Cracking Up

Ice flows from the Loch clog the Forth

After 12 days of snow and ice, it was beginning to thaw today.  We are still without water despite 3 promises from Scottish Water to get back to us, none of which were kept.  The pavements were glazed in ice, the bins have been emptied just once in 3 weeks and the recycling boxes once in four weeks - I could blame the coalition but  that would be a bit quixotic so I'll reserve those admonishments until next year when the cuts begin to bite. 

At least the river has shed itself of ice although not before becoming choked this morning with all the broken ice flows from the loch which jammed beneath the bridge and for an hour or so and gave a good impression of the compendium of coalition policies: fractured, not yet moving and looking ugly. 

The grey skies of the last four days gave way to winter sun again and a walk up the local hills was called for and my mood was soothed by the tantalising views from Lime Craig as the afternoon wore on.

Campsies and Forth Valley mists

 

Queen Elizabeth Forest from Lime Craig

John MacPherson

I attended a funeral today of an exceptional man.  John MacPherson had spent the last fifteen years of his life as a community activist in the beautiful village of Killin.  Driving up there this morning with a former Director who had worked closely with John allowed us to reflect on his achievements. It was a perfect winter's day, quite inspirational and befitting of John. The mercury was showing -10°C and the Scottish mountains were sculpted like fine lace as the low winter sun cast shadows on the snow covered landscapes.  Loch Lubnaig had a deep pan crust of ice and the Tarmachan ridge sparkled like a row of meringues against the clear blue skies. 

There must have been two hundred mourners gathered in the Killin Parish Church. A free church minister and friend of John helped us celebrate and understand more of John's full life as a farmer, policeman, businessman and community leader.  In all these roles he provided a service which met the needs of citizens and customers first and foremost.

John had been chair of the Community Council for seven years and had been the leading player when the community took over the local care home, located at the centre of the village.  He devoted time to this ensuring that it became a haven for older citizens who could continue to commune with their friends and neighbours.  He was active on a wider front in various groupings of communities in the Stirling area where he commanded respect from activists in regeneration areas as well as other rural communities for his achievements, support for others, gentle style and huge integrity.  John never let anyone down despite chronic health problems in his later years.

I had once asked John to make a presentation to chief executives at a conference without at the time realising how ill John had been. On being told this I apologised for asking but John phoned me a couple of days later and said he would like to do something so that chief executives could be encouraged to trust communities to carry out local services. He spoke at that conference in his quiet highland voice, no false claims or drama just an honest and heart warming story of a community that worked and was prepared to take the risk of running a care home that would otherwise have closed when an independent private provider had failed to sell the business. 

He inspired us all with his warmth and altruism and none more so than the following speaker, the highly respected Professor John Bennington from Warwick University. Before starting his presentation, Professor Bennington explained that John was the epitome of what a civil society was about and proceeded to reference John throughout his address. Colleagues spoke about John afterwards with the sort of reverence denied to their normal collaborators: politicians, civil servants, consultants and business partners. In short they instinctively trusted John as someone who was not seeking to win approval, contracts or influence but to deliver progress for the wider public good. John had shown us that it is small communities not big societies and dubious political whims that really make a difference.

Falls of Dochart, Killin

Christmas Day

Inchmahome Priory Church

Standing on the cracks in the middle of the lake

Sibling affection

Looking west as the afternoon light fades

Snow on the Lake in the late afternoon



Grannie & Gregor

The day started with a visit to the neighbours to fill two water jerry cans, the temperature was -9°C and there was no sign of the frozen outside waterpipe delivering any Christmas cheer. After breakfast, Aileen, Amy, Gregor and I walked across the frozen Lake of Menteith to Inchmahome Island. After four days of brilliant clear days, there was some cloud cover but the experience of walking on the frozen lake was none the worse for it.  The odd skaters were out but the lake was bereft of similar morning adventurers. It was a memorable way to start Christmas Day.

We returned home to open presents with Grannie Ellie, who had enjoyed a lie-in. Amy went skiing in the garden, a bit of a comedown from her normal off-piste ski adventures before we went to the Lake Hotel, where we had managed to obtain a late booking for a relaxed Christmas lunch. 

This was the first time we had eaten out at Christmas and all because there was no water to prepare and cook a meal at home.  We had a table with a view of the lake, one of the best of viewpoints on any day, but even more so as the light conditions went through their full winter repertoire.  Then, as the light faded, we returned home to make various phone calls and Skype link-ups, followed by Christmas naps, more water foraging, a simple supper and, surprisingly, no alcohol. It was strange not to have Eva at home at Christmas but I suppose this is how it is as your children begin the next phase of their lives.

