old friends as well
Farewell to the well known Old Bailey
Where I once used to look such a swell
Singing too-ra-la-oora-la-attity
Singing too-ra-la-oora-la-ay
Singing too-ra-la-oora-la-attity
For I'm bound for Botany Bay
First thing in the morning, as the sun came up, I watched swarms of tiny birds darting around outside the front window. I made a cup of tea in the blue and white crockery. Drinking it with a shortbread biscuit made me feel as though I was travelling with my father.
No idea of a water shortage
Driving to Saddell from Lanark through the centre of Glasgow and past Loch Lomond I realised that the Scots must have no idea what a water shortage looks like – swollen, rushing streams of water gushed down beside the road and under it the whole length of the trip. We had heard that it was going to rain for the next two weeks but it was clear at that stage, so perhaps that was an unusually pessimistic prediction.
We stopped in Inverary, on the shores of Loch Fyne, and had lunch in an old sprawling pub heaving with other tourists. Then we loaded up with warm Scottish garb, suitable for the height of summer in Scotland (the day before it had reached 15 degrees Celsius). We headed to our 19th Century cottage, in Saddell where we intended to take it easy for the next four days. The name of Saddell dates back much earlier than most of the buildings there. It is Norse for ‘sandy valley’ and originated from a Viking settlement on the spot over a thousand years ago.
‘I realised that the Scots must have no idea what a water shortage looks like – swollen, rushing streams of water gushed down beside the road and under it the whole length of the trip. We had heard that it was going to rain for the next two weeks but it was clear at that stage, so perhaps that was an unusually pessimistic prediction.’
We kept bumping into Australians, whether travellers like ourselves or those who had settled in the UK. There were several places on the old estate, all owned and managed by the Landmark Trust. We were in Saddell Lodge, a huge extended family of eleven was in Saddell House and a woman from Adelaide who ‘married a Brit’, with her family, was in Saddell Castle.
Dry wall stone fences around Saddell.
Once we had settled in, we drove south to Campbeltown. It's the main town on the Kintyre Peninsula and just around from the Mull of Kintyre, made famous by Paul McCartney. It used to be a major hub but was devastated economically by the closure of a large NATO base and the withdrawal of US special forces there (Question: war - what is it good for? Answer: jobs and growth). It still had a major military airstrip that could take every kind of modern jetliner – but didn't any longer. It was a bit of a sad place that hasn't yet found a new future.
A vanishing subsidy for a depressed industry
On the way to our lodge on the first day, we drove to an out of the way smokehouse in Skipness to buy some excellent smoked salmon. I had found it on the Internet from Australia. Yet nowhere round there, including Campbeltown, could you buy its products. Ironically, because the region is economically depressed, the smokehouse was set up with the assistance of European Union grants. That sort of subsidy wasn't going to last much longer.
We realised that depressed regions of the UK subsidised by the EU would go into shock after Brexit.
As we were about to order a modest glass of wine before driving home, we also found out some useful, probably essential, traveller information, not widely publicised. According to the barmaid, in Scotland the legal blood alcohol limit for drivers recently became ZERO – apparently you couldn’t keep those Calvinists down.
This was a worse version of our New Zealand experience, where surrounded by messages expounding the pleasures of all the wineries, we discovered the limit was round half that in Australia. No-one rushes to tell you this. Lucky that in both instances I asked. That put a bit of a dampener on the day. Later I checked and discovered that this was not true. The blood alcohol limit was low, but not zero – that meant we were able to roam around in the car and still have the odd glass or two.
‘We drove to an out of the way smokehouse in Skipness to buy some excellent smoked salmon. Yet nowhere round there could you buy its products. Ironically, because the region is economically depressed, the smokehouse was set up with the assistance of European Union grants. That sort of subsidy wasn't going to last much longer.’
This was a worse version of our New Zealand experience, where surrounded by messages expounding the pleasures of all the wineries, we discovered the limit was round half that in Australia. No-one rushes to tell you this. Lucky that in both instances I asked. That put a bit of a dampener on the day. Later I checked and discovered that this was not true. The blood alcohol limit was low, but not zero – that meant we were able to roam around in the car and still have the odd glass or two.
Fishing boats and harbours were strung along the coast.
I knew there were excellent restaurants and producers dotted across Scotland. The problem was finding them. Thankfully there was always porridge. In New Lanark I went down in the morning to ask for a pot of coffee for the room and I was convinced that what I was given was instant coffee. In Inverary we found a shop in the main street – run by an Italian – that sold real espresso and we bought a bag of ground coffee for the tiny coffee plunger that flew to the UK with us, stuffed full of socks to protect it’s glass shell.
Why bread and butter pudding was invented
European travellers must be shocked by the bread generally available. It reminded me of bakeries in out of the way places in Tasmania when I was growing up (and long afterwards). I can see why bread and butter pudding was invented – after a day or so it's the only way to make it palatable. With places to eat and historic sights our new approach was like a trainee teacher delivering an unfamiliar subject – we were reading the guidebook about the next stage of the journey ahead the night before to stay one step ahead.
Sitting in a teahouse in Carradale, just up the Kintyre Peninsula from Saddell, I saw a quote about the Isle of Arran – where we planned to take a ferry the next day, ‘if you can see Arran, it's going to rain and if you can't, it's already raining’. Coming from Australia – the driest continent in the world – I could only wish. Around us the world was constantly dripping. Scotland – ‘if you can see Scotland, it's going to rain and if you can't, it's already raining’.
Across the way
Being in this countryside that must resemble Northern Island – and in fact visiting ancient Saddell Abbey, established by monks from Ireland – made me think of my uncle Jim Cassidy. After surviving the war as a navigator on Lancaster bombers he married an Irish woman and settled in Belfast and, despite a few return visits, never came back to Australia – my fellow traveller’s mother was on leave from a disintegrating Eastern Front and was staying with relatives on the outskirts that night and she watched as the city burned.
Why bread and butter pudding was invented
European travellers must be shocked by the bread generally available. It reminded me of bakeries in out of the way places in Tasmania when I was growing up (and long afterwards). I can see why bread and butter pudding was invented – after a day or so it's the only way to make it palatable. With places to eat and historic sights our new approach was like a trainee teacher delivering an unfamiliar subject – we were reading the guidebook about the next stage of the journey ahead the night before to stay one step ahead.
‘European travellers must be shocked by the bread generally available. It reminded me of bakeries in out of the way places in Tasmania when I was growing up (and long afterwards). I can see why bread and butter pudding was invented – after a day or so it's the only way to make it palatable.’
Sitting in a teahouse in Carradale, just up the Kintyre Peninsula from Saddell, I saw a quote about the Isle of Arran – where we planned to take a ferry the next day, ‘if you can see Arran, it's going to rain and if you can't, it's already raining’. Coming from Australia – the driest continent in the world – I could only wish. Around us the world was constantly dripping. Scotland – ‘if you can see Scotland, it's going to rain and if you can't, it's already raining’.
Across the way
Being in this countryside that must resemble Northern Island – and in fact visiting ancient Saddell Abbey, established by monks from Ireland – made me think of my uncle Jim Cassidy. After surviving the war as a navigator on Lancaster bombers he married an Irish woman and settled in Belfast and, despite a few return visits, never came back to Australia – my fellow traveller’s mother was on leave from a disintegrating Eastern Front and was staying with relatives on the outskirts that night and she watched as the city burned.
Scones were part of the Scottish way of life - as we rediscovered years later on the South Island of New Zealand, where many Scots settled.
It was a miracle he survived. He ended up with his life and two Distinguished Flying Crosses. He used to joke that the attrition rate amongst Bomber Command crew was so dire that they gave the medals to anyone who survived. There are some subjects about which I write that are so emotionally charged that I have to polish and rearrange each word. It's like a magic spell that has to be spoken in exactly the right way and the right order to realise its power. War and family survival are one of those subjects.
At Manchester Airport, as we got off the plane, we had bought a litre of Ardbeg scotch and it had been travelling around with us. It seemed to go down more quickly than I expected – the result of drinking it, I suppose. As planned, we caught the ferry to Arran. It was our first visit to a Scottish island and our first Scottish island ferry. We had originally planned to go to Islay to visit the Laphroaig Distillery, my fellow traveller being partial to its product, but the choice of Arran was made due to a combination of availability (car spots on the Islay ferry were all booked out), duration (the Islay ferry takes two hours and the Arran one 30 minutes) and timing (the Islay one required either a really early start or a really late return from the ferry at Kenneshaw on narrow, dark roads). The Arran ferry was quite small compared to the larger ones plying the longer routes and it was all very straightforward.
‘We had bought a litre of Scotch and it had been travelling around with us. It seemed to go down more quickly than I expected – the result of drinking it, I suppose.’
At Manchester Airport, as we got off the plane, we had bought a litre of Ardbeg scotch and it had been travelling around with us. It seemed to go down more quickly than I expected – the result of drinking it, I suppose. As planned, we caught the ferry to Arran. It was our first visit to a Scottish island and our first Scottish island ferry. We had originally planned to go to Islay to visit the Laphroaig Distillery, my fellow traveller being partial to its product, but the choice of Arran was made due to a combination of availability (car spots on the Islay ferry were all booked out), duration (the Islay ferry takes two hours and the Arran one 30 minutes) and timing (the Islay one required either a really early start or a really late return from the ferry at Kenneshaw on narrow, dark roads). The Arran ferry was quite small compared to the larger ones plying the longer routes and it was all very straightforward.
Amongst these scattered islands ferries - like the Aran ferry - are vital, much like the ancient ships that knitted all the communities together.
Before we left Australia we had joined the National Trust for Scotland so we could visit heritage sites without racking up admission charges and at Brodick Castle, one of our first stops on Arran, we used our membership for the first time. Unfortunately the castle, with some of the finest collections in Scotland, was closed for repair to improve its fire safety. We had a really enjoyable tour of the exterior of the castle and the gardens instead – but we would have dearly loved to have seen the interior and the collection.
Extended, modified and burned down
Like so many castles, it seemed to have been extended and modified many times over the centuries and burned down almost as regularly. As times became more peaceful, the size and number of windows and home comforts increased. In Victorian times, as was the fashion, the owners scoured the world for exotic plants. I saw a eucalyptus and a tree fern – a Dicksonia Antarctica – from Tasmania.
Extended, modified and burned down
Like so many castles, it seemed to have been extended and modified many times over the centuries and burned down almost as regularly. As times became more peaceful, the size and number of windows and home comforts increased. In Victorian times, as was the fashion, the owners scoured the world for exotic plants. I saw a eucalyptus and a tree fern – a Dicksonia Antarctica – from Tasmania.
Standing stones on Arran interspersed with black-faced sheep were interrupted by rain.
We visited the standing stones at Machri Moor, on the West of the island, walking across fields to get to them. It rained on the way back, so we had to scuttle for cover – there was none on the moor.
Walking on peat
standing amongst the stones
as rain came down.
At the end of the visit to Arran, as we waited for the ferry, we finally encountered the dreaded midges we had heard so much about. Luckily they were pretty mild.
Across Scotland we were struck by how the alignment of churches reflected the alignment of earlier monuments they had been built over, in much the same way as the width of Roman chariot wheels was adopted for later rail gauges. The really early sites have the same sort of presence as ancient Aboriginal sites in Australia. In Scotland the churches tended to be plain. The Reformation struck back against show, but also against art. The derogatory phrase ‘painted women’ was not accidental.
Not a border but a highway
As we were travelling up the West coast of Scotland on the way to Glencoe (usually mentioned with the word ‘massacre’ immediately after it), we passed a tall mound rising out of the bog plain. This was Dunadd, a Dark Ages hill fort stronghold. It was believed to have been the capital of the ancient kingdom of Dál Riata or Dál Riada, which used to be the centre of a kingdom that linked the Western Isles and adjacent countryside, including Kintyre, with Antrim in Northern Ireland.
It was established after the Romans had abandoned Britain and included parts of Western Scotland and North Eastern Ireland, on each side of the North Channel. At its height in the late 6th and early 7th centuries, it encompassed roughly what is now Argyll in Scotland and part of County Antrim in the Irish province of Ulster. Within Dál Riata was the important monastery of Iona, which played a key role in the spread of Celtic Christianity throughout northern Britain. Iona was a centre of learning and produced many important manuscripts. Dál Riata also had a strong seafaring culture and a large naval fleet.
Walking on peat
standing amongst the stones
as rain came down.
