The view from my window in Aberdeen

It could be any other lazy, late summer afternoon today in Aberdeen. Sunlight is attempting to squeeze its way through the clouds, seagulls are circling in droves, and ship horns are belching at the city’s bulging harbour. Right on cue, the haar has begun to roll in off the North Sea, making the crowd of the oil industry’s supply ships anchored off the coast look spectacularly ghostly.

But there’s something peculiar in the air today. The view from my window looks out on to one of Aberdeen’s relics from the not-so-distant past – a magnificent 1950s council tower block, that’s today dotted with saltires and simple one-worded banners. I kid you not, I can also hear the sound of someone playing Flower of Scotland on the bagpipes somewhere down the street. Today the atmosphere in Aberdeen, and indeed all over Scotland, is a mash of anxious-electric-hope as we all sit on the very edge of history.

I’m roughly 17,800 kilometers from my hometown of Rotorua, New Zealand. Sitting here today in the North East of Scotland, I somehow have landed myself right at the crossroads of what is one of the most important moments in this country’s already exceptional history. And thanks to my London-born father I’m one of those lucky buggers with dual-citizenship, which alongside my Scottish address gives me the right to vote in Thursday’s Independence Referendum.

New Zealand’s path to independence from the UK is, I’m rather embarrassed to admit, one of national confusion. We don’t even have an Independence Day, because no one can agree on when it actually happened. However we’re still part of the Commonwealth – which to me means that a well-to-do woman from London graces us with her presence on our coins and banknotes.

The Signing of the Treaty of Waitangi by Marcus King

Our independence came about after well over 150 years worth of baby steps, beginning with the signing of the ‘Treaty of Waitangi’ in 1840. The Treaty is a hotly contested topic at home to this day, and depending on who you speak to, it’s either the official date that we became a Crown Colony of Britain, or, when Maori chiefs gained sovereignty over the Crown. See why we’re so confused?

Over the next century, following our own war, then two world wars, our relationship with Old Blighty eroded as we slowly found our own feet in the world. We established and gained more and more degrees of self-rule, until finally, one day in 1986 the last remaining shreds of apron strings that stretched to the other side of the globe were cut. We developed our own constitution, removing the residual power of the UK to legislate.

A few weeks before I moved to Scotland almost two years ago, I watched from the other corner of the globe as Mr Cameron and Mr Salmond signed the Edinburgh Agreement. I remember thinking that Cameron seemed a little too calm in his post-signatory interview, and wondered why the prospect of the break-up of perhaps the mightiest Union in history didn’t seem to bother him. I thought perhaps the campaign for independence was too small and wasn’t perceived as a serious matter by Downing Street.

It’s now two years later, and let me tell you that this matter is so very far from small. Never mind what the people in suits have said – whichever side of the campaign ordinary folk are on, the sheer engagement and engrossment by every man, woman and child in the future of this land has been unprecedented. It’s been a truly electrifying and galvanising experience that I will cherish with all my heart for the rest of my days.

And so here I sit in my adopted home, right in the thick of it, poised and ready with poll card in hand.

I look around me at the gigantic gap between the rich and the poor in this city and wonder how the outcome on Thursday will affect the people who are visibly struggling to make ends meet. I look at the single mother and her daughter who walk past my door on the way to school each morning and wonder if my vote will affect that girl’s education prospects. And the wee old man who gives me a wave from his window every afternoon on my way home from work, how will this affect his pension scraps?

On Thursday morning I will place a tick beside the box marked Yes. Because I believe that there is a real genuine hunger in this country for something better. And I believe that the alternative is something that we will all be better off without. How incredibly fortunate we all are, that we have the right to choose.

As we say in my home – Kia kaha, Scotland. It means stay strong. If little old New Zealand can do it, then you sure as hell can too. Grab your independence by the baws and aim for the stars.

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Jane Swadel (above) features heavily in the book. Picture: Alan Richardson

Police mugshots of Dundee’s heaviest 20th century drinkers are set to go under the hammer next week. Published in 1905, the book depicts dozens of citizens who were banned from the city’s bars after flouting the era’s strict public drinking laws.

Anyone convicted under the Inebriates Act of 1898 three times in the space of 12 months faced being added to the book and having their picture and description circulated around the city’s bars.

Those pictured could then be fined up to 40 shillings if they tried to buy alcohol again – and landlords could be fined up to £20 for serving those depicted.

Each page describes one offender – with names, addresses, places of employment, a description and space for “peculiarities and marks” to be noted. It was signed by the constable in charge.

