River Tweed – something from seaview

To Cumbrae and back through the Scottish borderlands

Last Monday we left our home near Berwick and drove over the country to the Scottish west coast, roughly on exactly the same longitude as our home in England. It has always fascinated me that we are so close, have so much in common … and yet are so different.To our delight, whilst English Berwick on the east coast was bitterly cold, Cumbrae, in Scotland on the west of the UK, was sky-blue – shorts and sandals weather! We waited for the ferry to take us from Largs to the Isle of Cumbrae.Our visit to the Isle of Cumbrae was prompted by my wish to visit West Kilbride and some very talented Scottish craftswomen there. Stephen was tasked with finding us somewhere to stay in the locality … and he came up with the College of the Holy Spirit, which adjoins the Cathedral of the Isles on Cumbrae.These establishments were designed by William Butterfield in 1851, at the request of the 6th Earl of Glasgow, George Frederick Boyle. Boyle was an enthusiast of the Oxford Movement, believing in the reinstatement of older Christian traditions. He wanted the College to train priests for the Episcopal Church – perhaps like the men enjoying the College grounds in this old print below.Alas, Boyle, an enormously generous and devout man (he was also pouring money into the building of Perth Cathedral at this time) depended too much perhaps on divine providence – Dominus Providebit (God will provide) is the Boyle family motto – and went bankrupt in 1885.Luckily the College Chapel had been consecrated as Cathedral for the Scottish Episcopal Church United Diocese of Argyll & The Isles in 1876, so the Diocese was already responsible for these buildings.

The Cathedral Spire towers over the island, even when glimpsed from the hills above.We first glimpsed it through the trees. You get an idea of Butterfield’s original concept from this drawing that appeared on the front of “Butterfield Revisited”, edited by Peter Howell and Andrew Saint, and published by the Victorian Society. The Cathedral stands proud, surrounded by manicured lawns, with a young avenue of lime trees.That’s not how it is now! The Diocese may have funded the Cathedral buildings, but there was no money to pay for garden upkeep.

By a magical transformation, those uncared gardens have become wild and more beautiful than one could imagine. Trees have grown up everywhere – the lime avenue is enormous. Underneath the trees, are masses and masses of flowering ramsons (wild garlic).The fine lawn banks host bluebells as well as the ramsons.I do so hope George Boyle is not turning in his grave as he contemplates the changed garden! He is indeed buried here – in the large flat tomb in the foreground of this picture. He must have loved this place very much. It is extraordinary to find such buildings on such a tiny island. Butterfield’s vision of this small group of buildings is harmonious and elegant. Here you have the windows of the Lady Chapel, the Cathedral and the Refectory – all varied in pattern and size, but united in stone and form. And look how very deftly Butterfield has highlighted the Cathedral window with the descending dove of the Holy Spirit above it.We stayed in the North College which had once housed the choristers. Our room was the upper left hand window, set amidst the tiles. We had the place to ourselves for the first couple of nights, and after that only another couple came and stayed at the other end of the building. It was extraordinary!The rooms are called after Christian virtues. Ours was Fortitude ……hmmm.Inside was all dark wood and heavy carving. The corridor …The fireplace in our bedroom ….. huge and cumbersome!The common room …What I didn’t like was the inside of the Cathedral. It looks OK from here …But once you go up into the Chancel, you get tile madness! I don’t care for the Victorian tones of green and brown anyhow, but, that to the side, it looks to me as though some student was told to see what variety of patterns they could come up to fill the space available. It’s truly tile pattern madness!Sometimes we joined Warden Amanda and Lay Chaplain Alastair for morning and evening prayers – quiet and peaceful, though the Scottish rite (just slightly different from the Anglican one we know) caught us out a bit …Outside the calm inner sanctuary lurked danger … In the evenings we explored Millport. I don’t think the authorities meant us to take this image away with us ….And we chuckled at this …..There are lots of boarded up properties round Millport, looking just a little bit sad and unloved … Masses of rabbits everywhere … (not an easy place to be a gardener, I guess) …Including several black ones (or was it the same one and it just got round a lot?) …After our evening walks, we went back to the College and lowered the ecclesiastical tone, sitting in the warm, evening sunshine with a bottle of wine …The road round Cumbrae is perfect for cyclists of all ages. This looks like a 1960s group setting out to enjoy a bicycle ride en famille.You can hire all sorts of cycles …We hired two quite ordinary bikes to get round the island. This was extremely brave of me since I haven’t been on a bike for well over 15 years. It was a glorious ride, and despite much moaning on my part (the seat was horribly uncomfortable), it was a wonderful experience.Picnic lunch and an opportunity to enjoy the view of the islands of Bute and Arran (grey and lowering in the far distance).I don’t think I have ever seen a war memorial as powerful as this. It is dedicated to the men and women of the British and Allied forces who have no known grave.After our bicycle tour of the island, we spent a couple of days on the mainland about West Kilbride. I got to do the workshop that I have longed to do for so long with lovely Lorna of Chookiebirdie. We spent an entire day sewing together …. Oh, just look at this sewing heaven!Lorna was teaching me to make paisley botehs like these ones of hers.And I was so thrilled with what I made that I have only just stopped carrying it round with me!Another day I finally got to visit Old Maiden Aunt’s yarn shop in West Kilbride – somewhere else I’ve longed to go to for ages! So many gorgeous colours. And we got to peak into her dye studio too. As an amateur dyer, it’s fascinating for me to see her professional systems – though perhaps the multi-coloured spatters behind the pots is the give away that Lilith herself might not call it that …I have to confess that I find yarn buying overwhelming. I may have decided that I am going to make a green scarf, and need green wool, but when I see the yarns available, all my carefully thought out plans go awry. This is what we came away with – all lovely stuff, but not a lot of green, and certainly not the grassy-greens I had in mind …At the Barony in West Kilbride we found an amazing exhibition of Radical Craft. Doesn’t this Landfill Tantrum by Pinkie MacLure just say all you really long to say about waste and rubbish and pollution?!!Who could not love Rosemary McLeish’s What I Do When I Don’t Do The Ironing ?! Dedicated I think to all those who hate this chore …But the pièces de résistance for me were these two works paying homage (as it were) to Angus McPhee. They were both made by Joanne B Kaar – the boots are copies of Angus McPhee’s orginal boots (those too fragile to be exhibited now) and she made the hats in the spirit of his work. I came upon the story of Angus McPhee from Donnie Monro’s song, Weaver of Grass. As far as I can see the pop song world is dominated by mostly saccharine love songs, so it amazes and delights me to hear such a glorious song about a mentally ill man. Perhaps it is really a love song in another guise …..