Lake of Menteith - the Perfect Day

View from the Lake

Three rinks already, bring on the bonspiel

Hotel and Church but really testing depth of field



Bootonsnow font

Following ice skates over the blue forgotten lake

Ice magic

It was -12°C this morning, the water was frozen in the taps but the skies were blue for the winter solstice.  In January I had what I thought was a once in a lifetime experience of walking across the only Lake in Scotland.  Until a neighbour told me that there had been curling on the Lake of Menteith yesterday and this became the only objective for today. I decided to test my new camera on images of snow and ice.

I went into the Lake Hotel and the manager told me there was 6 inches of ice measured yesterday. They had prepared 3 curling rinks and there would be another inch or so of ice today. However going out on the frozen lake was my risk alone.  There was no one else braving the walk onto the ice so I stepped out slightly nervous at first but telling myself that if it could handle twenty or so curlers yesterday I should have no problem.  My new camera diverted my attention as I set off towards the centre of the lake taking photos in all directions and then returning by sliding, scribing my name in the snow for a photo and and then walking through the frozen reeds.  It was just perfect, not a whiff of wind, perfect hooloovoo blue skies and a layer of fresh powder snow to give some grip on the ice.  I had been privileged to have the beauty and serenity of the lake to myself.  As I was nearing the shore a photographer, having observed my safe return whilst standing on the jetty, joined me on the ice.  "The Perfect Day", he said and so it was.

Fethaland

Fethaland Haaf Station

After the wintry weather of the last week, the snow had largely melted and the forecast was for good visibility with showers, northerly wind, and moderate temperatures which sounded pretty good for Shetland in December.  So Saturday was devoted to driving to North Roe at the far north of the mainland and walking to Fethaland, the peninsula that was once the home to a fishing haaf station. 

I started the walk from Isbister as the morning showers abated and headed east for the coast. A large tanker was heading out of Sullom Voe and I tried to keep pace with it. It seemed very low in the water,  I could certainly not see the plimsoll line. For the next hour, I meandered up and down over an undulating coastal path. The ground was like a giant sponge after the snows and rains of the past week.  The sea provided the soundtrack and an occasional nozzle of spray from a couple of Geos to accompany the walk until I eventually arrived at the old fishing station.

Surprisingly the skies lightened and it was moderately bright when I reached the Haaf Station and its assembly of former lodges which housed crews of up to 60 sixareens.  Fethaland is an island beyond but is joined by a rocky causeway, there were dozens of sheep grazing on the fat land (Fethaland).  The cliffs dropped away steeply to the west and, as the sun made a brief foray, the so-called yellow cliffs lived up to their name. The wind suddenly got up and I retreated gingerly from the edge of the cliffs, the footings were extremely difficult and I was being blown along on nature's skateboard.  The sun gave way to a blackened sky and all light diminished; the automatic lighthouse began flashing at me, I checked my watch it was 12:00 but it could as easily have been midnight as noon.  

It was time to return as I had reached the furthest point north.  With snow, then hail, and then rain at my back I slid back to the causeway and found a ruin to shelter in; there was no roof but it was dry because the rain was horizontal. A tomato sandwich and an apple provided some sustenance for the return over the track via the Upper Loch of Setter. I watched out for red-throated divers and was surprised when two 4x4s towing trailers full of sheep passed me.  The place was heaving with sheep already and every few metres I seemed to disturb another rabbit.  If I were a sea eagle this is where I would make home.  As I returned to the car the rain gave way to more 'between weathers'.  

Driving back I enjoyed the wintry landscapes, the primary school had its eco flag flying but already half of it had been stripped off by the strong winds.  A large trawler was moored at Colla Firth which is presumably the most northerly fishing station still operating.  Further south Ronas Hill, the highest point on Shetland, came into view and the remnants of last week's weather were all around: frozen lochs, banks of snow, and air cleaner and fresher than any deodorant.  

When I arrived back in Brae, I decided to drive out to Muckle Roe and drop in on Diane and Geoff, friends of a friend. They gave me a warm Shetland welcome and I learned more about the rich community life and enjoyed a slice of birthday cake with my new Shetland friends.  Then back via Voe and Weisdale with a stop at Alistair's house for coffee and a catch-up.  It was well dark when I left to drive back to Lerwick but still not 5pm. The lesson of days like today is to go out and make your day; all the ingredients are available on Shetland to be enriched, educated, and stimulated.  As T.S. Elliot wrote 'each venture is a new beginning, a raid on the inarticulate ..'