Jane Swaddel, aka Jane Williamson, a factory worker, was the oldest person listed, aged 63. It was noted that she “wants teeth in the upper jaw”. She was included after being convicted under the Licensing (Scotland) Act on 15 March 1905.

John Boyd, 46, of Commercial Street, Dundee, found himself listed after being “found in a state of intoxication and incapable of taking care of himself, and not under the care of a suitable person”. He was convicted at the Police Court in Dundee.

He was described as of “proportionate” build with “fresh” complexion. But officers noted under “peculiarities” that his left eye was “awanting”.

Dundee auction firm Curr and Dewar, which is selling the book next Tuesday, said it was being put under the hammer by a former landlord who ran a pub on the site of the current Bissell’s Bar on Dundee’s Polepark Road.

Steven Dewar, of Curr and Dewar, said: “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It’s quite fascinating really – a real snapshot of the time it comes from. It was very much a recognised thing at the time, but I suppose it’s the kind of thing you wouldn’t be allowed to do now in case it contravened someone’s privacy.

“It covers a big age range – from 16 to 63 – and surprisingly is mostly females. These are all hard-working people living at a hard time – jute mill workers and factory workers.

“We’ve only valued it at £50 to £100 but that’s just because we’ve no idea what it will be worth to someone.”

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The book, which is numbered 37 of 500 copies, is set to fetch between £500-800 in the sale. It also provides a historical observation on the literature, art, manufactures, and commerce of the Highlands and Western Isles during the middle ages, and on the influence of the sixteenth century, seventeenth, and eighteenth centuries upon their present condition.

The books authors have been the subject of much controversy in recent years, and were recently the subject of the BBC documentary Spinning a Yarn: The Dubious History of Scottish Tartan.

Costume of the Clans was published by John and Charles Allen, the sons of a naval officer, who moved to Scotland from England and changed their name to Sobieski Stuart, claiming to be descended from Bonnie Prince Charlie.

When it was first published, the book was celebrated by the gentry, but experts now insist the brothers were fantasists or early marketing geniuses, who invented many of the tartans and traditions themselves.

They also claimed to have discovered a manuscript, Vestiarium Scoticum, or wardrobe of the Scots, which could be traced back to the 1580s.

Vestiarium Scoticum was published in 1842, followed in 1845 by The Costume of the Clans.

Brian Wilton, director of the Scottish Tartans Authority, said: “The Costume of the Clans is amazing, filled with fantastic illustrations. The problem is, one does not know what is fantasy and what might be based on fact.“The Sobieskis produced beautiful tartan designs, and even allocated tartans to families, who had never had a tartan before, particularly in the Lowlands.“Of course, they were only too happy to accept everything the Sobieskis said, because it made them the equal of those in society who were connected to the Highlands.“Much of it was pure fantasy, but they were hugely influential. Following the visit to Scotland of George IV in 1822, the Sobieskis helped establish the importance of tartan.“Most of these are the tartans we have today for the clans.”Henry Baggott of Bonhams said: “This particularly impressive book had an enormous impact when it was originally published in 1845, and lavishly reproduced nearly 50 years later in 1892. It is beautifully bound and the artwork is striking.

“There could be a large market for this book, including perhaps among clan chiefs. There is also a strong market in America for this kind of thing.”

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Cabin crew sport tartan scarves in front of easyJet’s new tartan-clad plane

A distinctive orange and black tartan-clad aircraft has been unveiled to mark a new early morning flight from Inverness to London Gatwick. Budget airline EasyJet launched the tartan today entitled “Highland aircraft” on its Airbus A319 aircraft, alongside a kilt and scarf sported by cabin crew on its inaugural 6:40am service.

However the kilt is not set to become part of regular cabin crew uniforms, and will only be used for special occasions. The design is the first tartan to be officially registered by the Scottish Register of Tartans since records began six years ago.

Reaction to the tartan has been mixed, with some design experts calling the launch an appropriate way for the airline to mark its commitment to Scotland. Design expert Susanna Freedman, head of brand at design firm Emperor said: “Tartan is such an iconic textile, and employed with consideration – as part of an overall design scheme – can add real impact and authenticity.

“I hope we see a ‘less is more’ approach – or innovative execution in its use – that fits with easyJet’s brand positioning, rather than it appearing as a superficial ‘bolt on’ to current easyJet apparel.”