Time then to say goodbye to the little Isle of Cumbrae. The weather was changing as we headed back to Largs …On to sunny Sanquhar – another place I’ve wanted to visit for a long time because of their famous knitting designs. The little Tolbooth Museum there is a gem …Holding information about and examples of lots of historic Sanquhar knitting patterns …..We were also interested in the displays there about the local brickworks.As it happens, we have a small collection of lettered bricks. This started with us finding them on our local beach at Spittal. There is an entire history of northern English and Scottish collieries and brickworks to be revealed from those names. Luckily the lovely museum attendant at the Tolbooth Musuem knew just where to send us!And so we found ourselves quite unexpectedly rooting around the old Sanquhar brickworks.There were the sad remnants of the buildings ….And we found a brick or two …..Most poignantly, Clarks Little Ark, an animal rescue shelter at this site, have constructed a memorial wall of the old bricks for those dear ones they have lost.Time to go home now – perhaps crawl would be a better description for our heavily-brick-laden car. The weather got nastier and nastier as we travelled up through the Lowther hills …Still extraordinarily beautiful ….We had decided to travel back via the source of the River Tweed, high up in the Lowther Hills. There, masked in the mist and murk, we found this sign. From this point, a tiny stream and all the little tributaries that run into it flow eastwards to where it meets the sea on Spittal beach.This is an iconic spot to many (including us) because it is a great river. Appropriately there is a finely ornamented stone, incorporating words that speak off the Tweed: “it is one of Britain’s cleanest rivers …”Sadly, it was not a clean site. The rubbish was disgusting and a terrible reflection on lazy, casual visitors. I have an uncomfortable idea that people feel they have license to behave so because Dumfries and Galloway council have not provided a litter bin ….Oh dear, what a negative way to end a great holiday! So I won’t. As we travelled through the Borders, the sun shone through the damp leaves, and we slowed down to enjoy the wonderful countryside …. and an antique Rolls Royce … Festina Lente!

A Paxton walk

The meteorologists warned us last week of horrible cold wet windy weather to come, so we seized the opportunity to get out on Friday. Thank goodness we did. We had a truly golden day.