At the end of the visit to Arran, as we waited for the ferry, we finally encountered the dreaded midges we had heard so much about. Luckily they were pretty mild.
‘Like so many castles, it seemed to have been extended and modified many times over the centuries and burned down almost as regularly. As times became more peaceful, the size and number of windows and home comforts increased.’
Across Scotland we were struck by how the alignment of churches reflected the alignment of earlier monuments they had been built over, in much the same way as the width of Roman chariot wheels was adopted for later rail gauges. The really early sites have the same sort of presence as ancient Aboriginal sites in Australia. In Scotland the churches tended to be plain. The Reformation struck back against show, but also against art. The derogatory phrase ‘painted women’ was not accidental.
Not a border but a highway
As we were travelling up the West coast of Scotland on the way to Glencoe (usually mentioned with the word ‘massacre’ immediately after it), we passed a tall mound rising out of the bog plain. This was Dunadd, a Dark Ages hill fort stronghold. It was believed to have been the capital of the ancient kingdom of Dál Riata or Dál Riada, which used to be the centre of a kingdom that linked the Western Isles and adjacent countryside, including Kintyre, with Antrim in Northern Ireland.
‘For these ancient peoples, from a world where ships were as familiar as cars are to us, the sea was not a border that divided countries but a highway that united them – a completely different and thoroughly modern view unlike our present troubled times.’
It was established after the Romans had abandoned Britain and included parts of Western Scotland and North Eastern Ireland, on each side of the North Channel. At its height in the late 6th and early 7th centuries, it encompassed roughly what is now Argyll in Scotland and part of County Antrim in the Irish province of Ulster. Within Dál Riata was the important monastery of Iona, which played a key role in the spread of Celtic Christianity throughout northern Britain. Iona was a centre of learning and produced many important manuscripts. Dál Riata also had a strong seafaring culture and a large naval fleet.
The wild west coast was dramatic and moody - and grey. I liked all of Scotland, but in some ways the west was the best, definitely for landscape.
It fascinated me because for these ancient peoples, from a world where ships were as familiar as cars are to us, the sea was not a border that divided countries but a highway that united them – a completely different and thoroughly modern view unlike our present troubled times. This maritime connection is at the heart of the history of this part of the world.
By this stage I was starting to get tired of castle and estates and long for canals and industrial ruins.
In their excellent book about the Iceland sagas, ‘Saga land’, Richard Fidler and Kari Gislason, noted how different the Viking view of borders was. A map of the Norse world in the Middle Ages might appear to the modern eye as a scattering of isolated outposts, separated by stretches of icy water, but the sea-going Vikings saw their realm quite differently: as a network of settlements connected by maritime highways, which they traversed with comparative ease, trading goods, information and ideas.
While we were staying at Saddell we took advantage of the washing machines in the old coach house to clean all our clothes. Then a few days later, exploring the surroundings of an ancient castle near Oban, I slipped in the peaty mud. It reminded me of slipping on ice in Canada decades before when the ground just vanished beneath my feet – that feeling as your feet go completely out from under you. I ended up with a pair of trousers coated in mud and two coats and a bag with a liberal dash. We had to rinse them all in the bath in Glencoe and, later, search out a laundromat – the milder perils of travelling near mud.
I didn't have a clear picture of what I expected Glencoe to look like – what it was didn't match any picture I had. After a night there we left the mist, rain and lochs of Glencoe and headed north through Fort William and then eastwards across Scotland, skirting the southern edge of the Highlands. The day had become clearer. We seemed to have passed all the road signs that spoke eloquently of the sort of country it was – warning of sheep, pheasants, deer, elderly people and weak bridges on the road. In true Australian fashion, I immediately thought of ‘piss weak bridges’ – I couldn’t escape the vernacular I grew up with. Driving through Scotland, with miles per hour signs everywhere, I found that decades after our conversion to metric, I was still able to think in terms of those antique speeds.
I kept thinking of the forlorn traveller's query: ‘where are we? What day is it?’ It was Sunday and we were in Pitlochry, reputedly the most visited place in Scotland. People flood here in summer, like the rain that had followed us across Scotland so far on our trip. We were staying in a charming small Edwardian villa overlooking the town, suitably in Golf Course Road. This was Perthshire, very different to the lochs and islands further West.
‘A map of the Norse world in the Middle Ages might appear to the modern eye as a scattering of isolated outposts, separated by stretches of icy water, but the sea-going Vikings saw their realm quite differently: as a network of settlements connected by maritime highways, which they traversed with comparative ease, trading goods, information and ideas.’
While we were staying at Saddell we took advantage of the washing machines in the old coach house to clean all our clothes. Then a few days later, exploring the surroundings of an ancient castle near Oban, I slipped in the peaty mud. It reminded me of slipping on ice in Canada decades before when the ground just vanished beneath my feet – that feeling as your feet go completely out from under you. I ended up with a pair of trousers coated in mud and two coats and a bag with a liberal dash. We had to rinse them all in the bath in Glencoe and, later, search out a laundromat – the milder perils of travelling near mud.
The route north towards Glencoe was dotted with ancient graves and lanscapes.
I didn't have a clear picture of what I expected Glencoe to look like – what it was didn't match any picture I had. After a night there we left the mist, rain and lochs of Glencoe and headed north through Fort William and then eastwards across Scotland, skirting the southern edge of the Highlands. The day had become clearer. We seemed to have passed all the road signs that spoke eloquently of the sort of country it was – warning of sheep, pheasants, deer, elderly people and weak bridges on the road. In true Australian fashion, I immediately thought of ‘piss weak bridges’ – I couldn’t escape the vernacular I grew up with. Driving through Scotland, with miles per hour signs everywhere, I found that decades after our conversion to metric, I was still able to think in terms of those antique speeds.
On the way to Pitlochry we stopped at Blair Athol.
I kept thinking of the forlorn traveller's query: ‘where are we? What day is it?’ It was Sunday and we were in Pitlochry, reputedly the most visited place in Scotland. People flood here in summer, like the rain that had followed us across Scotland so far on our trip. We were staying in a charming small Edwardian villa overlooking the town, suitably in Golf Course Road. This was Perthshire, very different to the lochs and islands further West.
Beer with a chuckle - bitter and twisted was a brand that struck me.
We were just south of the Cairngorms National Park and in Glencoe we had been at the foot of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in the UK, but this was gentler countryside. Further North were the Speyside distilleries that produce a distinctive style of Scotch whiskey – distillery tours are big business. At one point the seat of royal power in Scotland was transferred to Scone, near Perth, just south of where we were. Before that it was lodged firmly further west.
A home suspended above water
While in Pitlochry we visited Aberfeldy and down the road on Loch Tay a fantastic museum run by archaeologists, which had a full scale replica of a crannoch, a roundhouse dwelling on timber posts out in the water – an artificial island. The people who created the originals 2,500 years ago, were highly successful farmers and traders long before the Romans arrived. I couldn’t help thinking about the artificial islands being built now by the Chinese in the South China Sea.
A home suspended above water
While in Pitlochry we visited Aberfeldy and down the road on Loch Tay a fantastic museum run by archaeologists, which had a full scale replica of a crannoch, a roundhouse dwelling on timber posts out in the water – an artificial island. The people who created the originals 2,500 years ago, were highly successful farmers and traders long before the Romans arrived. I couldn’t help thinking about the artificial islands being built now by the Chinese in the South China Sea.
Floating island - a re-imagined and rebuilt crannoch, a home on timber piles driven into the floor of the loch, above the waters of Loch Tay.
The crannochs were by far one of the highlights of our visit to Scotland.
The next day we intended to head to St Andrews, with numerous distractions along the way. When we arrived there, we found parking to be a major issue in the Old Town. We were staying at the sprawling Fairmont Resort about 15 minutes south of the town. To get there we drove through the heart of St Andrews and it looked so impressive that we planned to head back there straight after breakfast.
Travelling means that you keep finding tiny containers of long life milk in your room wherever you go. A woman I used to work with back in the days of the National Cultural Policy Task Force was travelling in France when she encountered them. She explained to her French hosts that Australians would only use them if all the cows had died.
‘That day was a heatwave for Scotland, reaching 16 degrees. One person we met told us that he had been about to land in Melbourne when it was announced that the temperature there was 42 degrees. He was shocked, thinking it would be freezing – until he twigged that they were talking degrees Celsius, not Fahrenheit. Then he was really shocked.’
Our host in Pitlochry said that he thought St Andrews was the most beautiful town in Scotland – high praise from someone who lives in Pitlochry. Wandering around, we checked out the ancient streets – like the Altstadt town centres we are used to in German cities or French medieval towns.
A history of religious intolerance, the burning of innocent women labelled witches, massacres and executions - all the bad things about religion, rather than any good things (whatever they might be).
We were in a university town so we had to visit the Museum of the University of St Andrews. Scotland was highly advanced in the access to university education it provided, much earlier than England. We asked how much a university education costs nowadays – for Scots it is still free. Obviously neo-liberalism hasn't yet eroded the tertiary education sector as it has in Australia.
The most beautiful town in Scotland
Afterwards we had coffee in a place recommended at the Museum. At one table a woman was reading a book by Jacques Derrida. The coffee shop marketed itself as ‘where Kate met Wills’. Later we stopped at another, much more interesting coffee shop, where a sticker on its noticeboard billed it as ‘where Kate dumped Wills’.
St Andrews is a university town - always a good thing. I wasn't sure about Theology and Religious Studies next door to the School of Critical Studies - could be a blood bath.
Technically it was only a fortnight past the middle of summer in Scotland. Autumn would not have even begun until a week and a half after we arrived back in Australia. That day was a heatwave for Scotland, reaching 16 degrees. One person we met told us that he had been about to land in Melbourne when it was announced that the temperature there was 42 degrees. He was shocked, thinking it would be freezing – until he twigged that they were talking degrees Celsius, not Fahrenheit. Then he was really shocked. Still, I like this weather and it definitely doesn't have the colder edge of Canberra. I was yet to feel cold.
Welcoming window in St Andrews.
I was a bit over castles and churches and graveyards. I was over men in armour with swords massacring their neighbours, religious wars and private armies. That's why I found the farmers on the crannoch in Loch Tay from 2,500 years ago so fascinating. I was looking forward to Glasgow and Edinburgh.
‘I was a bit over castles and churches and graveyards. I was over men in armour with swords massacring their neighbours, religious wars and private armies. That's why I found the farmers on the crannoch in Loch Tay from 2,500 years ago so fascinating.’
I was very happy to be finally in Glasgow. On the way to the West Coast from New Lanark we had driven on motorways through the heart of the city, but gained a quick passing sense of what it might be like. We were staying in the Abode Glasgow, a fabulous old hotel which used to be the private residence of the first Scottish Prime Minister of the UK. He was a social reformer who died in office – murdered by ‘perfidious Albion’ most likely, or was that Princess Diana?
A passion for all things mechanical
Driving through Glasgow was relatively straightforward, mainly because I wasn't driving. Dropping off the bags was a challenge because we had to stop at a short length of designated curb that was in the middle of a bus stop – unfortunately no-one seemed to have told the bus drivers that. Then, when we had to drop the car off at Glasgow Central Station, we couldn't find a place to stop, so we had to pull into a back lane, ring the car company and wait for a charming young Scots woman with a passion for all things mechanical to come and find us.
Glasgow at last, a city packed with heritage, learning, culture and creativity - and some gritty history.
We happily left her with the vehicle after getting lots of tips about Glasgow. I remembered in an earlier life, dropping off a hire care that we had driven from Nice to Florence. After circling the city on a series of one way and no go streets, we parked the car, walked to the hire car office and defeatedly described where we had left the car.
On the way from St Andrews we drove along the Fife coast, through Dunfermline – a town that had an ancient abbey burned down during the Reformation, in which Robert the Bruce is buried. Apart from the mouldering abbey it seemed to have a lot of empty hairdressing shops, thrift shops and idle pensioners.
On the way from St Andrews we drove along the Fife coast, through Dunfermline – a town that had an ancient abbey burned down during the Reformation, in which Robert the Bruce is buried. Apart from the mouldering abbey it seemed to have a lot of empty hairdressing shops, thrift shops and idle pensioners.
The legendary gold course at St Andrews.