Richard Havers, a former British Caledonian general manager for Europe, admires easyJet’s idea but not its design. Tartan-clad cabin crew is most famously associated with now-defunct British Caledonian and its predecessor Caledonia Airways. Staff wore a range of tartans from the 1960s until its takeover by British Airways in 1988.

He said: “It’s quite a clever idea, but a bit of a dubious tartan. Making up a tartan is a cheap trick. Sir Adam Thomson [British Caledonian’s founder and chairman] would be turning in his grave.

“British Caledonian used about 30 tartans, but none were designed for the airline, that would have been against its ethos. It would have felt it was not the right thing to do.”

Mr Havers said both cabin crew and check-in staff had chosen which tartan to wear.

He added: “Most based their choice on their hair colour, with blondes picking green tartans and those with dark hair going for red ones.”

The former airline executive said tartan had been part of British Caledonian’s brand image, which was the “total antithesis” to easyJet’s. He said: “It was an era when flying was more glamorous – passengers wore jackets and ties.”

Mr Havers said it was a “pity” easyJet appeared to be using the tartan as a publicity stunt.

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Bruce is crowned for the second time in two days by Isabel MacDuff, Countess of Buchan. Colour litho by Williams, Morris Meredith (1881-1973).

With attention focused on the approaching 700th anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn, it’s worth taking a look at the events and figures instrumental in the lead-up to the momentous battle. Strangely absent from the legends surrounding Bannockburn is the role played by women, even though one largely looked-over heroine enabled Robert the Bruce’s claim to the Scottish throne on this day 708 years ago.

Like a lot of periods in Scottish history, the early 14th century was a rather tumultuous time. Fresh of the back of the the 13th century’s succession disputes, and William Wallace’s failed uprising, Scotland was then ruled as a province of England by Edward I. Bruce had become a guardian of Scotland, alongside his biggest rival for the Scottish throne, John III Comyn, Lord of Badenoch. In 1306, Bruce quarreled with Comyn and stabbed him to death at Greyfriars Kirk in Dumfries, cementing a deep hatred between the Bruce and Comyn families.

The killing of John Comyn in the Greyfriars church in Dumfries, as seen by Felix Philippoteaux, a 19th-century illustrator.

Isabel MacDuff, second cousin to Robert the Bruce, had the great misfortune of being married a few years earlier to Comyn’s cousin, John Comyn, Earl of Buchan. Some historians and authors believe she may also have been one of Bruce’s lovers. Following the murder at Greyfriars, it’s safe to say times were tough for Isabel. She took the contrary view to her husband, instead supporting the Bruce by taking the Scottish side in the Scottish Wars of Independence.

Robert’s coronation took place on either March 25 or 26 1306 in Scone, however tradition at the time stated all Kings must be crowned near the stone of destiny and/or anointed by the Kirk. Unfortunately the stone had been removed by Edward I a few years earlier, and the Kirk would have been hardly willing to crown Bruce following his actions at Greyfriars. Another tradition was sought to cement the claim, and it just so happened that the MacDuff clan held a hereditary right to crown Kings of Scotland.

Robert the Bruce and Isabel MacDuff immortalised in stone at Edinburgh Castle

Meanwhile, Isabel’s husband John was in England at this time so, on hearing the news of the impending coronation of the new king, she took her husbands horses and rode to Scone, unfortunately arriving a day late. However, because so many traditional elements of the crowning were absent from the first crowning, a second crowing with Isabel representing the MacDuff family tradition on either the 26th or 27th of March solidified Bruce’s right to the kingship of Scotland, thus effectively cutting off Isabel’s ties to her Comyn family.

Isabel stayed on with Bruce, but was betrayed and captured shortly after Bruce’s defeat at the Battle of Methven in June 1306. Edward I of England ordered her sent to Berwick-upon-Tweed with these instructions:

“Let her be closely confined in an abode of stone and iron made in the shape of a cross, and let her be hung up out of doors in the open air at Berwick, that both in life and after her death, she may be a spectacle and eternal reproach to travellers.”

She was imprisoned in this cage for four years, then moved to the Carmelite friary at Berwick. This was not necessarily a humanitarian move; it is suggested that by this stage Bruce was gaining support, his female relatives were potentially valuable hostages, and the English did not want them to die of ill-treatment. The last clear mention of her is being transferred again in 1313, one year before the Battle of Bannockburn, with her eventual fate uncertain.

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As you walk up the Royal Mile, it’s hard to miss the arched entryways that sit on either side. Signposted with odd names like ‘Fleshmarket’, ‘Lady Stair’s’ and ‘World’s End’, these closes, wynds, courts and entries play an essential role in Edinburgh’s charming infrastructure.