It was cold – look how wrapped up I am! The first time this winter that I’ve had all my winter woollies out and on.We decided to park our car on the English side of the Union Chain Bridge, walk over the bridge to Scotland, up along the Tweed to Paxton House, through the grounds and onto Paxton village where we could get lunch at the newly-refurbished Cross Inn. Then retrace our steps. Not a big walk at all – more of an amble really. The Union Chain Bridge is one of our very favourite places in the locality – (you can read my paean to this fine bridge here.)It sits across the magnificent river Tweed, and for much of its way separates the countries of England and Scotland.Somebody had put/left/forgotten a little clown vase near the centre of the bridge. An appeasement to the gods of the river?At the far side, we followed a path to the river bank just below these enormous suspension cables.Looking back up from the path at the enormous stone pillars supporting the suspension cables, you can’t help but be impressed.The walk along the river embankment was very muddy – it’s obviously a heavily-walked route. But no matter – so much to see, so much to enjoy. How clear the water is! Autumn leaves being carried along with the water. Perhaps we will meet these same leaves again when walking on our local beach at Spittal where the Tweed meets the sea?There were birds getting on with their own lives. We glimpsed a heron fishing through the trees.Our walk took us past small private and secretive doors …Then, in the distance, we caught our first glimpse of the rosy stone wall surrounding the Paxton estate …Not far to go now …Closer, the door was a magical invitation to a private world …Inside the estate, the walk was as golden as ever …There were fine trees – and a little teddy bear trail ….Looking up we were able to catch a glimpse of Paxton House through the trees. Paxton House was built in the 1760s to be a fine mansion looking out on the river Tweed – but alas, they have allowed the trees to grow so tall that there is almost no view of the Tweed from Paxton House any longer – such a pity.Before long we reached Paxton’s fish and boat houses.They run boat trips from here – something we’ve never done, but definitely plan to do one day.Now it was time to climb up from the banks of the river Tweed and through the Paxton estate …Past the children’s play area – it looked a most imaginatively designed place for children to enjoy!And a brief glimpse once more of Paxton House …Past their masonry treasures/leftovers/rejects sitting casually on the lawns …Past the apple trees so skilfully espaliered on the red brick wall of the walled garden …Over the Linn Burn … aaaah the tree colour!And on to the main Paxton entrance gates, guarded by some fine stone lions (and a modern touch: matching grey wheelie bins).Our walk to Paxton village only took twenty minutes or so further, but still more of interest to see. A stylish teal bench – in the middle of nowhere, should you need a rest. No, I don’t think it’s a bus stop.We met an engineer working outside the old telephone exchange to connect somebody up to broadband and had an engrossing conversation, though I must confess much of the technicalities of multi-coloured cables passed me by.Then we turned down a long slicket at the backs of peoples’ houses …Much more fun when you can see the fronts! These folk have got a rather nice mini- Paxton lion …And look at these fuchsia cushions outside on the teal bench! – but, oh dear, it’s going to rain!!All right for us luckily – we got to the pub, the Cross Inn, before any showers started.It’s been pleasantly refurbished and looked welcoming – and indeed was so, with tasty food, and perhaps more importantly for Stephen, tasty beer.Then we retraced out steps. I much prefer circular walks, but our return walk was so different that it didn’t matter that we were going over the same ground. The light was completely different – and spectacular – on return. No longer so gold and so friendly – more stark and much more exciting.

We approached Paxton House the proper way (as it were) on return. Back along the fine avenue of trees …Down the leafy banks to the river Tweed …At first, the Tweed glimpsed through the trees appeared with the gentleness of a John Nash painting …But then we veered downstream into the light …Mirrored perfection …Dark clouds overhead, rain threatening … but a reassuringly golden sign that we were on the way home …And some dappled green ambling …Before we had the Union Chain Bridge once more in our sights …Distinctly dark clouds hovering over the bridge now …The mighty stone supports of the suspension bridge …Back over the bridge to England …Where the bridge supports are cut into the soft local red rock. Back in England just before the rain!

Norham Tweed walk

A beautiful sunny spring day last week – and we were off for a walk. One of our favourite walks, this one is bookended by Norham’s fine church and it’s equally magnificent castle. Sometimes we start with the castle, sometimes with the church. You can see in the map below how the route runs in a circle – first along a loop in the Tweed and then inland to complete the circle.This day, we decided to start with the church.The Church of St Cuthbert at Norham is one of the churches we like best in the locality, and on this day it was looking particularly fine, garlanded with early spring blossom.Just inside the churchyard, in the damp and dark gloom of the churchyard wall, there are ramsons – wild garlic. They were everywhere on this day’s walk – a pungent smell when crushed underfoot. This church is a distinguished building historically and architecturally. It dates from 1165 (the same age as the nearby castle). Kings have met here (Edward I and John Bailliol of Scotland in 1292). 1320 saw it fortified by Robert the Bruce as he attacked Norham Castle. You can read more of its fascinating history on the church’s own website.Just look at those Norman arches – what patterns!This small face on the east end looks down on us from the past. I think that’s a grimace: Enjoy yourself – or else!The graves stand as solemn markers to those who went before. Was Grace Friar Nicholson a book-lover, I wonder, with those two open volumes above her tombstone?No doubt that this person loved dogs – what a fine way to be remembered!Time to leave the churchyard with its moving mementos, and set out on the walk proper. A narrow path leads down, through the fields, to the Tweed.Oh – the magnificent Tweed! Such a glorious river, flowing down from the Scottish Borders, and marking on its eastern course the border between Scotland and England. That’s Scotland on the far bank where the swans are sailing by.