On the coastal path to Fethaland with a tanker leaving Sullom Voe

Geo

Fishing Station

Yellow Cliffs and Ramna Stacks

Looking south from the lighthouse

sheep galore

North Roe Primary flies its eco-flag

Trawler at Colla Firth

Ronas Hill beyond the frozen loch

Coalition Creep

It is evident that over the last few months, the coalition has been leading a charmed life, although Nick Clegg may not agree. The economy has continued to recover and as the dollar and euro come under pressure, the pound appears to be performing well.  Jobs have marginally increased and the scale of job losses in the public sector seems to be smaller than originally predicted. What is missing from this headline analysis is that it takes time for most government decisions to work their way into the system - six to twelve months is the minimum time for the spending decisions to impact on the economy.

The coalition policies were not set out until June in the budget statement and are still being brought to bear on the unsuspecting public. Public expenditure cuts will not begin to seriously bite until next April and the slowdown in the economy will only begin to take effect when the many capital projects bestowed by the last government in Alistair Darling's final Keynesian flourish are completed.  With food and fuel inflation now accelerating, disposable income falling as pay is frozen and VAT increases about to take effect there will be a belated slowdown in the economy. The goodwill that attends all new governments will have begun to tarnish and the opposition may have a more cogent story to tell than they have achieved so far whilst they have been indisposed by leadership elections and the systematic media trashing of Gordon Brown's tenure at Number 10.

The student protests this week have prompted many other groups to join the clammer of opposition to the coalition's policy of downsizing.  In twelve months we will have a better idea of what the coalition policies are achieving.  Sadly, I suspect it will mean higher unemployment, more young people out of work, a stagnant housing market, no growth and the possibility of a double-dip recession.  No doubt there will be another tranche of money for the London Olympics and further inducements for schools to opt out and when things get bad the Prime Minister will set foot on the foreign stage in search of glory. Oh, and the disarray in Europe will be blamed for the prolonged recession.

Snow Day Afternoon



Dig this, snowmen are for wimps



Snow Afternoon



Day before the snow morning, birch tree handy

 We were up before 6am to travel to Edinburgh airport, the forecast of light snow was wrong on both counts: it was dark and the snow flakes were like giant cornflakes and accumulating fast.  We spent 15 minutes clearing the drive and packing the car for an adventure.  Normally it takes about an hour to the airport but we started with 2 hours in hand.  The first 10 minutes were like a Fawlty Towers episode as the car slid and twisted itself down the drive wedged between two rows of snow shovelings. I had an urge to beat it with the nearest birch tree but eventually we coaxed it out. I dug another trench across the road to allow us to reverse out and we started the journey.  For the first time in a week there had been no gritter so we were driving on 6 or 7cm of new snow.  Once some momentum was gained it was possible to ease along at 25mph.  There was hardly any other traffic as we  headed towards the Lake of Menteith and then Thornhill. The car angled its way up some gradients in an extended trot but momentum was not lost. 

As we arrived in Thornhill a Peugeot was on the final incline but skidding on the spot looking every bit as elegant as Anne Widdicombe doing the rumba.  We halted at the foot of the hill, I got out and pushed the Peugeot up the last section and then, with the surface nicely polished, we made two or three attempts to follow but to no avail.  As if by magic two giant tractors appeared, the drivers informed us that all the roads into Stirling were neither gritted nor ploughed and that the trunk road and motorway to Edinburgh were even more dangerous and the airport was closed anyway.  I did not rise to the jibe that the Council was bloody useless.  With the aid of three farmers and a man in a 4x4 we turned the car on the spot, the snow in this instance acting as a lazy susan, and retreated home.

True enough Edinburgh airport was closed and, according to the websites Glasgow was open, so I asked for my flight to be switched. I had given up on the prospect of getting very far in a rear wheel drive car so I tried to order a taxi only to be told that the road was blocked and that Glasgow was in gridlock.  Shortly afterwards I heard that Glasgow airport had closed as well but getting any sense out of any of the travel, airline, airport or council websites today was harder than finding wikileaks.  I phoned Kaye and, in the unflappable and happy way of someone who is 7 months pregnant, she transferred me onto tomorrow's flight from Glasgow. 

It was finally a snow day with a free afternoon.  It made me realise how all our energies are focused on defeating the snow and very little ever gets done on a snow day.  So bearing this in mind I had a snooze, sorted out some papers, put another two rolls of insulation in the loft and tidied up my e mails.  The snow finally stopped and there was chance for another bit of snow clearing before the light faded at 3:30pm.  With weather and winter conditions like this it is no wonder that the buoyant economies are in places like India with warmer climes and the west, according to Gordon Brown in today's paper, is in terminal decline unless it unleashes another dose of Keynesian economics.