How long did your house take to build?

It seems scarcely possible after so many walks within Aberdeen city limits over the past year, but earlier this month a neighbourhood stroll took us down a street we'd not explored before. 

We stopped to look more closely at the plaque on this house.

Gail says that perhaps Mr W. J. Anderson could have taught the builder working on the Torridon cottage a thing or two about timely project completion.

In our Torridon builder's defence, we recognise that the Jubilee house construction did not involve creating a new opening in an existing supporting wall made of super-sized boulders...

The good news is that the building work is now essentially complete and later in the week Gail and I are heading over to Torridon with dustpan and brush (and nearly-new vacuum cleaner kindly donated by our friend YAM-aunty). 

It's going to be a busy time at the cottage, so I am getting in training.

Hefted to Aberdeen

Have you come across the term 'hefted'? 

That's hefted as in relation, usually, to sheep in the uplands of Northern England.

My friend, writer Robert Macfarlane, described it thus in his 'word of the day' Tweet a while back: 

Or, to quote from The English Lake District World Heritage Site webpage: 

Hefted sheep have a tendency to stay together in the same group and on the same local area of fell (the heft or heaf) throughout their lives. These traits are passed down from the ewe to her lambs. The sheep are acclimatised to a particular terrain, weather conditions and diseases that prevail in the area. They are familiar with the ways to find shelter and, at gathering (bringing sheep down from the fells) times, the way to the farmstead and back to their grazing ground.

Why bring this up? I hear you ask.

Well, after nearly a year, on and off (mostly on), of being locked down in Aberdeen, I am beginning to feel 'hefted' to the local terrain.

It is true that I live with Gail in the heart of Scotland's third biggest city, I do not roam free on a Lake District fell, but the principal of being attached to one's territory, through knowing it intimately, still applies.

Within a three mile radius of our home, I doubt there is now a street, alleyway, track or footpath, a park, public garden, beach or wood, which I have not walked/trotted/bounced along, or sniffed or marked, at some point in the last few months. 

For example:

I know exactly which side of Duthie Park is most subject to chilly winds, and where the ice still lies in wait for the unwary on an otherwise frost-free day. 

I can tell at first sniff when a strange pup has marked one of the trees in our street. 

If a gale is blowing, I know better than to venture down to the seashore, as the waves can be scary and the sand gets in your eyes. 

There is a gently sloping river beach just along from the park, and this water-averse terrier has learned it is the safe place to go for a paddle on a warm day. (We don't do 'hot' here in Aberdeen.)

If the river is high, experience has taught me that the route under the Bridge of Dee archway on the northern side will not be passable.

We have 'winter paths', where the trees stripped of leaves afford fine views over the city, and 'summer paths' where wild flowers flourish and there is shade a-plenty. 

Certain trails are wonderfully muddy after rain, and if my luck is in, Gail forgets to avoid these.

I can tell you where, in the harbour area, you are at greatest danger of being splattered with seagull droppings...

I choose to stay away from those roads I know are particularly busy - my puppyhood fear of noisy lorries thundering past has abated over the years, but deep down persists. 

I could map the distribution of dog breeds throughout the city - Westies and 'Doodle' types here, Retrievers and Spaniels there, Staffies and Rottweilers elsewhere. 

Finally, I can find my way home, from each and every direction, and once inside the house, I will detect the sound of my food bowl being filled even if I'm two flights of stairs up from the kitchen...

Oh and by the way, I am much smarter than a sheep!

A quiet week in Aberdeen.

So I understand there were some ructions in Washington D.C. last week. 

Meanwhile it's been a quiet few days here in Aberdeen. 

We had an inch or two of snow ...

... which was fun for a while.

But then it melted. So we went to the beach. 

Oh and I slept quite a lot too. 

Sometimes quiet is good. 

How was your week?

Rudolph the Red Nosed Tesla

Gail and I are thinking you might like to see how the Festive Season is shaping up in our neck of the woods. 

Let's go for a wee stroll around the neighbourhood.

Aberdonians are not in general given to ostentatious display. Here, the low key but lovely tradition is to put a Christmas tree in one's bay window, so it can be admired from the street. 

 

Of course, there's always one household that doesn't quite grasp the concept of the modest and tasteful display.

And what did we find right next door to this extravaganza? Oh dear, I fear someone might be feeling rather deflated, having been outshone by the competition...

The local paper shop has made a bit of an effort. Gail says anything to distract from content of the newspapers this year is probably a good idea...

Further along the street, we see a practical illustration of the proposition that in the UK, worship of the Health Service has become the national religion.

Gail and I are both rather fond of this cheerful reindeer fellow, all poised to greet visitors to the house a few doors up from ours. He may not be aware that household mixing is banned right now.

Nearby, another reindeer, rather a pretty one, is shyly prancing behind net curtains in an upstairs window. 

