For all the work with time zones I’ve done in the past, it was only yesterday that I noticed that (in Western Europe, at least), the clocks are not on summer and winter time for the same amount of time. Summer time starts on the last Sunday in March, winter time starts on the last Sunday in October. Summer time is 7 months long, winter time only 5.
Edinburgh from the evening of Tuesday 18th February until Friday 21st. I was staying at the Ritz Hotel on Grosvenor Street, whose name makes it sound quite posh. This is the hotel Jim dubbed the “serial killer special” after seeing the photo of the chintzy, blood-red room I stayed in last time I was there. I watched Red 2 on the journey there, and finished reading Leonard Richardson’s Constellation Games before bedtime.
I didn’t have any other books with me, so on Wednesday evening I swung by Pulp Fiction on Bread Street and picked up The Surgeon by Tess Gerritsen and Deception by Jonathan Kellerman, two authors I’ve always passed over until now. (Having finished both of them a week later, I think The Surgeon is probably the better book, but Kellerman’s is the series I want to read more of first.) I started reading The Surgeon over an extra-hot half chicken at Nando’s, but quickly stopped because turning pages + greasy finger food = nonono. Back at the hotel I watched The World’s End. (No wifi in room; previously downloaded.) I enjoyed it, and thought Simon Pegg’s character Gary King was particlarly well-realized, but the ending was weak. Maybe I need to see it again to give it a second chance.
Thursday evening I made good on my promise not to over-eat by buying an extra sandwich at lunchtime and just saving it for dinner. Watched The Amazing Spider-Man, partly because it was on special offer on iTunes, but it actually turned out to be really good. I like Andrew Garfield as Spidey – he brings less of an angsty vibe, and more of a jaunty swagger to Spidey than Tobey Maguire did. Yes, it does feel a bit soon for a series reboot, but I can deal with it. Looking forward to the next film in April.
Friday evening I flew down to Gatwick, met up with Abi and the kids, and spent a lovely weekend with Jules & Becca. We went in to see Wicked at the Apollo Victoria in the London on Saturday afternoon, and had a fabulous time. We had figured that Fiona would love it, but Alex thought it was just about the best thing ever, too.
Abi flew back to Amsterdam on Sunday evening, but the kids and I stayed an extra night and took the train up to Edinburgh on Monday afternoon. Early in the morning, though, Jules dropped me off at the edge of Guildford on his way to work, and I took a sunny walk to the station against the flow of commuters. (I like urban walking.) At lunchtime, just before catching the train, we ate at the food court in the Friary Centre. The kids had McDonalds; Jules, Becca and I ate from Thaï Express, and when you ask for “extra spicy”, let me tell you: it is genuinely hot. And delicious.
Train travel with Fiona is always a risk because of her travel sickness, but she didn’t experience any discomfort on the way: Guildford to Waterloo, taxi from Waterloo to King’s Cross (which is so much nicer than the last time I was there, many years ago), East Coast line from the London to Edinburgh (first class! very reasonably priced when you book ahead and choose an off-peak time), and finally a tiny switchback from Edinburgh to Drem, where Dad came to pick us up from the station.
Tuesday I went in to Edinburgh to do some more work, while the kids hung around with Mum & Dad and Kyle & Rachel once they got out of school. I brought back fish and chips in the evening. Wednesday was a lazy day in Haddington, and we drove up to Murthly late afternoon. We stopped at the Sainsbury’s just before the bridge for some groceries (and sweeties). I made tuna pasta for dinner, and we watched Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs 2 in the evening. The curious thing about the film is that the trailers make no mention of the actual plot, or the real antagonist the heroes face. It concentrates on the good and funny bits, which is fair enough, but it makes me think that the actual film could have been better if it had concentrated on just those elements, too. Mum & Dad were still babysitting until late in the evening. We were all asleep by the time they got in.
Thursday we went to the Falkirk Wheel, which is a magnificent experience. Abi, Alex, and I had been there a long time ago, but Mum & Dad never had. In the winter season there are only three boat tours each day. We hadn’t thought to phone ahead and check, so we were lucky to catch the last one at 14:00. We were lifted up in sunshine and had a great view out over the surroundings.