What really strikes me as I look on this view is how deceptive were the green and blossom we had been enjoying in Norham church graveyard. It is still early in the year – the trees on the far bank are dun-coloured without their new leaves out.

Our path continues along the Tweed, well-managed by the good folk of Norham. It is a truly inviting walk.Before long we approach Ladykirk and Norham bridge, and this gentle path ends.Ladykirk and Norham bridge – as the name says – runs between the Scottish village of Ladykirk and the English parish of Norham. A fine late nineteenth century bridge. Just look at the detritus on the other side! Over the winter the country experienced heavy heavy rainfall, particularly in the west of the UK, where the River Tweed rises. As we walked along the Tweed, we were increasingly reminded of the floods, and damage, and basic mess this land had experienced thanks to the heavy rain.Here, at the foot of the steps leading up to the bridge crossing, you can see more rubbish – including plastics, bottles and other man-made undesirables. All swept down by the torrent of the Tweed.Nature is fighting back – with hosts of wild garlic and celandine flowers.This is fishing country – paradise, I would guess, if you have a deep pocket. An old fishing shiel, a little boat, grazing sheep … What better place to stop for a bun and a flask of coffee? But also note the detritus, caught in the branches of the tree. We reckoned this to be some 15 feet above the current height of the Tweed – there’s been serious flooding here.It is such a beautiful river. The stories of ancient bitter Scots and English fighting are all around, and particularly marked in the histories of Norham Castle, Ladykirk church (built at James IVth of Scotland’s command entirely of stone so that it could survive being put to the torch) and nearby Flodden field. As for the Tweed, well “Men may come, and men may go, but I go on forever.” Thank you, Tennyson. It’s deeply reassuring.Just before we turn up from the Tweed, we find these scummy eddies. One’s instinct is to assume this is man-made pollution, but Stephen (most conveniently) is reading Tristran Gooley’s How to Read Water and he informs me that it may be warm temperatures acting on natural ingredients that produce this effect. It might, of course, be the result of chemicals running of the fields. Best not to speculate.

At this point, the path moves away from the Tweed, and we enter wooded country. Part of the pleasure of this walk to me is, indeed, the variety of landscapes we pass through. There are primroses ..and celandines …and ramsons again! Just look at those banks of wild garlic on both sides of the path!It’s not long before we see our next “marker”. There, glimpsed through the trees, is one of the viaducts of the old Kelso to Tweedmouth railway line.It’s quite a job to scramble up to the top …and you have to go carefully …because trees are growing into the masonry …and the old iron railings are falling to pieces.But it is wonderful to be at the top – you can see the Tweed snaking away where we left it.There are few things to my mind as poignant as a dismantled railway line. All that effort put into the building, all the excitement of travel, all those ordinary everyday journeys! This line took holiday makers from the mills in the Border towns to our home village of Spittal on the north sea coast. You can just imagine the trains chugging along this track.Such a fine piece of engineering.

The next piece of the walk took us along the road.Roads are not favourite walking, but it’s sunny, there’s almost no traffic so we have the world to ourselves – and look at that burgeoning rape crop about to break into heady yellow flower on the field on the right!There’s another “marker” along this part of the journey and it’s this that makes the road walk worthwhile. This is Norham railway station. And it’s for sale – it went up for sale in 2013 for a cool £420,000.It was a railway museum for many years, but was closed, alas, by the time we discovered it. More of its history here.And – yes – that is a letter box in the wall, a Victoria Regina too! How amazing must it be to have your own private letter box!!Before long we leave the road and the route took us into a watery world again – over a bridge …and alongside a stream.It’s cool and dappled after the hot road walk. Once more we’re walking through banks of wild garlic.Now time for our final “marker” – our pièce de résistance, you might say. Here we turn in to Norham castle.It’s such a fine castle, with all the attributes that one associates with castles – moat, drawbridge, slit windows for arrows to pass through. And it has a fine history to boot. It was built in the 12th century by the Bishops of Durham as a defence against the Scots. Again and again it was besieged by the Scots – nine times in all – and captured four of those times. One of those times of Scottish ownership was just before the battle of Flodden. James IVth besieged the castle for several days, battering the walls with his powerful artillery.It sits in a magnificently commanding position right up on high above the River Tweed, looking straight over to Scotland.From the castle you look down on those small folk in the village.And that’s where we’re heading now for the very final leg of our journey back to Norham church. Norham village is a pleasure to walk through, looking sunny and simple in the 21st century compared to those bitter fighting times of earlier centuries. Daffodils, village green, war memorial. Village perfection (but who knows what lies below this well-behaved surface …)Back to the church …– and that heavenly blossom where we started.