We stopped at what turned out to be another highlight of the trip – Culross, one of the very first properties the National Trust for Scotland bought after its founding in 1931. It is a carefully preserved and restored 16th and 17th Century township, with locals still living there. The ‘castle’ of the successful entrepreneur who established the coal and salt industry in the town was a much more modest estate. For the first time in our tours of historic estates, we walked through a kitchen and wine cellar and a terraced working garden full of herbs and flowers. This, as we approach the end of the era of coal, was a town from the very beginnings of the age of coal.
I had hardly thought about Canberra and its occupying power of fly in, fly out workers. The garden was being cared for by our nine year old neighbour, so we could leave worrying about that. We had really settled into the travelling mode. Glasgow was astounding. In our three days there, we saw a lot, though we just skimmed the surface, and we were exhausted from all the walking. Luckily we discovered the subway, where in compact tubes we hurtled from station to station, covering distances it would have taken far too long to walk.
Some serious museums
The subway made it possible to see some serious museums at the University of Glasgow and we went back there two days in a row to see more. We wandered in the Hunterian Museum, equally amazed at the building and the collection.
‘I remembered in an earlier life, dropping off a hire care that we had driven from Nice to Florence. After circling the city on a series of one way and no go streets, we parked the car, walked to the hire car office and defeatedly described where we had left the car.’
I had hardly thought about Canberra and its occupying power of fly in, fly out workers. The garden was being cared for by our nine year old neighbour, so we could leave worrying about that. We had really settled into the travelling mode. Glasgow was astounding. In our three days there, we saw a lot, though we just skimmed the surface, and we were exhausted from all the walking. Luckily we discovered the subway, where in compact tubes we hurtled from station to station, covering distances it would have taken far too long to walk.
Some serious museums
The subway made it possible to see some serious museums at the University of Glasgow and we went back there two days in a row to see more. We wandered in the Hunterian Museum, equally amazed at the building and the collection.
Glasgow's maritime heritage was celebrated in its own museum on the Clyde.
Having driven fruitlessly to find traces of the Roman Antonine Wall – the later wall far further North than Hadrian’s Wall – we discovered an excellent collection of material from it. The universities in Scotland are very old and fascinating and the University of Glasgow is exceptional. Those old collectors were at it all the time. If you stood still, you were likely to be collected.
We spent ages in the Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum, amongst a huge range of exhibitions checked out the one on Rennie Mackintosh and his contemporaries. I visited the sites of both the Glasgow School of Art and the Willow Tearooms but both were shrouded in hoarding and scaffolding, with renovation and repair work (especially the Art School after the fire which had broken out three years before) It was not due to be finished for years. Shockingly, it was to burn again after we were there.
Guided by a slowly dissolving map
Then I walked for ages in the rain, guided by a slowly dissolving map, to the Riverside Museum to see the massive transport and technology collection. After that I was over it all and had to have lunch at 4.30 pm – lentil soup and a local stout, ‘March of the Penguins’.
‘I visited the sites of both the Glasgow School of Art and the Willow Tearooms but both were shrouded in hoarding and scaffolding, with renovation and repair work (especially the Art School after the fire which had broken out three years before) It was not due to be finished for years. Shockingly, it was to burn again after we were there.’
Guided by a slowly dissolving map
Then I walked for ages in the rain, guided by a slowly dissolving map, to the Riverside Museum to see the massive transport and technology collection. After that I was over it all and had to have lunch at 4.30 pm – lentil soup and a local stout, ‘March of the Penguins’.
The subway in Glasgow was very compact, but whizzed you round the city in no time.
What really impressed me was that in Rennie Mackintosh’s time arts, culture and design were a crucial part of the economy and in recent decades, Glasgow has deliberately continued this focus as other traditional industries have declined. We visited the Lighthouse Centre and I walked past the offices of Creative Scotland. It reminded me of how around the time I left the public service, I saw a job there, working on creative industries and thought how – if the time had been different – it would have been one of those ideal jobs overseas.
We had a view from our hotel window across the roofs of Glasgow. It looked very attractive, particularly in the rain. On our second night we took a taxi to the Crab Shakk, which billed itself as ‘cracking good food’. It was on a street full of activity in Finnieston, just past the inner city, near the University of Glasgow. It was a tiny place with excellent food. I had grilled scallops and then a great bowl of steamed mussels, with a Spanish sherry and a glass of French viognier. We arrived early so we had a couple of single malts in a bustling pub beforehand.
Timorous beasties reinventing fabric design
One of the best things we did in Glasgow was visit local design legend firm, Timorous Beasties, and buy a cushion cover from them. They have reinvented the fabric designs of the era of the Great Exhibitions and made them a modern phenomena.
In the Glasgow museums, in between fuming at the dumb tourists who thought it was okay to use flashes for all their photos, I also discovered some truths about Scottish history. Tartans only emerged after the 1850s and Bonnie Prince Charlie had a career-ending finale to his failed attempt at restoring the Stuart monarchy, when his wife left him to die of alcoholism in Rome.
Then, before we knew it, it was time to catch the cross country train to Edinburgh. After we got off at Waverley Station, in the heart of Edinburgh, it continued on its way through Durham and York – where we were planning to drive after Edinburgh – all the way to Penzance. In the street, we passed a woman with pusher and a mother with walker – two trolleys from different stages of life in Edinburgh.
A wonder to behold
The day we arrived from Glasgow, we spent much of the day in the National Museum of Scotland, which was a wonder to behold. We planned to go back there again the following day. With its great light-filled colonnade of iron and glass it was a living embodiment of the great international exhibitions of the second half of the 19th Century – like the Crystal Palace in London and the Sydney version in the Botanic Gardens that – before it burned down – inspired the foundation of the Powerhouse Museum.
‘Arts, culture and design were a crucial part of the economy and in recent decades, Glasgow has deliberately continued this focus as other traditional industries have declined.’
We had a view from our hotel window across the roofs of Glasgow. It looked very attractive, particularly in the rain. On our second night we took a taxi to the Crab Shakk, which billed itself as ‘cracking good food’. It was on a street full of activity in Finnieston, just past the inner city, near the University of Glasgow. It was a tiny place with excellent food. I had grilled scallops and then a great bowl of steamed mussels, with a Spanish sherry and a glass of French viognier. We arrived early so we had a couple of single malts in a bustling pub beforehand.
Timorous beasties reinventing fabric design
One of the best things we did in Glasgow was visit local design legend firm, Timorous Beasties, and buy a cushion cover from them. They have reinvented the fabric designs of the era of the Great Exhibitions and made them a modern phenomena.
A child of my parents, who grew during World War 2, I couldn't go past a Spitfire.
In the Glasgow museums, in between fuming at the dumb tourists who thought it was okay to use flashes for all their photos, I also discovered some truths about Scottish history. Tartans only emerged after the 1850s and Bonnie Prince Charlie had a career-ending finale to his failed attempt at restoring the Stuart monarchy, when his wife left him to die of alcoholism in Rome.
‘I also discovered some truths about Scottish history. Tartans only emerged after the 1850s and Bonnie Prince Charlie had a career-ending finale to his failed attempt at restoring the Stuart monarchy, when his wife left him to die of alcoholism in Rome.’
Then, before we knew it, it was time to catch the cross country train to Edinburgh. After we got off at Waverley Station, in the heart of Edinburgh, it continued on its way through Durham and York – where we were planning to drive after Edinburgh – all the way to Penzance. In the street, we passed a woman with pusher and a mother with walker – two trolleys from different stages of life in Edinburgh.
A wonder to behold
The day we arrived from Glasgow, we spent much of the day in the National Museum of Scotland, which was a wonder to behold. We planned to go back there again the following day. With its great light-filled colonnade of iron and glass it was a living embodiment of the great international exhibitions of the second half of the 19th Century – like the Crystal Palace in London and the Sydney version in the Botanic Gardens that – before it burned down – inspired the foundation of the Powerhouse Museum.
Getting a haircut in Glasgow.
In an unlikely intersection we arrived on the last day a friend from Sydney was in Edinburgh, attending a British Council forum of arts people from around the world. We had lunch with her atop the Museum before she headed to the airport at 3 am the next morning.
‘With its great light-filled colonnade of iron and glass it was a living embodiment of the great international exhibitions of the second half of the 19th Century – like the Crystal Palace in London and the Sydney version in the Botanic Gardens that – before it burned down – inspired the foundation of the Powerhouse Museum.’
Travelling is a bit like standing in the shower it's amazing how many ideas you think of when you don't have a pen in your hand. After being in the UK, I became convinced the reason for Brexit was that the British became sick of not knowing whether to walk on the right or the left – it was certainly an issue while we there.
Shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip
After Glasgow we were a bit shocked by the packed crowds on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh – Edinburgh Festival and the Fringe both ended the day after we arrived, so there were people everywhere, shoulder to shoulder and hip to hip. I think I'm over crowds, so I should probably avoid visiting a city when it has a festival. When it has a festival and a fringe festival, it's even worse.
Graffitti in Edinburgh.
When I was organising the trip, I discovered that by sheer accident our dates for Edinburgh coincided with the last week of the two events – so I hastily booked accommodation. We ended up staying on The Royal Mile, at the other end of the thoroughfare from Edinburgh Castle. There were Fringe performers everywhere. In fact the never-ending offers of flyers for shows reminded me of the groups of chuggers (‘charity muggers’) who used to besiege us every lunchtime when the Ministry for the Arts was briefly based in the city centre in Canberra.
Pokey, hokey and tacky
Unfortunately add tourism, souvenirs and old buildings and lots of the Royal Mile looked pokey, hokey and tacky. Throw in associated tawdry events, like the Edinburgh Cocktail Festival, and there was definitely a less salubrious side to cultural tourism. As someone who has worked in the cultural sector all my life, perhaps I'll eventually be held to account for all the poor murals and boozy festivals I've helped encourage.
I remember many years ago seeing the suggestion that ‘white’ people should more accurately be called pink people. Obviously nowadays Scotland was more representative of the diversity of the planet, but for some reason, my visit there reminded me of this old comment.
The spacious and elegant New Town
After a few days of frenetic activity, we had a rest morning, so we hadn't yet made it back to the National Museum of Scotland, but we had visited a Georgian house run by the National Trust in the spacious and elegant New Town, booked a visit to Edinburgh Castle (‘don't go in the morning’) and had a fabulous roast beef lunch with all the trimmings, a glass of French Merlot and rhubarb and berry crumble in The Printing Press Bar and Kitchen, in a massive Georgian terrace in the New Town. As we often did, we had lunch at 4 pm because we'd been seeing too much and walking too far.
Pokey, hokey and tacky
Unfortunately add tourism, souvenirs and old buildings and lots of the Royal Mile looked pokey, hokey and tacky. Throw in associated tawdry events, like the Edinburgh Cocktail Festival, and there was definitely a less salubrious side to cultural tourism. As someone who has worked in the cultural sector all my life, perhaps I'll eventually be held to account for all the poor murals and boozy festivals I've helped encourage.
‘I remember many years ago seeing the suggestion that ‘white’ people should more accurately be called pink people. Obviously nowadays Scotland was more representative of the diversity of the planet, but for some reason, my visit there reminded me of this old comment.’
I remember many years ago seeing the suggestion that ‘white’ people should more accurately be called pink people. Obviously nowadays Scotland was more representative of the diversity of the planet, but for some reason, my visit there reminded me of this old comment.
The spacious and elegant New Town
After a few days of frenetic activity, we had a rest morning, so we hadn't yet made it back to the National Museum of Scotland, but we had visited a Georgian house run by the National Trust in the spacious and elegant New Town, booked a visit to Edinburgh Castle (‘don't go in the morning’) and had a fabulous roast beef lunch with all the trimmings, a glass of French Merlot and rhubarb and berry crumble in The Printing Press Bar and Kitchen, in a massive Georgian terrace in the New Town. As we often did, we had lunch at 4 pm because we'd been seeing too much and walking too far.
The glorious Georgian architecture of the Edinburgh New Town.
I've often been disappointed by draught beer in the UK – it seemed to taste flat. I realised that in the country that invented the real ale movement, draught beer is often carbonated much less than Australian tastes are accustomed to. Still, there was always French (and Argentinian, Chilean and Italian) wine. There was also Australian and New Zealand wine – but always from companies I had never heard of.
While we were in Edinburgh, I heard that it had snowed in Canberra – it helped keep summer in Scotland in perspective. At one point we realised we were walking past the National Library of Scotland, so we popped in and saw an exhibition about Shackleton's expedition to Antarctica, with material from Australian institutions and obviously lots of Frank Hurley photographs. I hadn't realised that when the crew were forced to abandon ‘Endurance’, Hurley took 150 of his best glass negatives, but was forced to break and abandon another 400.
