New House

Welcoming Skies

Ben Ledi from the kitchen

In late February 2017, we looked at a building plot that was about to become available. It had been an ambition for a couple of years to build a house but where? We had spent almost 30 years in the family home. It had unbeatable access to walks and cycle routes in the Trossachs and direct access to Craig Mor through the back gate but the stone-built house was over a hundred years old and not easy to keep warm in winter as heating, electricity, and tradesmen maintenance costs were increasing faster than inflation. The rainfall average in the village was 75 inches a year with the road flooded two or three times a year and from late May to September the midges kept us inside in the evenings. We also needed to have a clear out of possessions that cluttered the house and garage.

The plot was on the site of a farm where a cluster of barns was to be demolished. On a cold damp day in February 2017, the attractions of the site, which was littered with rubble and farm detritus were dubious. It was only 12 minutes away from Stirling, there was a good local pub that we frequented and there were two or three families whom we knew, There were 8 plots, one already sold and under construction, We were able to buy a large plot next to a burn and with astonishing views, We would have a clear view of the Campsies over Flanders Moss to the south. Ben Lomond, Ben Ledi, Ben Vorlich and Stuc a' Chroin were all in sight to the west and north, although these views would disappear as other houses were built on the site.

We also had the opportunity to specify our own house. It took nine months to design the house, obtain detailed planning permission, negotiate a price for the construction and acquire the site. It was February 2018 before the work began. We considered pulling out on several occasions as costs were rising, many of the fixtures came from Europe and the £ was plummeting. We were unsuccessful in selling our existing property before construction started and this required us to obtain a bridging loan to pay for the construction. These are not easily available and together with architect fees, structural engineering fees, planning permissions and building warrants added to the mounting costs. The property market had stalled as a result of the Scottish Government introducing a Land and Buildings Property Tax of 10% on larger houses and the uncertainty caused by Brexit. However, we figured if we didn't make the move now, it would be too late to enjoy the benefits of a new house.

We marked out the site with the builder in early February. Within a fortnight we had run into a major problem as the slab for the foundations extended to a steep slope down to a burn that was part of the plot. The additional concrete that had to be poured to secure the foundations wiped out all of our £25k contingency. The upside was the glorious weather, by July the house was well ahead of schedule. We visited the site about twice a week throughout the construction and progress continued apace until mid-summer, when the house was 4 weeks ahead of schedule. We managed to sell the existing house a couple of weeks after securing the bridging loan, this had to be rescinded costing £5000 for the month we had held the unused loan. We moved into our daughter's flat in Glasgow for 6 months, eager to experience life in the heart of Glasgow.

The summer holidays meant that some of the tradesmen were on holiday when they were scheduled to complete their work. The kitchen fitters were late and then had to reorder parts from Germany and suddenly we had lost all early gains in the construction schedule. The biggest problem was the failure of the vendor of the serviced plot to commission the provision of water, electricity or drainage. Together these issues delayed the final completion by 4 weeks and the supply of water was a quick fix that was not resolved for another 6 months, delaying the completion certificate on the house. The access road was a muddy track from all the construction traffic. Services that should have been installed at the start of the site works were left to be fitted retrospectively, this was costly for the vendor and hugely frustrating for the residents.

We eventually moved in early December on a rain-filled day, it was a struggle to get the large removal lorry to the front door and an eight-hour job to unload the vehicle that had to make two trips from the storage depot. We managed to sort out much of the chaos by Christmas and are now into the snagging, the broadband connection has still to be provided. Meanwhile, we still have a couple of dozen boxes to unpack when our energy levels are restored and we have the inclination.

The plot on first viewing, some imagination needed here

Are we serious?