And finally, we are proud to present our new close neighbour, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Tesla, surely the coming thing in environmentally friendly present delivery. 

Sadly, he appears only to have one antler.

We like bridges!

In this time of social isolation, things that connect us are particularly important, aren't they? Which is why Gail and I decided on the theme of bridges for this week's 'walk from home' excursion. 

It was lovely and sunny when we set off on Friday morning to walk across all the bridges spanning the River Dee in Aberdeen. Look, you can see the first and oldest one, the not very originally named Bridge of Dee in the distance here. 

A well proportioned and attractive bridge, I think. It's been around since medieval times, although with lots of upgrades over the years.

Unfortunately the pavement is still too narrow to allow room for pedestrians to pass with ease, and this was so even before social distancing was invented. Luckily there were few people around on Friday.

From Bridge of Dee we head downstream along the river to the King George VI Bridge. This one was completed in 1941, and has a nice wide pavement giving plenty of space for dogs, people and cyclists as well as all the road traffic.

So we cross this bridge and continue along the north side of the river. Fortunately the trees are not yet fully in leaf, so we can peek between the branches look back at the bridge's granite arches sparkling in the sunshine (almost!)

Next comes the railway bridge, although this does't really count for the purposes of today's walk, as only trains are allowed to use it. Gail wondered if we should wait to get a photo of a train crossing the bridge, but then remembered that there are scarcely any running at the moment, so she decided to press on. 

Suddenly, as we came closer to the harbour, the sun disappeared behind a wall of haar (sea fog) and the temperature dropped about 10ºC. So the next photo is a bit dark, but maybe you can make out that there are two bridges right next to each other here. In the foreground is the Wellington Suspension Bridge (1831) and behind it the Queen Elizabeth II Bridge (1984).

Oooh, one last little bit of blue sky reappears as I cross the suspension bridge. This is my favourite bridge as not only is it pretty, but motor vehicles are not allowed these days and so I can stroll at leisure down the middle of the walkway, like I own it.

The Queen Elizabeth II Bridge is not pretty, as you can see below. Frankly, I don't know what our dear Queen did to deserve having such an ugly bit of infrastructure named after her. 

She might even be a bit jealous of her forbear Queen Victoria, for whom today's final bridge is named. The Victoria Bridge was completed in 1881, in the wake of a ferry boat disaster in which 32 people drowned. It might not be spectacular, but is at least pleasingly shapely and symmetrical.

And it really is of no concern to me that Gail says it's not a comfortable bridge to cycle across, because the roadway is still surfaced with the original cobbles.

Downstream of the Victoria Bridge is the harbour. I'm feeling a bit chilly sitting here with the cool damp air drifting off the North Sea, so it's time to head home and warm up.

I hope you enjoyed our little outing today. Below is a map of the route, which was 4.2 miles long.

Politically incorrect

I am totally not going to start cracking jokes involving negative stereotypes about Aberdonians and their reputation for being, er, 'careful' with the pennies.

Apparently such comments might be considered politically incorrect, even if true.

No indeed, the topic of my blog post today is the Summer Flower and Vegetable Show in Duthie Park.

Well at least this would have been the topic if the show had been open when I went for my customary Sunday morning walk.

Can you believe  they refused to make an exception and open specially for me, despite the promise of worldwide social media coverage (and my  generous offer to water the plants.... )?

Well then,  I might just point out how several of their banners appeared to have been 'repurposed' from an earlier event at nearby Hazlehead Park.

And that's all I have to say on the subject.

Urban wildlife

So the other night, on my pre-bedtime 'comfort walk' around our Aberdeen neighbourhood, Gail and I spotted a fox, strolling down the street in front of us, bold as you like.

It was the second time we'd seen him in as many weeks.

As you know, we live in inner city area, albeit one with parks and green spaces nearby.

Can you believe that Gail criticised my reaction to this sighting, implying that what she described as my "ear splitting high pitched barking and frenzied straining at the leash" was somehow not acceptable behaviour.

Pray, what part of FOX terrier does she not understand?

photo from internet

Once again we are delighted to take part in the LLB Gang's Nature Friday blog hop.

Poodle cousins disappointed?

Oh dear, I do feel bad. I'm afraid I have failed to deliver on my promise to my poodle cousins Percy and Coco.

You see when I heard they were coming to visit Aberdeen for the first time, I told them we'd go to beach and there we would enjoy opportunities galore for daubing ourselves in the most exotic of seaside perfumes.

Well yesterday morning we searched high and low along the shoreline of the City Beach, but detected not a whiff of eviscerated seal, nor a feather of way past its sell-by date herring gull.