There are obviously lots of tourists here - though it was much quieter after the festival had finished – but I was particularly conscious of hearing Spanish. Maybe it was hot in Spain.
Turning an everyday act of loyalty into a traitorous nod
Back at the National Museum in their massive Scottish galleries, I was reminded of how a glass of wine toasting the king used to be held over a bowl of water, turning an everyday act of loyalty into a traitorous nod to the Stuart king ‘over the water’. It's interesting the way the growing Protestantism of the Scots conflicted with their leaning to the Catholic Stuarts. By this stage I was ready to call it a day and be grateful that in the contemporary world, kings and church and superstition had, at least partially, been replaced by democracy, science and learning.
With the rubbish strewn through the Old Town as the Fringe wound up, it was easy to imagine how in medieval times the inhabitants used to empty their household waste directly into the street. Since the Queen was not in residence at the Palace of Holyrood House just down the road, and hence the hoi polloi were allowed access, we had booked afternoon tea with champagne in the café there. Unfortunately, it looked like it would be disappointing and the queues were long, so we quietly cancelled and headed uptown for a superb late lunch at Ondine restaurant – several courses of fish and clam chowder, mussels and North Sea cod with some nice French and Italian wines.
Never far from the coast
Once again, as in Manchester, we were reminded how good seafood can be in the UK and how, no matter where you are in the UK, you are actually never far from the coast. As a result we seemed to be eating a lot of seafood. The UK is so small, it's like one massive coastal town, so you find seafood everywhere. When we drove further South towards York, we drove past he Eastern end of Hadrian's Wall, but we were still very close to Carlisle, near the other end. It was illuminating to think we had driven through there on the way up to Scotland almost three weeks before. After lunch, the more enthusiastic amongst us suggested they might visit Holyrood the next day, but it didn’t eventuate.
We’d managed to largely ignore what was happening in Australia, but some issues were too pressing and important not to comment. I posted to social media – ‘Hard to believe the Catholic Church (as distinct from Catholics) has a single ounce of authority left to comment on anything moral, let alone a civil, secular matter about human rights – an area where, ironically, it has often taken a good stand in the past. To my mind, this flawed vote isn't about marriage equality – it's about whether Australia is a modern 21st Century country or not. I'll be voting yes – as the old adage says ‘early and often’.
‘I realised that in the country that invented the real ale movement, draught beer is often carbonated much less than Australian tastes are accustomed to.’
The Edinburgh Old Town rose up around us.
There are obviously lots of tourists here - though it was much quieter after the festival had finished – but I was particularly conscious of hearing Spanish. Maybe it was hot in Spain.
Turning an everyday act of loyalty into a traitorous nod
Back at the National Museum in their massive Scottish galleries, I was reminded of how a glass of wine toasting the king used to be held over a bowl of water, turning an everyday act of loyalty into a traitorous nod to the Stuart king ‘over the water’. It's interesting the way the growing Protestantism of the Scots conflicted with their leaning to the Catholic Stuarts. By this stage I was ready to call it a day and be grateful that in the contemporary world, kings and church and superstition had, at least partially, been replaced by democracy, science and learning.
‘I was reminded of how a glass of wine toasting the king used to be held over a bowl of water, turning an everyday act of loyalty into a traitorous nod to the Stuart king “over the water”.’
With the rubbish strewn through the Old Town as the Fringe wound up, it was easy to imagine how in medieval times the inhabitants used to empty their household waste directly into the street. Since the Queen was not in residence at the Palace of Holyrood House just down the road, and hence the hoi polloi were allowed access, we had booked afternoon tea with champagne in the café there. Unfortunately, it looked like it would be disappointing and the queues were long, so we quietly cancelled and headed uptown for a superb late lunch at Ondine restaurant – several courses of fish and clam chowder, mussels and North Sea cod with some nice French and Italian wines.
Never far from the coast
Once again, as in Manchester, we were reminded how good seafood can be in the UK and how, no matter where you are in the UK, you are actually never far from the coast. As a result we seemed to be eating a lot of seafood. The UK is so small, it's like one massive coastal town, so you find seafood everywhere. When we drove further South towards York, we drove past he Eastern end of Hadrian's Wall, but we were still very close to Carlisle, near the other end. It was illuminating to think we had driven through there on the way up to Scotland almost three weeks before. After lunch, the more enthusiastic amongst us suggested they might visit Holyrood the next day, but it didn’t eventuate.
‘We were reminded how good seafood can be in the UK and how, no matter where you are in the UK, you are actually never far from the coast. As a result we seemed to be eating a lot of seafood. The UK is so small, it's like one massive coastal town, so you find seafood everywhere.’
We’d managed to largely ignore what was happening in Australia, but some issues were too pressing and important not to comment. I posted to social media – ‘Hard to believe the Catholic Church (as distinct from Catholics) has a single ounce of authority left to comment on anything moral, let alone a civil, secular matter about human rights – an area where, ironically, it has often taken a good stand in the past. To my mind, this flawed vote isn't about marriage equality – it's about whether Australia is a modern 21st Century country or not. I'll be voting yes – as the old adage says ‘early and often’.
The National Museum of Scotland - reflecting the cast iron structures of the great exhibitions of the 19th Century.
Over a glass of Scotch whisky, we were talking to a young Russian barman who grew up in Latvia. He had lived in London and we asked him what he thought of Scotland. It turned out he loved its smaller, less frenetic pace and thought that Scotland was a much safer place to end up post-Brexit – economically and in other respects. We were discussing population figures and realised some illuminating comparisons. At last count, the population of Edinburgh was just under 500,000. Glasgow was just under 600,000. Manchester was slightly smaller than Glasgow, with 530,000. Canberra was almost 360,000, though that was back in 2011. In comparison Sydney was just over 4 million. The population of the whole of Scotland was only 5.3 million. London was 8.8 million.
Watching Scottish television in Gaelic
I had been watching Scottish television in Gaelic. I've never heard the language spoken at any length before and I was fascinated. It sounds a bit like a Scandinavian language. After the experience of encountering the First Nations languages activists I came to know while working in the Indigenous cultural programs of the Australian Government, it had a special resonance. Disconcertingly it was a cooking program and they were frying ram's testicles in a cream and whisky sauce. I don't think it was Scottish cuisine, but rather Scottish chefs trying other cuisines in Gaelic. The presenters looked pretty dubious, but I suppose if you can eat haggis, you can eat anything.
.jpg)
We discovered some excellent places tucked around the Royal Mile or in the New Town. We started having breakfast and light evening snacks in our room rather than eating out all the time. Then we discovered the Marks and Spencer Food Hall – marvellous.
If there was a single performance that caught my eye in either the Edinburgh Festival or the Fringe, it was ‘Oresteia: This Restless House’, a reimagining of Aeschylus’ two and a half thousand years old epic Greek saga. Originally a trilogy of plays, now one event, Zinnie Harris’ work had been nominated for ‘Best New Play’ at the UK Theatre Awards in 2016, and was awarded Best New Play and Best Director at the 2016 Critics’ Awards for Theatre in Scotland. Pauline Knowles was awarded Best Actress for her role as the vengeful Clytemnestra. In the end I didn’t actually go to anything, which probably accurately sums up my relationship with theatre.
As August drew to a close, post festival, Edinburgh was a much quieter place. It was still reasonably busy but it did make me think of when I landed in New York ages ago on the day after New Year. It was freezing but at the Statue of Liberty there were discarded crowd barriers everywhere and I shared the visit with no-one else but a couple of Japanese tourists. Yesterday, wandering about we bumped into a friend from Canberra – how likely is that? Even more unlikely, several days later we bumped into him again in York, coming out of a coffee shop. We didn't even know he was coming to York. The odds against this seemed incalculable.
Artificially inflated prices
As always, the economics of the time were interesting. Whenever I drink tea I am reminded of reading in the Georgian House in the New Town that the East India Company, which had been granted a monopoly by the government, artificially inflated prices. How familiar that sounds. Tea was kept locked up and a special reward for a servant was to allow them to sell used tea in the market. I can't help thinking that, after all those centuries of resisting the Romans and the English, before finally surrendering, the best deal for Scotland would still be to be part of the UK that was part of the EU.
The problem with travel is that you need to visit a place first to know where to go. Repeat visits are very productive. My fellow traveller hates me saying this over and over, but when once I briefly visited New Orleans, it was only as I flew out that I knew the places I should have gone. Walking around a city, it's hard to know the good places to eat and drink. In the end, I decided the clue might be interesting fonts. This was an insight that struck me again two years later in Berlin.
Boulten and Watt steam engine
As our visit to Edinburgh drew to a close, we spent our our third and final day at the National Museum. The Powerhouse Museum is very proud of its Boulten and Watt steam engine and I saw they also had one in the Museum in Edinburgh. Then we went to Edinburgh Castle, mingling with the crowds high above the city. The accommodation was fairly spartan. You can see why the kings of Scotland moved their residence to Holyrood House.
Watching Scottish television in Gaelic
I had been watching Scottish television in Gaelic. I've never heard the language spoken at any length before and I was fascinated. It sounds a bit like a Scandinavian language. After the experience of encountering the First Nations languages activists I came to know while working in the Indigenous cultural programs of the Australian Government, it had a special resonance. Disconcertingly it was a cooking program and they were frying ram's testicles in a cream and whisky sauce. I don't think it was Scottish cuisine, but rather Scottish chefs trying other cuisines in Gaelic. The presenters looked pretty dubious, but I suppose if you can eat haggis, you can eat anything.
.jpg)
Scottish history was a hotbed of ideas and learning - influential economist Adam Smith dominates the Royal Mile of the Old Town.
We discovered some excellent places tucked around the Royal Mile or in the New Town. We started having breakfast and light evening snacks in our room rather than eating out all the time. Then we discovered the Marks and Spencer Food Hall – marvellous.
‘I had been watching Scottish television in Gaelic. Disconcertingly it was a cooking program and they were frying ram's testicles in a cream and whisky sauce. I don't think it was Scottish cuisine, but rather Scottish chefs trying other cuisines in Gaelic. The presenters looked pretty dubious, but I suppose if you can eat haggis, you can eat anything.’
If there was a single performance that caught my eye in either the Edinburgh Festival or the Fringe, it was ‘Oresteia: This Restless House’, a reimagining of Aeschylus’ two and a half thousand years old epic Greek saga. Originally a trilogy of plays, now one event, Zinnie Harris’ work had been nominated for ‘Best New Play’ at the UK Theatre Awards in 2016, and was awarded Best New Play and Best Director at the 2016 Critics’ Awards for Theatre in Scotland. Pauline Knowles was awarded Best Actress for her role as the vengeful Clytemnestra. In the end I didn’t actually go to anything, which probably accurately sums up my relationship with theatre.
‘In the end I didn’t actually go to anything, which probably accurately sums up my relationship with theatre.’
As August drew to a close, post festival, Edinburgh was a much quieter place. It was still reasonably busy but it did make me think of when I landed in New York ages ago on the day after New Year. It was freezing but at the Statue of Liberty there were discarded crowd barriers everywhere and I shared the visit with no-one else but a couple of Japanese tourists. Yesterday, wandering about we bumped into a friend from Canberra – how likely is that? Even more unlikely, several days later we bumped into him again in York, coming out of a coffee shop. We didn't even know he was coming to York. The odds against this seemed incalculable.
Artificially inflated prices
As always, the economics of the time were interesting. Whenever I drink tea I am reminded of reading in the Georgian House in the New Town that the East India Company, which had been granted a monopoly by the government, artificially inflated prices. How familiar that sounds. Tea was kept locked up and a special reward for a servant was to allow them to sell used tea in the market. I can't help thinking that, after all those centuries of resisting the Romans and the English, before finally surrendering, the best deal for Scotland would still be to be part of the UK that was part of the EU.
‘We bumped into a friend from Canberra – how likely is that? Even more unlikely, several days later we bumped into him again in York, coming out of a coffee shop. We didn't even know he was coming to York. The odds against this seemed incalculable.’
The problem with travel is that you need to visit a place first to know where to go. Repeat visits are very productive. My fellow traveller hates me saying this over and over, but when once I briefly visited New Orleans, it was only as I flew out that I knew the places I should have gone. Walking around a city, it's hard to know the good places to eat and drink. In the end, I decided the clue might be interesting fonts. This was an insight that struck me again two years later in Berlin.