Situated within the (former) town walls, the exceptionally narrow streets weren’t a mistake of engineering. With the threat of English attack always at the forefront, skinny streets surrounded by tall buildings provided early city dwellers with protection and peace of mind.

Edinburgh’s medieval honeycomb of hidden alleyways also contains some of the city’s best stories, secrets and mysteries. Many of Edinburgh’s most influential characters once called these closes home – and some are believed to still lurk among the cobblestones.

Mary King’s Close

Mary King’s Close

According to local folklore, Mary King’s Close, situated in the heart of the Royal Mile near the City Chambers, is one of the most haunted places in Edinburgh. For centuries, the close – and all of its secrets – were buried below the city and forgotten. It wasn’t until April 2003 that it finally re-opened to the public.

Historians and archeologists believe the close was more than just a single narrow passageway, but actually an entrance to several more closes and multiple tenements owned by 17th-century advocate Alexander King. King named the close after his daughter Mary, who is thought to have herself grown to be a prosperous Edinburgh business woman.

Of the many gruesome stories associated with Mary King’s Close, the most disturbing is the rumour of what happened after its residents were struck with plague in 1645. Legend has it that the local council incarcerated the victims and bricked up the close, trapping everyone inside. Some say this is what earned the close its nickname as the ‘Street of Sorrows’.

Today, Mary King’s Close is home to one of the city’s most popular ghost tours, titled ‘The Real Mary Kings Close’.

Lady Stair’s Close

Makars’ Court

Whilst this close may be named after the widow of John Dalrymple, the first Earl of Stair, it’s most famous for its role in Edinburgh’s literary heritage. Lady Stair’s Close is now the site of Edinburgh’s Writers’ Museum. The Museum is dedicated to sharing the stories of Sir Walter Scott, Robert Louis Stevenson and Robert Burns – all of whom once called Edinburgh home.

Within the close sits Makars’ Court, itself another tribute to Edinburgh’s literary greats (‘Makar’ is the Scots term for ‘poet’ or ‘bard’). The Court’s flagstones are inscribed with the words of the city’s most influential authors, from medieval writers like John Barbour (c.1320-1395) and William Dunbar (c.1460- c.1520), to modern-day literary figures like Sydney Goodsir Smith (1915-1975) and ‘Prime of Miss Jean Brodie’ author Muriel Spark (1918 – 2006).

Advocate’s Close

Advocate’s Close

Dating back to 1544, this recently renovated close was named in honour of Sir James Stewart of Goodtrees. Stewart was Lord Advocate of Scotland after the Glorious Revolution, serving from 1692 to 1715.

Famous former residents of Advocate’s Close include Adam Bothwell, Bishop of Orkney and head of the Augustinian monastic community at Holyrood Abbey from 1568 to 1582, and John Scougal, an official painter to William III and Queen Mary.

Visitors to Edinburgh can stay in Scougal’s former home and painting studio, now one of VieAmhor’s apartments. The close is also the site of Edinburgh’s newest ‘hidden’ gem, the cleverly named Devil’s Advocate bar and restaurant.

White Horse Close

White Horse Close

Situated near the bottom of the Royal Mile, this often-overlooked close is perhaps the most picturesque of them all. Whilst many of the buildings within White Horse Close have been rebuilt and converted since the Middle Ages, this historic corner of Edinburgh’s Old Town hasn’t lost its charm.

During the 16th-century, White Horse Close contained the Royal Mews, and legend has it that the close is named after a famous horse that was stabled there – Mary, Queen of Scots’ beloved white palfrey. However, it’s more likely that the close gets its name from the ‘White Horse Inn’, built by Laurence Ord in the 17th-century.

It’s also thought that the close is where Jacobite officers stayed when Bonnie Prince Charlie occupied Holyrood Palace during the Jacobite Rebellion of 1735. Less than 60 years later, the close served as the birthplace of William Dick, founder of Edinburgh’s Royal Dick School of Veterinary Studies.

These are just four of more than 70 closes, courts, wynds and entries situated off the Royal Mile. Each one contains its own unique history, and for those wanting insight into medieval Edinburgh life, there’s no better place to start looking.

Image credit:
Mary King’s Close image by The Real Mary King’s Close via Wikimedia Commons
Makars’ Court image by Stefan Schäfer, Lich via Wikimedia Commons
Advocate’s Close image by Ann Harrison via Wikimedia Commons
White Horse Close image by Kim Traynor via Wikimedia Commons

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