The pile of rubble is now the location of the house

Week 1 - Marking out the foundations

Week 2 - Groundworks

Week 10 - Lifting on the roof trusses

Week 11 - Open plan upstairs 

Week 13 - Timber Kit complete

Week 16 - Slating the roof

Week 18 - The Shed/Garage

Week 18 - Perfect weather for the joiners

Week 18 - South elevation, solar panels installed

Week 18 - Stonework

Week 33 -  Shipping Container for garden stuff and bikes

Week 35 - interior fittings

Week 36 - Laying the slabs

Week 37 - Flooring

Week 40 - Sparkle clean

Christmas Eve with Kit 

Christmas Eve

The Campsies from the living room

Looking west to Ben Lomond

Week 68 - Lawns greening

Campsies

Summertime 

No internet

We moved to the new house on 7 December. We had booked for the installation of a telephone and broadband package from our providers, BT, and promptly received confirmation of our new telephone number and that it would be installed on the day of the move. We have since had three messages indicating that there will be delays and tonight we have been told that Openreach will not be able to connect the cables before January 7. So I will be offline until then.

This is what happens when infrastructure providers like BT, which provided the telephone and broadband network as well as being the main phone operating company, are split up into different operating units by the government. The dire lessons from the privatisation and separation of network rail from the franchised train operators is beyond the ken of this government.

Little England or Big Britain

As we drift into the debacle of Brexit decisions and frenzy of confusion that has been the soundtrack of the past 30 months, I am struck by the contrast between the cool countenance of the EU negotiators and leaders and the panic and confusion of the UK government and its negotiators. This is echoed in the reporting by the BBC. Katya Adler, the European editor, provides concise summaries of the position of the EU that invariably turn out to be accurate. Laura Kuensberg, the political editor, resorts to rambling speculation depending on who she has just spoken to and her comments are seldom worth a hill of beans.

I was a lukewarm remain supporter at the referendum and had voted against joining in 1975 because I thought the UK should redeem the Commonwealth countries after centuries of exploitation. However, in the 1980s the EU was the salvation of many declining communities that benefited from its investment in development areas and skill training. Since then the EU has pioneered important environmental legislation and employment rights during periods when the UK government was laggardly or obstructive. Most recently its ability to stand up for taxation of the global tech and social media behemoths has been exemplary compared to the frigid and yet to be implemented promises of the UK government. There are still many aspects of EU policy and the stance of some of the leaders of the 27 other members that concern me, but then the UK government has the monopoly when it comes to regressive policies and an unctuous self-righteousness

What is becoming very clear is that both the prime minister and the leader of the opposition are intransigent dinosaurs lacking both emotional and political intelligence. They appear to have no sense of the destruction caused by their inflexibility or recognition of the economic and social havoc that is being caused by Brexit. Their unwillingness to accept that democracy operates in real time is equally a measure of their unsuitability as leaders.

It is the non-parliamentarians: the political leaders in Scotland, Wales, the Republic of Ireland and the Mayors of the Metropolitan areas who are far more attuned to the economic and social issues and far more cogent in articulating the real world truths. They speak not just for their bailiwicks but for Britain as a whole in a way that escapes May and Corbyn. Could it be that their experience of executive responsibility for public services gives them an insight that seems impossible for MPs to have in the vortex of legislative indecision that masquerades as parliament? Mrs May and far too many of her MPs behave and act as Little Englanders. When she declares that her Brexit deal will safeguard the union, she really has lost all credibility.

Imperial War Museum

Portico of Imperial War Museum

Weeping Window of Ceramic Poppies at IWM

It was Remembrance Day and after the cold morning showers had passed we headed to the Imperial War Museum with the grandchildren. We arrived just as the service was finishing. Crowds had gathered to admire the cascade of ceramic poppies that draped the north facing portico of the building. It was my first visit to the museum.

I was pleasantly surprised that the exhibits included sections showing the living conditions in Britain during the dark days of World War II. The Anderson shelter reminded me of the one in my Great Aunt Doris's back garden that I used to paint every few years to earn some pocket money. There were exhibits of terraced houses in south London that had suffered regular bombing raids. The sleeping arrangements required the upstairs bedrooms to be abandoned. It took me back to stories about my father's grandmother and his mother's sister who survived a direct hit to their house in Manchester by sheltering under the heavy kitchen table that protcted them from the falling rubble.