Boulten and Watt steam engine
As our visit to Edinburgh drew to a close, we spent our our third and final day at the National Museum. The Powerhouse Museum is very proud of its Boulten and Watt steam engine and I saw they also had one in the Museum in Edinburgh. Then we went to Edinburgh Castle, mingling with the crowds high above the city. The accommodation was fairly spartan. You can see why the kings of Scotland moved their residence to Holyrood House.
Edinburgh Castle rises above the city at the end of the Royal Mile.
To cap the day off we had dinner at famed gastropub, the Scran and Scallie, and then walked back to our hotel through Stockbridge and the New Town, stopping for a final drink at our favourite watering hole, The Printing Press. Then it was time to leave Scotland, bound for Durham, then York and all things Roman.
‘Once I briefly visited New Orleans, it was only as I flew out that I knew the places I should have gone. Walking around a city, it's hard to know the good places to eat and drink. In the end, I decided the clue might be interesting fonts. This was an insight that struck me again two years later in Berlin.’
After taking ages getting away with the hire car at Edinburgh Airport (is it always so?), and after stopping at Floors Castle and Jedburgh, we realised we would be too late to see the Eastern end of Hadrian's Wall and postponed that until the next day. Floors Castle was still lived in, so it had more of a lively feel, and the gardens were extensive and very impressive.
Angel of the North
Because we had postponed our visit to Hadrian's Wall, we diverted through Newcastle on Tyne at peak hour (bad move) because we wanted to see the Angel of the North. It was quite moving to see her loom up over the trees. This massive sculpture in coreten steel acknowledges many of the old declining or vanished industries that made the North of England great. When I enrolled in a camera course earlier in the year, the fieldwork involved photography at the National Gallery sculpture garden and by the Lake I came across a much smaller marquette for the sculpture. I photographed it, knowing we were going to see the original. I rediscovered exactly the same technical challenges in England, trying to photograph the sculpture with a bright sun behind.
In Durham, we found ourselves in an old but charming inn, though the fan in the bathroom sounded like a helicopter gunship and the English habit of keeping their pets in their rooms was somewhat unfamiliar. After our arrival in Durham, we walked across the River Wear into the city and wandered the old medieval streets checking out the university grounds and Durham Cathedral. The scale and complexity of the arched roof of the Cathedral was really impressive, probably more so than any building we had seen on the trip – still, I always wondered how many people died building these vast structures.
Because we had postponed our visit to Hadrian's Wall, we diverted through Newcastle on Tyne at peak hour (bad move) because we wanted to see the Angel of the North. It was quite moving to see her loom up over the trees. This massive sculpture in coreten steel acknowledges many of the old declining or vanished industries that made the North of England great. When I enrolled in a camera course earlier in the year, the fieldwork involved photography at the National Gallery sculpture garden and by the Lake I came across a much smaller marquette for the sculpture. I photographed it, knowing we were going to see the original. I rediscovered exactly the same technical challenges in England, trying to photograph the sculpture with a bright sun behind.
‘We wanted to see the Angel of the North. It was quite moving to see her loom up over the trees. This massive sculpture in coreten steel acknowledges many of the old declining or vanished industries that made the North of England great.’
In Durham, we found ourselves in an old but charming inn, though the fan in the bathroom sounded like a helicopter gunship and the English habit of keeping their pets in their rooms was somewhat unfamiliar. After our arrival in Durham, we walked across the River Wear into the city and wandered the old medieval streets checking out the university grounds and Durham Cathedral. The scale and complexity of the arched roof of the Cathedral was really impressive, probably more so than any building we had seen on the trip – still, I always wondered how many people died building these vast structures.
The Angel of the North - stunning icon of post-industrial Northern England.
After much walking around Durham, we were thinking about having have a quiet cup of tea. My fellow traveller commented that we had to go soon or tea time would turn into g&t time. Looking at dozens of cathedrals and castles, all with roof issues, I was beginning to develop a more philosophical view about the small leaks in our roof at home.
Not always wanting things to do
When we checked out of our accommodation in Durham, the woman at reception commented that we'd find more things to do in York. I replied that we'd found plenty to do in Durham. Her remarks got me thinking. I'm sure they are true but I realised that I don't always need to find things ‘to do’ in places we visit (or live, for that matter). Sometimes I'd like to find less things to do and just hang around and get a feel for a place. There had been lots to see and do during the trip – too much sometimes – and often it had been the unexpected surprises that were the most enjoyable.
In Durham, despite the grandeur of the cathedral, one of the best things we did was walk along the river and over the Prebends Bridge. The other thing we loved there was unexpectedly walking past an old converted building near our hotel and discovering a young woman – who as a child had lived for a while in Melbourne – had converted it to a public house, a small local makeshift alehouse, and was serving all the strange and unusual ales and perrys (pear ciders) of the district. We had a glass of real ale and one of perry. I thought of the expression ‘everything went pear shaped’, and wondered if you could substitute ‘cider shaped’. After our quiet drinks in such pleasant surroundings, we headed back across the bridge for dinner in a small funky restaurant – hand cut pappardelle, my favourite.
Several hours in Roman Central
After leaving Durham on our way to York, we backtracked and spent several hours in Roman Central – the remnants of Hadrian’s Wall and some of the settlements that preceded it round Hexham, inland from Newcastle on Tyne. We drove through the attractive village of Haydon Bridge and walked the length and breadth of Housesteads Roman Fort.
Not always wanting things to do
When we checked out of our accommodation in Durham, the woman at reception commented that we'd find more things to do in York. I replied that we'd found plenty to do in Durham. Her remarks got me thinking. I'm sure they are true but I realised that I don't always need to find things ‘to do’ in places we visit (or live, for that matter). Sometimes I'd like to find less things to do and just hang around and get a feel for a place. There had been lots to see and do during the trip – too much sometimes – and often it had been the unexpected surprises that were the most enjoyable.
‘My fellow traveller commented that we had to go soon or tea time would turn into g&t time. Looking at dozens of cathedrals and castles, all with roof issues, I was beginning to develop a more philosophical view about the small leaks in our roof at home.’
In Durham, despite the grandeur of the cathedral, one of the best things we did was walk along the river and over the Prebends Bridge. The other thing we loved there was unexpectedly walking past an old converted building near our hotel and discovering a young woman – who as a child had lived for a while in Melbourne – had converted it to a public house, a small local makeshift alehouse, and was serving all the strange and unusual ales and perrys (pear ciders) of the district. We had a glass of real ale and one of perry. I thought of the expression ‘everything went pear shaped’, and wondered if you could substitute ‘cider shaped’. After our quiet drinks in such pleasant surroundings, we headed back across the bridge for dinner in a small funky restaurant – hand cut pappardelle, my favourite.
Several hours in Roman Central
After leaving Durham on our way to York, we backtracked and spent several hours in Roman Central – the remnants of Hadrian’s Wall and some of the settlements that preceded it round Hexham, inland from Newcastle on Tyne. We drove through the attractive village of Haydon Bridge and walked the length and breadth of Housesteads Roman Fort.
The Roman presence is still very evident across the North. A wall from one coast to the other makes sense when you realise how narrow the UK is at this point.
Then we went to Vindolanda, which we'd seen a lot about on British television documentaries. It is a series of some nine forts, from timber to stone, built on top of and adjacent to each other, over more than 300 years of Roman occupation. Some of the earlier structures are five meters below the surface.
Vindolanda - a living, working Roman archaelogical site.
It had been an active and ongoing archaeological site since the 19th Century and it was very much living archaeology, with tools and wheel barrows scattered across the extensive site. I couldn’t believe it – At the Roman sites I must have accidentally brushed my tablet camera controls and it started taking selfies. Lots of photos – 28 in all – of both the Roman sites we visited, particularly the first, were useless selfies of me grimacing as I tried to photograph some complicated stonework – which of course I didn’t get.
We woke up in York on a Sunday morning. I realised that we had arrived in both Edinburgh and York late on a Saturday, when we were tired and both cities were in full swing. The night we arrived we walked the short distance to the beautiful old medieval city – and it was old and checked out the street action. It was pretty lively, ranging from a few youths without many teeth, already too pissed to walk straight, to youthful mating rituals and energetic Saturday night excitement.
Completely defoliated
We came back to our hotel and had a burger in the bar. ‘Welcome to Yorkshire’, I thought – it was tasty but there it was, beef patty, bacon, cheese, all without even a passing gesture at any form of greenery. This burger had been completely defoliated.
‘At the Roman sites I must have accidentally brushed my tablet camera controls and it started taking selfies. Lots of photos – 28 in all – of both the Roman sites we visited, particularly the first, were useless selfies of me grimacing as I tried to photograph some complicated stonework – which of course I didn’t get.’
We woke up in York on a Sunday morning. I realised that we had arrived in both Edinburgh and York late on a Saturday, when we were tired and both cities were in full swing. The night we arrived we walked the short distance to the beautiful old medieval city – and it was old and checked out the street action. It was pretty lively, ranging from a few youths without many teeth, already too pissed to walk straight, to youthful mating rituals and energetic Saturday night excitement.
Completely defoliated
We came back to our hotel and had a burger in the bar. ‘Welcome to Yorkshire’, I thought – it was tasty but there it was, beef patty, bacon, cheese, all without even a passing gesture at any form of greenery. This burger had been completely defoliated.
Every town in Britain seems to have its famous celebrity - and York is no exception, happily recogniing its creative talent in a central position.
In York we wandered around the city, following the ancient walls and narrow medieval streets, the bridges and parks. A bonus was that York was full of bookshops. Afterwards, after an afternoon rest, we sipped exotic grapefruit gin, manzanilla sherry and grenache blanc (I don't think I'd encountered that before) in a small local pub, before having roast herbed Yorkshire lamb and roast pork belly and glasses of Chilean red in a tiny restaurant in Gillygate.
The next day we were off to the York Museum. It would be Romans as usual, but also time to find the Vikings. Experiencing the traces of the Romans in Britain made me think about our own history in Australia – while different, it all seemed so familiar. The local Britons and Scots resisted and accommodated the Romans and their massive and well-equipped armies at different times and in different ways. In the end the Roman armies left and the locals remained, though much affected by 400 years or so of occupation. They'd been building stone farm fences from the ruins ever since.
Not allowed to marry
In the Roman legions, rank and file soldiers were not allowed to marry – it sounds like the Catholic church. Maybe that's where it all started. It seems that the Romans conquered Britain because their legions were well-organised and trained, but they occupied it for so long because they were good administrators, they could successfully encompass diverse populations and they used education and literacy to hold it together.
‘We came back to our hotel and had a burger in the bar. “Welcome to Yorkshire”, I thought – it was tasty but there it was, beef patty, bacon, cheese, all without even a passing gesture at any form of greenery. This burger had been completely defoliated.’
The next day we were off to the York Museum. It would be Romans as usual, but also time to find the Vikings. Experiencing the traces of the Romans in Britain made me think about our own history in Australia – while different, it all seemed so familiar. The local Britons and Scots resisted and accommodated the Romans and their massive and well-equipped armies at different times and in different ways. In the end the Roman armies left and the locals remained, though much affected by 400 years or so of occupation. They'd been building stone farm fences from the ruins ever since.
Not allowed to marry
In the Roman legions, rank and file soldiers were not allowed to marry – it sounds like the Catholic church. Maybe that's where it all started. It seems that the Romans conquered Britain because their legions were well-organised and trained, but they occupied it for so long because they were good administrators, they could successfully encompass diverse populations and they used education and literacy to hold it together.
The narrow boats and canals of York were a sight to behold. I have long held a fascination for narrow boats.
My fellow traveller went off to see the massive York Minster. I thought I'd give it a miss. My heart sank when she said ‘I think we'll spend some time there’. I think I've seen enough churches (and castles and graveyards). When I read about the dissolution of the monasteries in the time of Henry VIII and the destruction of churches during the Reformation, I'm sad about the loss of heritage, but secretly I can see where they were coming from. Basically I blame the Normans – they were responsible for all those huge castles and churches, stamping their bullying authority on the world.
There seemed to be a lot of smoking in the UK, and the vaping craze had really taken hold. They were also very pet-friendly there. In Durham the people in the next room had their dog in with them – I don't know how, because the rooms were tiny. After York it was time to drive back to Manchester, then fly to Frankfurt and start the long haul to Singapore for a couple of days – before heading home.