Even worse, after a while, Percy, who is not only HUGE but can also be ever so slightly patronising, said this to me: "Bertie lad, are you sure this really is the Aberdeen in North East Scotland, where it is supposed to always cold, wet, windy and dark at this time of year? How come the humans are enjoying morning coffee sitting outside at a café facing the North Sea? I do believe they are not even wearing their thermals. And their hands have not turned blue. Perhaps you are confused about your geography."

I did my best to reply in civil tones.

"Percy, old chap, you have been misled. It's always beach weather in Aberdeen in November..."

FFF: Davy Learns a Lesson

Today we are again delighted to be taking part in YAM-Aunty's Final Friday Fiction blog hop. Inspiration(??) comes this time from lines on P87 of 'Chocolate and Cuckoo Clocks: The Essential Alan Coren'.

Line 8: unable to apologise to her, since reconciliation was also
Line 12: Piu-Fong bowed, and began singing a song about the shortage
Line 16: time for bed; the main target of their abuse was the fact that

I, Bertie, am pleased to report that this month's story is, for once, entirely fictional (Gail has never owned a canary, nor any other caged bird). However the description of the habits of Aberdeen seagulls is most definitely grounded in reality...

Davy Learns a Lesson

Davy the Canary lived a pretty good life in a second floor tenement flat near Aberdeen harbour. His owner Fergus fed him a tasty and nutritious range of seeds and grains, and let him out of his cage on a regular basis, allowing him to fly around the high ceilinged living room and sit on a perch beside the window from where he could watch cranes loading the supply vessels bound for distant North Sea oil platforms.

Davy was grateful to have escaped the miserable fate of his forbears, who were so often and sometimes fatally employed as noxious gas detectors in coal mines. But one thing was missing in Davy's life - the companionship of some feathered friends.

The only other birds Davy saw from day to day were the herring gulls who flew past his window in great numbers and perched noisily on the warehouse roof opposite the tenement block. How he longed to be part of the gull gang.

It has to be said that those who live a somewhat solitary existence, separated from their own kind, often tend to develop unrealistic ideas about their station in life....

Well it so happened that the summer of 2018 was unusually warm and sunny in Northeast Scotland. So much so that one balmy evening Fergus threw caution to the wind and actually opened his living room window to let in some fresh sea air. How could he have forgotten that Davy was flitting around the room enjoying his daily exercise?

In the few moments it took Fergus to realise his error, Davy flew straight out and across the street to join the flock of gulls.

Fergus looked on distraught. But what could he do?

For so long, Davy had dreamed of the exciting times he might spend with Aberdeen's dominant bird population; of flying out to sea, cavorting with bottlenose dolphins and executing daring maneouvers in pursuit of - as he imagined it -  abundant shoals of fish swimming near the surface of the salty waters.

Reality strikes hard sometimes.

This gentle wee songbird strived tirelessly to ingratiate himself with his coarser new companions. He chirped his little heart out, only to be met with rude and aggressive squawks. He soon learned that these so-called 'sea' gulls had long since abandoned the, to his mind, noble pursuit of hunting for food out on the ocean wave, in favour of raiding the bins outside the local fish processing unit and stealing packets of crisps from the city's convenience stores. Before long Davy found himself craving those tasty and nutritious meals provided by Fergus.

Worse, for 'fun' the gulls would hold competitions to see who could leave the biggest splat of guano on the cars parked by the quayside, with extra points awarded if that car was a brand new Audi, BMW or Porsche. Poor Davy tried his best, but became the target of their abuse and earned "null points" after he could only manage a dropping the size of a flattened pea, deposited on the bonnet of a rusty Skoda.

Weeks passed, and the final straw came when Davy overheard the female gulls laughing among themselves at his pathetic attempts to fit in.

Meanwhile, in the increasingly forlorn hope that his much loved canary might one day return, poor Fergus had been leaving his window open every night, despite the falling temperatures as autumn approached.

Fergus was beginning to fear he might never again see his dear little feathered pal, when all of a sudden one night when it was about time for bed, a flutter of yellow landed on his shoulder. Delighted, he exclaimed, "Oh Davy, is that really you? How I have missed you!" Davy began singing a song and, unable to apologise in words, he rubbed his head fondly against Fergus's ear.

A few days later, Fergus returned home late from work, carrying a small cage. "Look Davy, I've bought you a wee canary to keep you company. His name is Humphry".


THE (HAPPY) END.


Click here to find links to the other FFF tales.

Flower Friday: Azaleas galore!

When one thinks of colour in reference to my home city Aberdeen, I'm afraid the phrase that comes most readily to mind is 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. ..

But thankfully, every May/June in our Hazlehead Park the Azalea Garden bursts into life, and us poor colour-deprived Aberdonians can for a few short weeks enjoy the sort of vibrant and glorious display which those of you in sunnier climes might take for granted.

To celebrate our friend Rosy's 'Flower Friday', it is my privilege to take you on a visit to Hazlehead.