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The reform of local government in 1996, austerity and the cumulative centralisation of public services by successive Scottish Governments have emasculated Councils. Their ability to tackle local priorities, engage with their communities, tap into local knowledge, develop networks with local businesses and nurture the energy and goodwill of communities had been steadily eroded in the 25 years since the formation of the Scottish Parliament.
Approval ratings and voter turnout for councils have plummeted and trust in Councils is only slightly better than the Scottish Government, 38% against 32%, according to the Scottish Household Survey. Yet Councils are more likely to deliver appropriate progressive solutions and innovations in their localities than central government which is too remote and less qualified to manage services. Councils are essential players in tackling issues like social care, climate change, poverty, economic growth and generally improving the common weal. Our message is that councils should be seen as friends of the government, not as a miscreant form of local administration.
My colleague and I felt a bit like dinosaurs amidst the younger MSPs and civil servants who gave us time and respect as we peddled the experience and knowledge from our lived experience. We were younger than that then and, maybe, wiser than that now. If you've a couple of hours to spare you can check the video of the meeting here.
Bill and I sauntered back to Waverley station and had a coffee in the Fruitmarket cafe before his train left for the dark side of Edinburgh, Livingstone. I was free and feeling easy, there was an exhibition of Ibrahim Mahama, songs about roses in the the adjoining warehouse space. I was lured in by the massive photos of the work gangs building railways in what was the Gold Coast Colonial Railway. These were two subjects close to my heart. I had always loved the stupendous engineering of railways, the sight, sound, smell and touch of steam locomotives remain evocative memories of skipping around engine sheds and watching steam locomotives when I was growing up.
A large picture of a diesel locomotive made for the Gold Coast Railway by English Electric in Preston conjured up fond memories of my teenage years. I became friends with a Ghanaian woman who was the first black person to live on the housing estate where we lived. Her husband was a graduate engineer and he had come to the UK to work for English Electric, now British Aerospace. They had been allocated a council house in the days when companies had agreements with councils for housing key workers. She had an elegance and intelligence that were compelling but none of the other mothers in the neighbourhood would speak to her. I was chastised by neighbours for spending time talking to her, she would stop and talk to me when walking to the shops with her baby. I occasionally babysat for her and learnt not only about Ghana and her philosophy of life but also witnessed her experience of isolation as an immigrant mother to the UK in the 1960s. When I went to university she gave me the best advice of anyone, 'just be yourself and you will do well in life'.
I love the occasions when you have time and no plan. As I left the exhibition I headed up the steps of Fleshmarket Close, a magic tuntaway (a secret passage) into the innards of Old Edinburgh. I was meandering along the High Street when it occurred to me that I could go and look at some gravel bikes that I had been encouraged to buy following a recent hillwalking event and Edinburgh has lots of bike shops. Even better, I could phone my friend Neil, who's been heavily into cycling since we used to ride to school together on his Dad's tandem. There was no reply so I set off to find the bike cooperative, Neil returned my call twenty minutes later, he had been exercising on his turbo trainer. I was given the bus numbers to catch to his house in Dalry and we could go for a late lunch.
Princess Street was buzzing with visitors and when the number 4 hurtled past me I chased it to the next bus stop but by the time I had weaved my way through the luggage of the tourists and reached the door of the bus, I was a second too late. The next bus would be in 9 minutes said the electronic notice in the shelter. After 7 minutes the bus disappeared off the screen into Edinburgh's Bermuda Triangle of missing buses, the next one was allegedly 8 minutes away. A constant stream of empty trams sidled past more or less bereft of passengers. Edinburgh trams never go anywhere you want to go and unless you live in Edinburgh the bus pass doesn't work on them despite the whole of Scotland paying for this expensive white elephant. Meanwhile, all the buses are crammed because they have really useful routes and destinations.
Neil suggested we go to the Athletic Arms (the Diggers), his nearest pub for a couple of pints. It is one of those institutions that specialises in real beers, has over 500 whiskies on sale and provides the staples of a good pub - basic food, darts, a snug room, sport on TV and a happy and regular clientele. They also have a £3 ale of the day and today it was 'As You Like It', a hoppy pale ale. We talked about old friends and families, bikes and cycling, sheds and politics. Neil advised me against a gravel bike and before we went to the pub showed me his two oldish mountain bikes, which he thought were more robust than gravel bikes, he also has a couple of road bikes and a tandem in his excellent and sustainable uhut shed. Neil is not convinced about the need for disc brakes, they are just another unnecessary complication like electronic gear changers. Upgrading my mountain bike was his solution. Asking for advice on a new bike is perplexing. John told me to get an electric bike, most of the friends in his cycling group have now switched to them. My original advice was to buy a gravel bike, which would be a lot lighter and more versatile for road and touring than a road or mountain bike. Three friends and three different solutions!?
It was after 4pm and time to get back to the station for my train. I ran for a bus and made Haymarket in good time. The man who sat next to me on the train was on his phone and sounded interesting. When he finished I struck up a conversation with him, he was a manager with Forestry Enterprise and we had half an hour chatting about Scottish Forestry. We shared a love of the Caledonian Pine Forst in Glen Affric and the Torridonian Mountains. I learnt why beech and sycamore weren't planted in Scotland and why good timbers like Ash and Larch were no longer planted. Norway Spruce still dominated the market because it was whiter than Scots Pine, which was darker and mainly used in structural stud work. Almost 80% of UK timber was imported mainly from Scandinavian countries. We could not compete with France or the United States for Oak because they grew them on good quality soils, timber in Britain grew less rapidly and in poorer soils. He also explained how they acquired additional low value land to plant trees like birch and rowan to ensure that they hit their performance targets for native species. We could have kept talking all the way to Inverness.
It had been a grand day out and I received a message from a friend upon arriving home. As well as a thank you for gifting my Tubular Bells album to his grandson there was a compliment about our evidence to the Committee. "Watched your appearance in Parliament. Both you and Bill spoke compellingly. I quite take your point about the persistent centralisation of decision-making and the imposition by one tier of governance upon another."
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| In full flow |
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| Building the Gold Coast Colonial Railway |
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| Coincidence of childhood memories |
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| Fleshmarket Close |
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| Diggers with pints of As You Like It |