Locals and tourists
When travelling I'm never sure who is a local and who is a tourist. For all I know everyone around me is a tourist. I always seem to get asked for directions in cities I know nothing about – talk about the blind leading the blind.
Back in Manchester at the Lowry again, for our final night before we flew out from the UK. I discovered that the Lowry is where the Manchester United team stays when it is in town. It is so close to the Manchester Arena, where the terror bombing happened, that some of the young girls, who were the main target of the bomber, ran to the Lowry for refuge, deeply in shock and covered in blood. Being back there reminded me that the guy I was talking to in the clothing store on our earlier visit mentioned something I had read about in Australia – that the bomber had been reported to authorities numerous times by members of the Muslim community but the warnings had been ignored or overlooked.
After dropping off the car, we did a couple of things that seemed a fitting end to our trip after a remorseless dose of castles, churches, graveyards and massacres. Firstly I went to the Peoples History Museum, which I missed when we were in Manchester the first time. This was illuminating for many reasons, but particularly because it had a section on the co-operative movement. On the way back to Manchester we had visited Rochdale, a post-industrial satellite city of Manchester, because Cornel's parents had met and married (and had their first child) there after World War 2, before moving to Australia. At the museum I discovered that this is where the co-operative movement originated in the 19th Century.
After this I had a fabulous porter beer (and a wine) in the Gaslight Bar, which we discovered at the end of our last visit, downstairs in a former soup kitchen in Spinningfields. Both of these last minute activities were a fine way to round off our visit –finishing in Manchester as we started.
Why people stay somewhere or leave or come back
Travelling around in a country from which so many of your forbears derive makes you ask why people stay somewhere or leave or come back and why they decide to make somewhere home. Obviously people follow education or work and careers or partners and friends or escape bad situations or limited opportunities. Apart from that, maybe it's just familiarity – living somewhere until you've been there so long it turns into home. It’s interesting to think about how and where people chose their homes.
I thought about people like my Uncle Jim, who settled in Belfast after World War 2, the Australian we met in the pub in Glencoe, who had abandoned Far North Queensland for Far North Scotland under some sort of cloud, the parents of my fellow traveller, who packed up and left Germany after World War 2 to go to England and then Australia, my parents who moved from Brisbane to Tasmania, in the 1950s, an island at the end of the earth. Even I had done my fair share of moving from city to city and state to state. I thought of a comment by a friend, that there would be far less problems in world if everyone stayed home – but it would be far less interesting.
I had noticed that the weather had slowly been turning to autumn. It was getting colder – time to go home. On the Lufthansa flight from Manchester to Frankfurt, I moved my watch forward an hour – already my time was creeping homewards towards Australia. The queue to get through security was never-ending. It took well over an hour in long snaking lines. Despite good crowd management – it reminded me of triage in emergency departments – with people on earlier flights being plucked out of the queue by security and hurried forward, an older airport like Manchester struggled to cope. In Frankfurt on the way, the people in the queue had to negotiate this themselves – much less effectively. I can't help thinking that terrorists have already partially succeeded when they manage to bring international movement of people to a crawl like this.
Avoiding large crowds
Travellers overseas are advised to avoid large crowds in public spaces. Standing in the queue at the airport it did go through my mind that the huge crowd stuck on the unscanned side of the security barriers was the biggest and most captive target I'd been in while we'd been away – there were far more people in one place than on any single flight.
‘It seems that the Romans conquered Britain because their legions were well-organised and trained, but they occupied it for so long because they were good administrators, they could successfully encompass diverse populations and they used education and literacy to hold it together.’
There seemed to be a lot of smoking in the UK, and the vaping craze had really taken hold. They were also very pet-friendly there. In Durham the people in the next room had their dog in with them – I don't know how, because the rooms were tiny. After York it was time to drive back to Manchester, then fly to Frankfurt and start the long haul to Singapore for a couple of days – before heading home.
Locals and tourists
When travelling I'm never sure who is a local and who is a tourist. For all I know everyone around me is a tourist. I always seem to get asked for directions in cities I know nothing about – talk about the blind leading the blind.
‘When travelling I'm never sure who is a local and who is a tourist. For all I know everyone around me is a tourist. I always seem to get asked for directions in cities I know nothing about – talk about the blind leading the blind.’
Back in Manchester at the Lowry again, for our final night before we flew out from the UK. I discovered that the Lowry is where the Manchester United team stays when it is in town. It is so close to the Manchester Arena, where the terror bombing happened, that some of the young girls, who were the main target of the bomber, ran to the Lowry for refuge, deeply in shock and covered in blood. Being back there reminded me that the guy I was talking to in the clothing store on our earlier visit mentioned something I had read about in Australia – that the bomber had been reported to authorities numerous times by members of the Muslim community but the warnings had been ignored or overlooked.
‘The Lowry is where the Manchester United team stays when it is in town. It is so close to the Manchester Arena, where the terror bombing happened, that some of the young girls, who were the main target of the bomber, ran to the Lowry for refuge, deeply in shock and covered in blood.’
After dropping off the car, we did a couple of things that seemed a fitting end to our trip after a remorseless dose of castles, churches, graveyards and massacres. Firstly I went to the Peoples History Museum, which I missed when we were in Manchester the first time. This was illuminating for many reasons, but particularly because it had a section on the co-operative movement. On the way back to Manchester we had visited Rochdale, a post-industrial satellite city of Manchester, because Cornel's parents had met and married (and had their first child) there after World War 2, before moving to Australia. At the museum I discovered that this is where the co-operative movement originated in the 19th Century.
One of the many striking union banners produced as organisation to protect employees against the worst of the Industrial Revolution developed.
After this I had a fabulous porter beer (and a wine) in the Gaslight Bar, which we discovered at the end of our last visit, downstairs in a former soup kitchen in Spinningfields. Both of these last minute activities were a fine way to round off our visit –finishing in Manchester as we started.
Why people stay somewhere or leave or come back
Travelling around in a country from which so many of your forbears derive makes you ask why people stay somewhere or leave or come back and why they decide to make somewhere home. Obviously people follow education or work and careers or partners and friends or escape bad situations or limited opportunities. Apart from that, maybe it's just familiarity – living somewhere until you've been there so long it turns into home. It’s interesting to think about how and where people chose their homes.
The terrace houses and viaducts of the North reflect its industrial history.
I thought about people like my Uncle Jim, who settled in Belfast after World War 2, the Australian we met in the pub in Glencoe, who had abandoned Far North Queensland for Far North Scotland under some sort of cloud, the parents of my fellow traveller, who packed up and left Germany after World War 2 to go to England and then Australia, my parents who moved from Brisbane to Tasmania, in the 1950s, an island at the end of the earth. Even I had done my fair share of moving from city to city and state to state. I thought of a comment by a friend, that there would be far less problems in world if everyone stayed home – but it would be far less interesting.
‘Travelling around in a country from which so many of your forbears derive makes you ask why people move anywhere – or stay there? I thought of a comment by a friend, that there would be far less problems in world if everyone stayed home – but it would be far less interesting.’
I had noticed that the weather had slowly been turning to autumn. It was getting colder – time to go home. On the Lufthansa flight from Manchester to Frankfurt, I moved my watch forward an hour – already my time was creeping homewards towards Australia. The queue to get through security was never-ending. It took well over an hour in long snaking lines. Despite good crowd management – it reminded me of triage in emergency departments – with people on earlier flights being plucked out of the queue by security and hurried forward, an older airport like Manchester struggled to cope. In Frankfurt on the way, the people in the queue had to negotiate this themselves – much less effectively. I can't help thinking that terrorists have already partially succeeded when they manage to bring international movement of people to a crawl like this.
Avoiding large crowds
Travellers overseas are advised to avoid large crowds in public spaces. Standing in the queue at the airport it did go through my mind that the huge crowd stuck on the unscanned side of the security barriers was the biggest and most captive target I'd been in while we'd been away – there were far more people in one place than on any single flight.
Crossing the border. Sometimes I think that at various times in its history Scotland had more to do with Norway (or France) than England. However English armies were never far away.
That night we slept at our luxurious and streamlined hotel at the airport at Frankfurt, before boarding our Singapore Airlines flight to Singapore for two final days of exploration. My mind was already in Asia and in the Southern hemisphere. Still, I couldn’t believe it – there we were at Frankfurt Airport, watching a documentary about small Scottish farms. It was great. I think they'd confused me with someone else, because we were in a room on the top floor of the Frankfurt Airport Hilton Hotel, with a view of the Lufthansa jets flying overhead and over the forests around the airport.
Writing on long flights
I find that when I am on long flights – or on trains – I write much more, as I'm in the air for an extended, unbroken period, with not much to do. We arrived in Singapore after a trip of twelve and a half hours. Never, ever again will I take trips like I used to, where I would get off the plane at this point and then, an hour later, get back on board for another eight and a half hours. The trip was so short I only had time to watch one average movie, some third-rate production about King Arthur, where the special effects credits lasted longer than the film – which was interminable anyway. I wouldn't have minded if the special effects had been used in a clever and interesting way, but it was the same old clichéd dribble - the worst parts of Lord of the Rings, only the names had been changed.
‘My mind was already in Asia and in the Southern hemisphere. Still, I couldn’t believe it – there we were at Frankfurt Airport, watching a documentary about small Scottish farms. I think they'd confused me with someone else, because we were in a room on the top floor of the Frankfurt Airport Hilton Hotel, with a view of the Lufthansa jets flying overhead and over the forests around the airport.’
While I'd been away, there's been a reshuffle of Secretaries of Australian Government departments, following departure from the sinking ship by two of them. I knew I would have to catch up on all the news once I got home.
I had to laugh – when I got on the plane in Frankfurt for the long haul to Singapore, I noted that the toilet was only two seats behind me. I'd been more conscious of this distance after my misadventure on the flight from Canberra to Singapore. Getting up in the darkened plane in the middle of the night, I wandered far back to the rear. Crammed into the tiny compartment I had a sudden dizzy spell – probably from low blood pressure.
Falling in the aisles
In total darkness I tried to make my way back to my seat to lie down, but I couldn't find it. I surprised one startled passenger by collapsing temporarily into an empty aisle seat beside her. Thankfully, when I stumbled onwards, she passed me my glasses, which had fallen off. In the end I gave up and had to lie down in the aisle. As you might imagine, this sparked a minor emergency and I had more cabin crew around me than I could count.
Meanwhile my fellow traveller had seen the furore from a distance and was hoping that what she thought was a poor old woman down on the floor was okay. Before I knew it, they had cleared a row of seats, I was lying across them with my legs up and I had an oxygen mask and was grasping a portable oxygen tank. All the attention was very embarrassing – apart from the brief dizzy spell, I felt fine. I spent the rest of the trip lying down breathing oxygen and it culminated in me being transported off the plane in a wheelchair. It did save me from a very long walk – in fact, it might be worth considering for future trips. Luckily the return trip was without incident.
‘This is actually a part of the trip I enjoy most – you get to sit down, people bring you food and drink and you can spend time – a lot of time – thinking about things.’
I realised on the twelve and a half hour flight back to Singapore that increasingly this is actually a part of the trip I enjoy most – you get to sit down, people bring you food and drink and you can spend time – a lot of time – thinking about things. There are no queues (apart from those for the toilet), no security checks and no luggage to haul around. There's no fear of missing your flight – because you're already on it – and no demands or expectations. You even get your own oxygen tank, if required.
The main downside, as occurred this time, is when you discover you have an empty seat in front of you, but then some opportunist jumps into it from elsewhere and reclines the seat. As a result you can't see the screen properly, so are forced to spend the flight turning the light on and off to irritate them.
We were staying in the Carlton Hotel, opposite Raffles, in a fabulous studio room, with a view over everything. We spent the first day recovering from our flight from Frankfurt, but apart from tiredness due to minimal sleep on the flight, we seemed to experience no jet lag – and it was the same when we travelled the other way. The stopovers in Singapore and Frankfurt seemed to have worked.
Just up the road from home
After a month in a climate where the temperature rarely rose above the low twenties and was often well below it – and the thought of anything above 30 degrees was enough to engender both fear and envy in the locals – the consistent 32 degrees and intense humidity here was a shock. At night, with a beer in hand, it was quite enjoyable. After a month on the other side of the world, it was somehow comforting to be just up the road from home, and almost back in our own time zone.