As well as the exhibits of fighter planes, tanks, and small boats, there were examples of vehicles used in the North African campaign. These included a Chevrolet 30cwt truck used by the Desert Rats in the battles against Rommel. My father had been driving one of these at El Alamein and had been blown up by a landmine. He lost all his teeth but returned to active service within a month to complete the war in the Greek and Italian campaigns with the Eighth Army. He spent four years from the age of 19 to 23 as a soldier on the frontline but like so many others seldom talked about it until in his sixties when he and my mother began to make trips abroad for the first time in their lives. They revisited parts of Italy and Greece where he had fought in the war. Chios became their regular holiday haunt after he made contact with some of the local Greeks who had welcomed the British Army when they landed to free the island in 1943.

There was so much more to see but time was limited. On remembrance day we were made to think of  the devastation to families of the 450,000 UK citizens who were killed in WW2. Similar numbers were lost in France and Italy. What surprised me from the exhibits was that this paled in comparison to Germany with 7 million, Poland with 6 million and well over 20 million Russians.

The most dangerous looking UK exhibit was the Spitting Image puppet of Mrs. Thatcher looking bellicose and obviously taking no prisoners. Her hawkish economic policies in the !980s had led to the collapse of traditional industries and seen unemployment rise to over 3 million or 12.5% of the workforce. The impact on families and communities is still evident in many old mining and manufacturing communities. Unlike the period after WW2 when there was a commitment to rebuilding the public realm and investing in education, housing, and health by governments of both main parties; there was no such public investment in the 1980s and many regions of the UK have still not recovered from the civil trauma caused by her pursuit of neoliberal economic policies.

As on all visits, the children demanded to explore the adjacent playground facilities. The blue skies, autumn leaves, ceramic poppies and the massive presence of 15-inch guns from dreadnought battleships provided a peaceful location for the playground equipment. It was miraculous the way that the freedom of the playpark rejuvenated tired children as they climbed the equipment commando style.  Nearby the sinister spike of the Shard dominated the skyline and cast doubt on the sanity of having a capital city that sucks the wealth and investment out of the rest of the country.

Spitfire and Harrier Jet in Main Hall

Chevrolet WB 30cwt truck used by Long Range Desert Group

Willys Jeep

Commando training

Most bellicose exhibit

New Lanark

His mission statement

It seemed an apposite time to make a visit to New Lanark, where former cotton mills powered by water from the River Clyde have been restored by a local Trust. It was a working community of 2500 people in the early nineteenth century when it was managed by Robert Owen, the son in law of David Dale who had built the community. Robert Owen created a more inclusive form of industrialisation based on the pursuit of individual happiness and collective endeavour. A local shop was provided by Robert Owen to sell good quality items at a cheaper price than shops in the nearby town of Lanark. It returned a profit that was returned to the community by way of building a nursery for infants who could walk and providing one of the first schools, which was free for all children until the age of ten. Owen also created an Institute for the Formation of Character, where music, dance, mathematics, geography and history were taught to adults, a prototype for a local college of education. This form of local shop was effectively owned by its customers and provided the template for the creation of the cooperative movement by the Rochdale pioneers.

Robert Owen was in the vanguard of social reformers and created a village that was one of the earliest examples of urban planning. This was recognised by the New Lanark Trust when it acquired and began the restoration of the site in the 1980's. The Royal Town Planning Institute was very much to the fore in bringing this to fruition and it benefited greatly from the European Union, which funded much of the work and subsequently enabled New Lanark to become a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The former Director of Planning of Lanark, Graham U'ren, set out the reasons for the siting of New Lanark in the 2018 Commemorative Lecture.

New Lanark impresses you first by its physical appearance, a fine assemblage of sandstone buildings nestling in a gorge at the foot of the falls of Clyde. The inventor of the water frame for spinning yarn, Richard Arkwright of Preston, described the site at New Lanark thus: "There is no place I have ever seen which affords better situations or more ample streams for cotton machinery.” It is estimated that the river Clyde provides the greatest volume of running water anywhere in Britain.

Its setting is within a magnificent wooded valley of native trees along the sandstone gorge. Unfortunately, the site has been somewhat blighted by an unsightly coniferous plantation above the west bank. As well as an industrial museum in one of the old mills, the other buildings have been put to good use for housing, a hotel, youth hostel, wildlife display, and separate museums in the former school, shop and Robert Owen's house. Then there are the inevitable tourism shops, cafes and the usual not very relevant clutter of promotion banners from the tourist board. On the day it was virtually devoid of visitors and we spent over 3 hours absorbing the chance to enjoy the inheritance traits of a social reformer.