On the way back through the tunnel and into the boat lift’s gondola, we watched a black curtain of rain slide across the landscape towards us. It hit us on the way down, battering the glass roof of the tour boat with hailstones. Fortunately the worst of it didn’t last very long.
The Wheel is now guarded by two small-scale reproductions of the Andy Scott’s Kelpies. After lunch at the nearby Rosebank Beefeater grill in Camelon, we tried to get close to the real thing. All the parking at The Helix is on the wrong side of the canal, though, and the footpaths are still under construction. (The official opening isn’t until 21st April, apparently.) It was cold, and we needed to get back, so we had to make do with a drive-by on our way up the M9. They’re a stunning sight, and I’d love to go back and see them up close.
Thursday evening I drove Mum & Dad in to Perth to see Mike & The Mechanics. After I had dropped them off, the kids and I watched Pacific Rim and ate lots of chocolate and crisps.
I had been admiring Dad’s new Troop London messenger bag earlier in the week. I had been thinking about getting a new satchel to replace my old @Media Ajax freebie from seven years ago. House of Bruar is one of Troop’s stockists in Scotland, and on Friday morning (with the kids still asleep) Dad and I took a wee drive there to have a look. We pawed around, spreading plastic packaging material all around the carefully arranged display (seriously – it’s amazing how much loose wrapping you can stuff into a single bag). After much indecision I finally settled on a “Classic Messenger Bag”, slightly bigger than my old one, but lined and padded, sturdy and stylish. Not too small that it won’t fit my laptop, iPad, a couple of books, and a sandwich or two; not too big, lest I fill it with so much crap it gets unwieldy. Just right.
In the evening we drove down to Edinburgh to watch Kyle play a junior masterclass rugby match in the half-time interval of the Edinburgh Rugby vs Ospreys RaboPro12 match at Meggetland. I had never been to a rugby match before, and I had a good time. (Edinburgh won!) It was very cold, though, and Alex definitely didn’t want to be there. Fortunately there were hot dogs, burgers, chips, hot chocolate, and donuts.
On Saturday we all met up again at Scotland’s Secret Bunker (!) in Fife. We’d seen signs for the bunker before while driving through Fife, and we were aware that it was an underground command post that, in case of a nuclear war, would have housed government and military figures. I had no idea just how astonishing the actual site is.
You enter through a fairly standard farm house (okay, so it’s surrounded by razor wire, radar emplacements, and decommissioned military vehicles, but they seem like decorative additions for the tourists). Inside, you go down a set of stairs, and then walk down through a long tunnel to a set of fairly standard institutional corridors that would not look out of place in any large office building. Only completely underground. There’s no feeling of being crammed into a tiny functional space. At first glance, it’s just completely normal.
It’s only when you step through the doors leading off the corridors that it all goes cold war on you. A tiny medical center. Dormitories and switchboards. Map rooms, radar monitoring stations, cipher suites, an emergency BBC broadcast facility, a cinema, a chapel, an armoury.
The walls are decorated with old Royal Observer Corps recruiting materials, posters warning of the dangers of nuclear fallout, instructions on how to dig latrines, and press clippings from the time when the threat of nuclear war was very, very real.
My photos can’t do the place justice. The facility was still in operation while I was at university in St Andrews, less than 10 miles away. It only shut down in 1992, when the old Soviet Union collapsed and the cold war danger dissipated. Watching the flickering black-and-white public service broadcast films shown in the bunker’s cinema brought back childhood memories of wondering which room in our house had fewest outside walls, and would make the best shelter in the case of a nuclear blast. The secret bunker is a relic from that age, a chilling reminder, beautifully preserved in place. It’s a bit out of the way, but it’s well worth the visit.
Sunday was a quiet day. Late rise, pack. Hang around reading and chatting. Kyle and Fiona had hoped to go out to The Space in North Berwick, but the timing and transport options (too many passengers, not enough drivers) didn’t work out. Scott drove us to the airport late in the afternoon, and we got our flight back to Amsterdam (along with plenty of creme eggs). Abi picked us up at the other end, and there was much rejoicing. We hadn’t had time for dinner on the way, so we stopped off at McDonald’s for drive-through, and the kids ate when we got back. I had a cheese sandwich. Then bed.