We have developed a good travelling system – for example, at the retail end of the travel continuum, my fellow traveller shops and I look for somewhere to sit down. It was too hot to walk even the short distance to Arab Street, so we jumped on the subway and checked out the old Malay area of Singapore, with its elaborate mosque, tiny lanes and shuttered two storey houses. It was busy and interesting, though sometimes it felt as though the world has become one unending shopping mall. After a while, my very short attention span manifests itself.
‘I was impressed by the way design has been integral to nation-building, economic development, social inclusion, urban renewal and a liveable city in Singapore – all highly relevant to Canberra. They had even designed social campaigns, at one point running a “be nice to tourists” campaign. I thought that now all they needed was a “be nice to locals” campaign for tourists.’
There are so many stereotypes about every place you can think of. In Scotland it always rains (well, maybe that one is true), Canberra is dull and sterile and Singapore is boring and sanitised. Canberrans manage to have their own version by stereotyping neighbouring Queanbeyan. It reminds me that when I first moved to Sydney, I thought Newtown was funky. By the time I left, I thought it was just dirty. On the other hand, after only a brief acquaintance, I like Singapore – I don't think I'd ever describe such a culturally diverse place as boring. I did wonder, though, whether it might be a place where you have to queue to find out if you have to queue. However, the way it is a preview of the future – for both better and worse – intrigues me.
Australians used to say Singapore was boring and sterile - how can a place so culturally diverse be sterile. Perhaps they meant clean and orderly and safe.
Singapore seems to actively manage its huge diversity. Just before we arrived it banned two extremist Christian missionaries – as it had previously done with Muslim clerics – for denigrating other religions. Despite this, in one respect at least it is not yet a 21st Century city – it is definitely not gay-friendly, with many aspects to the active discrimination. Unlike every other city we have visited, we have seen no homeless or beggars – whether that just means they are kept out of the wealthy tourist areas is difficult to tell.
Design and nation-building
Wandering near our hotel, we went to the Singapore National Design Centre, where I was enthralled by an exhibition on 50 years of Singapore design. DESIGN Canberra had been forging close links with Singapore Design Week, so it had added resonance. I was impressed by the way design has been integral to nation-building, economic development, social inclusion, urban renewal and a liveable city in Singapore – all highly relevant to Canberra. They had even designed social campaigns, at one point running a ‘be nice to tourists’ campaign. I thought that now all they needed was a ‘be nice to locals’ campaign for tourists.
Very old and very new co-exist in tightly-packed Singapore.
In the early evening we caught a taxi to the Gardens by the Bay. Our young taxi driver commented that there was a high proportion of expatriates living in Singapore and it has become too expensive for many locals – just like London and Sydney, I thought. He mentioned the many Chinese who come to Singapore to study, whose wealthy parents enable them to spend up big on the high-end international fashion we saw in the malls.
‘Our young taxi driver commented that there was a high proportion of expatriates living in Singapore and it has become too expensive for many locals – just like London and Sydney, I thought. He mentioned the many Chinese who come to Singapore to study, whose wealthy parents enable them to spend up big on the high-end international fashion we saw in the malls.’
The Gardens were striking and obviously much loved and used by locals. I found them a bit too contrived, like a garden mall, though I realise that by their nature, gardens are contrived. It reminded me of of a much bigger and better version of Darling Harbour in Sydney, which had opened just after I moved to Sydney. If you had young children, you'd be right at home there. Still, I thought next time I might try to see the UNESCO World Heritage listed Botanic Gardens, which I thought I'd prefer – and rightly so, because in 2019 I thoroughly enjoyed them.
Bars and restaurants clustered around the river
We caught another taxi to Clarke Quay, one of the centres of bars and restaurants, clustered around the river. We might have been in Singapore but I was convinced we had never left Scotland – that night at Clarke Quay we walked past a Scottish pub called the Highlander. There was even a man with a kilt there. Thirty years before I would have loved it, but it was too intense and too noisy, so we found a relatively quiet spot by the river, where we could watch the tiny cruise boats, had a drink and wandered on.
Ironically, in search of a final quiet drink, we ended the night sitting outside a Luke Mangan restaurant opposite our hotel, drinking whisky sours and Australian wine and talking about our travel plans. It was fun, but in Singapore, a night out quickly adds up the dollars. There was excellent fruit juice of all kinds and plenty of beer, though not a big range. Wine was expensive and prices could be deceptive because they often didn't include the ten per cent service charge and seven percent sales tax that was added on top of the quoted price.
‘On the trip I'd often been struck by how much of a commitment maintenance must be, when a place has so many heritage buildings. As if to underline this, in Glasgow the Glasgow School of Art and the Willow Tearooms, both designed by Rennie Mackintosh, and in Singapore, Raffles Hotel, were all closed or partially closed for renovation.’
From our hotel we could see the refurbishing of the tiles on the roof of Raffles Hotel and the other hotel inhabitants gambolling in the emerald pools below. Another fortuitous thing about the hotel that helped ease our travel was that when we checked in after landing at 6.25 am, they miraculously had a room already available. We checked out at noon the next day, then filled in time until our flight to Canberra at 11 pm. The trip was a scoping study, a reconnaissance mission for further excursions. We needed to find somewhere to hole up, like our hotel room there, from which we could undertake forays into the daily fray.
On the trip I'd often been struck by how much of a commitment maintenance must be, when a place has so many heritage buildings. As if to underline this, in Glasgow the Glasgow School of Art and the Willow Tearooms, both designed by Rennie Mackintosh, and in Singapore, Raffles Hotel, were all closed or partially closed for renovation. Walking past Raffles, with its narrow footpath next to the hoardings around the renovation, I was reminded of driving on the Kintyre Peninsula, pulling aside into the passing bays to let other traffic go past.
When we finally arrived home, we at last made use of a present from an old friend. It was a beautiful set of fluted glassware from the Museum of Modern Art in New York. In Singapore, we had bought in the duty-free store a couple of bottles of Caol Ila, a fine and less well-known single malt Scotch whisky from Islay (an island off the Kintyre Peninsula where we stayed). We poured ourselves a glass, had a quiet drink and thought of our friend.
Unexpected highlights
The highlights of the trip were many, but often not what I would have expected. They started with landscapes and ruins – the Western islands of Scotland, the artificial islands of Loch Tay and the Roman ruins of Hadrian’s Wall. They spanned cultural institutions, like the lingering reminder of the great 19th Century industrial exhibitions that is the National Museum of Scotland and the great collections of Glasgow.
They included meeting people, both new and old – our long-standing Sydney friend, who by a complete coincidence happened to be in Edinburgh when we were there and had lunch with us atop the Museum, the man in the clothing store in Manchester whose parents had moved from India to Birmingham, the family from Pakistan and their British-born daughter who had settled near where my fellow traveller’s parents lived in Rochdale and the young woman who had set up the public house serving real ale in Durham.
‘The designs of Rennie Mackintosh reminded me of the Wiener Werkstätte movement, established in Vienna by former members of the Vienna Secession in 1903. I subsequently discovered that they were directly influenced by Mackintosh.’
Particularly enjoyable were the insights, like discovering that Rochdale was the home of the modern international co-operative movement. I also remember commenting to my fellow traveller in Glasgow that the designs of Rennie Mackintosh reminded me of the Wiener Werkstätte movement, established in Vienna by former members of the Vienna Secession in 1903. I subsequently discovered that they were directly influenced by Mackintosh. Finally there were the novel experiences like watching television in Gaelic, staying in an old cottage on the Kintyre Peninsula and catching a ferry to Arran.
Minimising the rigours and complications of long-distance travel
It was also great to have worked out how to minimise the rigours and complications of long-distance travel, by flying directly out of Canberra and stopping over in Singapore on the way. We had a sleep and a bath, cooked our first meals in five weeks, sampled the duty-free Scotch and begun to think about our next trip.
We decided that the ideal shape of an overseas holiday from then on was to fly via a stopover in Singapore to a city we liked or were interested in, spend five days or so there, hire a car and drive somewhere quiet, spend four weeks there, and use it as a base for day trips around about, drive back to where we landed and fly out, again via Singapore, with a 3-5 day stopover there.
On both our last two holidays – to New Zealand in late 2016 and to Scotland and Northern England in 2017 – we drove more than we would have liked because, in both cases, they were areas we hadn’t been before, so we didn’t know which parts we would like best.
‘We decided that the ideal shape of an overseas holiday from then on was to fly via a stopover in Singapore to a city we liked or were interested in, spend five days or so there, hire a car and drive somewhere quiet, spend four weeks there, and use it as a base for day trips around about, drive back to where we landed and fly out.’
For our next time in Singapore, I already had a list of places to see – I wanted to take a cruise on the Singapore River, visit the recently opened National Gallery of Singapore, which was supposed to have an excellent collection of contemporary Asian art, and see the Museum of Asian Civilisation, the Singapore Botanic Gardens and the National Museum of Singapore.
I’d been posting a rambling account of our travels – now it was welcome to Australia. I kept saying to my fellow traveller that we wouldn’t really understand the significance of our trip until we had some time to digest it. It was ironic that one of the first things we watched on television after coming home was ‘Last Tango in Halifax’ – we had gone out of our way to visit Halifax on our return journey to Manchester through Rochdale.
Once the temperature passed 25 degrees it all got ugly
After our return, my fellow traveller was talking to the Irish woman on the coffee stall at the Farmers Market a few weeks later and commented that we had experienced some hot days. The woman responded that once the temperature passed 25 degrees, it all got ugly.
© Stephen Cassidy 2024
See also
Travelling light – Into Northern seas: UK, Norway, Denmark and Germany 2019
‘Neither I nor my fellow traveller had been on a cruise before, but suddenly we were sailing from London to Bergen, retracing the steps of the ancient Vikings. When we were in Scotland in 2017, we became entranced by the centuries of exchange and movement between Northern England and Scotland and Norway. We saw a cruise that travelled from Edinburgh to Bergen and became quite excited about the idea. Before you knew it, we were booked to sail from London to Edinburgh, then across the Norwegian Sea far above the Arctic Circle to the Northern-most tip of Norway before working out way down through the fjords and passages of the Norway coast to Bergen, the second largest city in Norway. We hadn’t even been discouraged by the fact that earlier that year another Viking cruise ship was nearly wrecked when one of its engines failed in a huge storm and passengers had to be lifted off by helicopter above raging seas’, Travelling light – Into Northern seas: UK, Norway, Denmark and Germany 2019.
Travelling light – Island on fire: Tasmania 2019
‘On an island you’re never far from the sea – that is unless the island is huge, like Australia. In tiny Tasmania, perched like an afterthought at the foot of Australia, even the mountains in the centre are not far from the ocean raging around them – just as in the distant homeland from which those who settled it came. On the main island, though, everywhere is a long way from everywhere else. Two islands, very different in size, in many ways with both similar and different histories. Both on fire. But this not just about the fires – it’s about what happened in front of the fire, the life lived in a time of warming and burning, even if it sometimes felt like a rehearsal for the end of the world’, Island on fire.
‘On an island you’re never far from the sea – that is unless the island is huge, like Australia. In tiny Tasmania, perched like an afterthought at the foot of Australia, even the mountains in the centre are not far from the ocean raging around them – just as in the distant homeland from which those who settled it came. On the main island, though, everywhere is a long way from everywhere else. Two islands, very different in size, in many ways with both similar and different histories. Both on fire. But this not just about the fires – it’s about what happened in front of the fire, the life lived in a time of warming and burning, even if it sometimes felt like a rehearsal for the end of the world’, Island on fire.
I smoke baby cigars
‘Smoking baby cigars in the dark of the backyard. Like some Cuban presidente haranguing the crowd with reminders, I proffer a list of romantic anniversaries, our May 4th movement, our July 12th uprising – our moment when everything became new’, I smoke baby cigars.
Cut back to black
‘Cut back to black, thin chill drizzle mid-winter – infinite regression on petrol’. Also called ‘Revhead heaven’, Cut back to black.
Coming back to these stones
‘Coming back to these stones – in the sandy dry reaches of the Coorong in South Australia’s South East birds flicker across the flat water like beads of run-away mercury’, Coming back to these stones.
Landscapes in a rear vision mirror
‘Heading at a moment's notice into Broken Hill, breaking several traffic laws on the Barrier Highway, in the rear vision mirror the land kept switching colours’, Landscapes in a rear vision mirror.