It was the day that Chancellor Philip Hammond set his budget. He acknowledged the gross unfairness of many aspects of global capitalism as did the free press mainly because they had some celebrity entrepreneurs like Philip Green to blame. It occurred to us that David Dale and Robert Owen seemed more relevant than ever.  Hammond finally found the nerve to introduce some extra tax on global digital companies and to claim the end of austerity (its fake news folk), but there was no attempt to regulate the short-term vandalism by hedge funds and the financial markets that have destroyed much of British industry and the retail sector in recent years; Evans bikes being the latest casualty sold by a hedge fund to Mike Ashley who is to close half the stores. The Chancellor would have done better by firing up a DeLorean to go forward to the past and adopt some of Robert Owen's ideas, he was a man well ahead of his time.

Looking down to New Lanark

Spinning wool 

New buildings, the mill workers houses

Robert Owen's house

Houses and the nursery

Who needs bitcoins?

Housing Association houses

The counting house and Caithness Row

The water lade next to the Institute for the Formation of Character

Workers cottages

The Clyde barrage to divert water

Tinto Hill

Start of walk from Fallburn

Summit Cairn

The path from Fallburn to the north

Looking north to Lanarkshire

Looking west from the summit to the trig point

Scaut Hill from summit

South-east and the River Clyde

Monday,  29 October 2018

Tinto           711m      51mins 

Acent:        522 metres
Distance:    7 kilometres
Time:          1 hour 31 minutes

The first frost of winter also brought a cold but clear day. I have looked at Tinto Hill on dozens of occasions when passing but never attempted to climb it as I have usually been on a long journey to and from England with limited time. However, it is less than an hour away from Glasgow so we travelled down after the morning peak hour traffic. The Clyde Valley was resplendent with the fields still shimmering in the morning frost. We passed through Lanark, always a solid looking town, and the main street looked as if it had coped better than most small towns with the majority of shops still in business. It is only 7 miles further to the start of the path up Tinto from the A72 at Fallburn, where the excellent Tinto Hill Tearoom provides good homemade fare.

There were already a dozen cars in the car park and a few couples were on the lower slopes, usually accompanied by several dogs. The path was wide and set at an easy gradient on the lower slopes, it continued for almost a kilometre before veering to the right and becoming progressively steeper. By this time I had fallen into an easy rhythm and I used the walkers ahead as targets to maintain a good pace. There is then a narrower level path that skirts the side of a hill before climbing more steeply as the main path is rejoined. The visibility was good and the ground hard from the overnight frost. Nearer the summit, the path became stonier and it ramped up again but at no point does it require halts for a breather.

There is a viewing indicator mounted on the mortared cairn at the summit, the old trig point sits slightly below a fence to the west. I took a few photos before some other groups arrived and seated themselves at the cairn. Tinto is a very different hill than my usual staple in the highlands. The ground was dry, the grass short, the hills rounded, the valleys broad, the walkers less well equipped and the expedition a whole lot shorter. There were half a dozen couples on the hill who knew how to pace a walk, a young couple on a day off after working a weekend shift were shattered from the climb and a few gnarled hikers were reliving past memories. I am probably in the latter group and reflected that I had always intended to enter the annual hill race but never found the fortitude to make the 120-mile round trip for a race that would take well under an hour in those days. Well, that's my story!

Tinto is a fine viewpoint and on a really clear day would offer views to Glasgow, the Trossachs, the Border hills, England and the Ayrshire coast. Today, the views were good rather than excellent, with clouds in the east and a haze to the south, west and north. I began the descent and apart from the few icy sections of hard ground, it was an easy canter down the hill. I was back well ahead of the 2 hours that I had assumed and had to walk down the road to the tearoom to find Aileen who was reading a book and enjoying the quiet Monday morning ambience of the place. I ordered some soup at noon before we set off for New Lanark and the afternoon activity studying the roots of community munificence.