Stopping by Lake George
Cut back to black
‘Cut back to black, thin chill drizzle mid-winter – infinite regression on petrol’. Also called ‘Revhead heaven’, Cut back to black.
Coming back to these stones
‘Coming back to these stones – in the sandy dry reaches of the Coorong in South Australia’s South East birds flicker across the flat water like beads of run-away mercury’, Coming back to these stones.
Landscapes in a rear vision mirror
‘Heading at a moment's notice into Broken Hill, breaking several traffic laws on the Barrier Highway, in the rear vision mirror the land kept switching colours’, Landscapes in a rear vision mirror.
Stopping by Lake George
‘Lake George is a vast stretching freshwater lake, with no outlet. It is only diminished by evaporation. Many stories are told about Lake George, a still point of the turning earth, with all the quiet of the eye at the centre of a hurricane’, Stopping by Lake George.See other work from the Conversations group exhibition, Goulburn Regional Art Gallery, 2004 – a collaborative exhibition of writers and visual artists.
State of origin
Multimedia piece developed with visual artist, Deborah Faeyrglenn, State of origin looked at where we come from, where we go next and where we truly belong. In this work the writer and visual artist combined word, image and computer technology to make visual music. Words and images moved across the computer screen, with no fixed address, State of origin.
The lost art of conversation
Installation, developed with visual artist, Deborah Faeyrglenn, on words, meaning, reflection and infinite (or at least, partial) regression. Three tall thin vertical mirrors stand against the wall, covered in bursts of words. Three matching paper shadows flow out from the wall along the floor. Words on the mirrors flutter and blur into shadows, The lost art of conversation.
balloon
A fictional narrative work in the form of a website, the website as writing. About the adventures of a refugee from the big city who sets up the High Country Thought Balloon Company. A series of brief vignettes about the characters, situations and stories which intersect the path of the balloons as they soar across the skies of the Southern Tablelands and Snowy region. It is about changing perspective, balloon.
Malacoota Inlet
‘Shutdown in a flat, wet land, the line beween sea and sky where grey meets grey, where stricken yachts come in’, Malacoota Inlet.
Sitting on twigs
‘Sitting on twigs in the flat lands, in a piece of country loaded with meaning, like a tightly coiled spring’, Sitting on twigs.
An everyday life worth living – indefinite articles for a clean, clever and creative future
‘My blog “indefinite article” is irreverent writing about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. Over the last ten years I have published 166 articles about creativity and culture on the blog. This is a list of all the articles I have published there, broken down into categories, with a brief summary of each article. They range from the national cultural landscape to popular culture, from artists and arts organisations to cultural institutions, cultural policy and arts funding, the cultural economy and creative industries, First Nations culture, cultural diversity, cities and regions, Australia society, government, Canberra and international issues – the whole range of contemporary Australian creativity and culture’, An everyday life worth living – indefinite articles for a clean, clever and creative future.
‘My blog “indefinite article” is irreverent writing about contemporary Australian society, popular culture, the creative economy and the digital and online world – life in the trenches and on the beaches of the information age. Over the last ten years I have published 166 articles about creativity and culture on the blog. This is a list of all the articles I have published there, broken down into categories, with a brief summary of each article. They range from the national cultural landscape to popular culture, from artists and arts organisations to cultural institutions, cultural policy and arts funding, the cultural economy and creative industries, First Nations culture, cultural diversity, cities and regions, Australia society, government, Canberra and international issues – the whole range of contemporary Australian creativity and culture’, An everyday life worth living – indefinite articles for a clean, clever and creative future.
Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times
‘We live in troubled times – but then can anyone ever say that they lived in times that weren’t troubled? For most of my life Australia has suffered mediocre politicians and politics – with the odd brief exceptions – and it seems our current times are no different. Australia has never really managed to realise its potential. As a nation it seems to be two different countries going in opposite directions – one into the future and the other into the past. It looks as though we’ll be mired in this latest stretch of mediocrity for some time and the only consolation will be creativity, gardening and humour’, Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times.
‘We live in troubled times – but then can anyone ever say that they lived in times that weren’t troubled? For most of my life Australia has suffered mediocre politicians and politics – with the odd brief exceptions – and it seems our current times are no different. Australia has never really managed to realise its potential. As a nation it seems to be two different countries going in opposite directions – one into the future and the other into the past. It looks as though we’ll be mired in this latest stretch of mediocrity for some time and the only consolation will be creativity, gardening and humour’, Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times.
‘I’ve been a little out of touch with what’s been happening in the world of Australian creativity and culture because for all of February and early March this year I was visiting Aotearoa New Zealand, on a journey that originally started in November 2016 and was then resumed over six years later. While I was away the Labor Government announced its new National Cultural Policy and soon after I arrived back I received bad news of a loss from the tight group of friends and colleagues who had helped form my cultural world-view so many decades earlier – when we spoke the language of community, the language of culture and the language of changing the world for the better’, Absent without leave – ocean crossing in an (almost) post-pandemic world.
Industries of the future help tell stories of the past – Weta at work in the shaky isles
‘After three weeks travelling round the North Island of New Zealand, I’ve had more time to reflect on the importance of the clean and clever industries of the future and the skilled knowledge workers who make them. In the capital, Wellington, instead of the traditional industries that once often dominated a town, like the railways or meatworks or the car plant or, in Tasmania, the Hydro Electricity Commission, there was Weta. It’s clear that the industries of the future can thrive in unexpected locations. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. These skills which Weta depends on for its livelihood are also being used to tell important stories from the past’, Industries of the future help tell stories of the past – Weta at work in the shaky isles.
‘After three weeks travelling round the North Island of New Zealand, I’ve had more time to reflect on the importance of the clean and clever industries of the future and the skilled knowledge workers who make them. In the capital, Wellington, instead of the traditional industries that once often dominated a town, like the railways or meatworks or the car plant or, in Tasmania, the Hydro Electricity Commission, there was Weta. It’s clear that the industries of the future can thrive in unexpected locations. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. These skills which Weta depends on for its livelihood are also being used to tell important stories from the past’, Industries of the future help tell stories of the past – Weta at work in the shaky isles.
My nephew just got a job with Weta – the long road of the interconnected world
‘My nephew just got a job in Wellington New Zealand with Weta Digital, which makes the digital effects for Peter Jackson’s epics. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. This is part of the new knowledge economy of the future, with its core of creative industries and its links to our cultural landscape. Increasingly the industries of the future are both clever and clean. At their heart are the developing creative industries which are based on the power of creativity and are a critical part of Australia’s future – innovative, in most cases centred on small business and closely linked to the profile of Australia as a clever country, both domestically and internationally. This is transforming the political landscape of Australia, challenging old political franchises and upping the stakes in the offerings department’, My nephew just got a job with Weta – the long road of the interconnected world.
‘My nephew just got a job in Wellington New Zealand with Weta Digital, which makes the digital effects for Peter Jackson’s epics. Expertise, specialist skills and industry pockets can occur just about anywhere, as long as you have connectivity, talent and a framework of support that makes it possible. This is part of the new knowledge economy of the future, with its core of creative industries and its links to our cultural landscape. Increasingly the industries of the future are both clever and clean. At their heart are the developing creative industries which are based on the power of creativity and are a critical part of Australia’s future – innovative, in most cases centred on small business and closely linked to the profile of Australia as a clever country, both domestically and internationally. This is transforming the political landscape of Australia, challenging old political franchises and upping the stakes in the offerings department’, My nephew just got a job with Weta – the long road of the interconnected world.
‘We are all used to being astounded as we see growing evidence of how widespread contact and trade was across the breadth of the ancient European world and with worlds far beyond. The Romans and the Vikings and many after them all roamed far and wide. This is the stuff of a hundred television documentaries that show just how interconnected the ancient world was. Connection, not isolation, has always been the norm. Seaways were bridges, not barriers – a way to bring people together, not divide them. Now important archaeological work confirms just how widespread that cross-cultural, international network was across the whole of Northern Australia, long before the British arrived’, The Asian Century was underway long before the British arrived.
History all around us – the long term practical impact of cultural research
‘Cultural research has long term impacts in terms of our developing body of knowledge which stretch far into the future. Researchers are finding stories in our major cultural collections that were never envisaged by those originally assembling them – a process that will continue long into the future. The collections of our major cultural institutions are becoming increasingly accessible to the very people the collections are drawn from and reflect. In the process they are generating greater understanding about some of the major contemporary issues we face’, History all around us – the long term practical impact of cultural research.
‘You don’t have to be part of ‘Indigenous affairs’ in Australia to find yourself involved. You can’t even begin to think of being part of support for Australian arts and culture without encountering and interacting with Indigenous culture and the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities and individuals who make it and live it.’ The Magna Carta – still a work in progress.
‘I’ve travelled around much of Australia, by foot, by plane, by train and by bus, but mostly by car. As I travelled across all those kilometres and many decades, I never realised that, without ever knowing, I would be silently crossing from one country into another, while underneath the surface of the landscape flashing past, languages were changing like the colour and shape of the grasses or the trees. The parallel universe of Indigenous languages is unfortunately an unexpected world little-known to most Australians.’ The hidden universe of Australia's own languages.
Flight of the wild geese – Australia’s place in the world of global talent
‘As the global pandemic has unfolded, I have been struck by how out of touch a large number of Australians are with Australia’s place in the world. Before the pandemic many Australians had become used to travelling overseas regularly – and spending large amounts of money while there – but we seem to think that our interaction with the global world is all about discretionary leisure travel. In contrast, increasingly many Australians were travelling – and living – overseas because their jobs required it. Whether working for multinational companies that have branches in Australia or Australian companies trying to break into global markets, Australian talent often needs to be somewhere else than here to make the most of opportunities for Australia. Not only technology, but even more importantly, talent, will be crucial to the economy of the future’, Flight of the wild geese – Australia’s place in the world of global talent.
‘As the global pandemic has unfolded, I have been struck by how out of touch a large number of Australians are with Australia’s place in the world. Before the pandemic many Australians had become used to travelling overseas regularly – and spending large amounts of money while there – but we seem to think that our interaction with the global world is all about discretionary leisure travel. In contrast, increasingly many Australians were travelling – and living – overseas because their jobs required it. Whether working for multinational companies that have branches in Australia or Australian companies trying to break into global markets, Australian talent often needs to be somewhere else than here to make the most of opportunities for Australia. Not only technology, but even more importantly, talent, will be crucial to the economy of the future’, Flight of the wild geese – Australia’s place in the world of global talent.
Crossing boundaries – the unlimited landscape of creativity
‘When I was visiting Paris last year, there was one thing I wanted to do before I returned home – visit the renowned French bakery that had trained a Melbourne woman who had abandoned the high stakes of Formula One racing to become a top croissant maker. She had decided that being an engineer in the world of elite car racing was not for her, but rather that her future lay in the malleable universe of pastry. Crossing boundaries of many kinds and traversing the borders of differing countries and cultures, she built a radically different future to the one she first envisaged’, Crossing boundaries – the unlimited landscape of creativity.
‘When I was visiting Paris last year, there was one thing I wanted to do before I returned home – visit the renowned French bakery that had trained a Melbourne woman who had abandoned the high stakes of Formula One racing to become a top croissant maker. She had decided that being an engineer in the world of elite car racing was not for her, but rather that her future lay in the malleable universe of pastry. Crossing boundaries of many kinds and traversing the borders of differing countries and cultures, she built a radically different future to the one she first envisaged’, Crossing boundaries – the unlimited landscape of creativity.
Music makes the world go round – the bright promise of our export future
‘After ABBA, in an unexpected break from its traditional way of building national wealth from natural resources, Sweden managed to discover a new source of income. It was not as you would expect coal or oil. Rather than oil what it had discovered was song royalties, part of a fundamental change in the nature of modern economies which transformed them from relying solely on natural resources, transport and manufacturing to make creative content a new form of resource mining. Examples like theirs point to potentially major opportunities for the Australian music industry to become a net exporter of music,’ Music makes the world go round – the bright promise of our export future.
‘After ABBA, in an unexpected break from its traditional way of building national wealth from natural resources, Sweden managed to discover a new source of income. It was not as you would expect coal or oil. Rather than oil what it had discovered was song royalties, part of a fundamental change in the nature of modern economies which transformed them from relying solely on natural resources, transport and manufacturing to make creative content a new form of resource mining. Examples like theirs point to potentially major opportunities for the Australian music industry to become a net exporter of music,’ Music makes the world go round – the bright promise of our export future.
No comments:
Post a Comment