Elvandale, Dunhead, Midlothian, Scotland

Rain was forecasted for today but even as I start to write this at about 8 pm, it has yet to arrive. Instead it has hit more southern parts of Britain, creating flooding havoc in Cornwall and elsewhere. Meanwhile I learn via news flashes on my iPhone that hideous winter storms have been travelling northwards through New Zealand, so if it rains a little here, I have little to complain about.

We travelled by bus into the city yet again, the service quite good from the Park and Ride at the cost of a single fare at £1.60, meaning we are spending £7.40 (NZ$14.80) each day for the commute. We discussed the week’s transport cost this morning and realised that it was not too bad comparing it loading London’s Oyster cards for a few days transport, although in London that allowed for us to travel all over the network of Underground rail; it’s not really comparing apples with apples.

This morning we walked to the eastern end of the Royal Mile, all downhill which served to remind us our return would be all uphill. We paused at a church midway down the route to find a quiet spot to make a telephone call and in doing so, found ourselves beside the grave of Robert Fergusson, one of Edinburgh’s famous poets of whom we knew nothing. Reading the interpretative panels in the church precinct, we learned that his poetic career was a short span of three years before he was sent off to London’s Bedlam asylum for the insane, to die at the tender age of twenty four. His memorable work is in Scottish Gaelic so it is no wonder his work was not known to us in New Zealand. 

As we neared the bottom of the hill, we found ourselves adjacent to Scotland’s Parliament; we peered in through the railing gates to glimpse the controversial architectural building, finished only this century. It was clear that entry was not from this elevation, so we continued on down to the bottom of the road to reach our intended destination, the Palace of Holyrood, the Queen’s official Edinburgh residence.

The palace as it stands today is largely a 17^th century creation, planned for Charles II who was inspired by his cousin, Louis XIV’s Versailles. He did cleverly incorporate the surviving tower of the old palace, that left after Oliver Cromwell’s occupation, into the “new build”. Public tours of the palace have been on-going since the early part of the 1800s, however the reception rooms now used by the current royals, only since the middle of the last. The first tower, known as the James V’s tower, was the scene of the murder of Mary Queen of Scots’ secretary, Rizzio, and the bloodthirsty deed is spelled out in detail on the audio guide; it is that which has captured the imagination of the tourists for the last century and a half.

We joined a little talk from one of the guides on the subject of the Jacobites, or more specifically about Henry, the younger brother of Bonny Prince Charlie. The explanations untangled the historical web that defines the Jacobites, placed it in context of the monarchy in Britain and Europe, and of the battle of Culloden, and the romantic myths that have grown up about the Bonny Prince. Needless to say we enjoyed it immensely and were glad to find ourselves a little wiser than we were earlier in the day. 

Included in the tour price were the gardens and abbey, the latter being the original reason for the placement of the palace. Founded by King David I in 1128 as an Augustinian abbey, Holyrood was then altered and expanded over the centuries. By 1500 it was one of the largest and most impressive monasteries in Scotland. Invading armies played a major part in its destruction, and in 1768 the roof caved in, so it is really only the ruins that are to see. Out in the gardens can be seen remnants of the building foundations.

Apart from the busloads of foreign speaking tourists and the fact that this did not fall under the umbrella of Historic Scotland (and thus under our membership to English Heritage), we enjoyed our visit immensely. We left after lunching out in the gardens within view of the steep paths up into Holyrood Park and Arthur’s Seat. And still the rain had not arrived.

Emerging from the Palace, we crossed the road to the Parliament and spent some time in the display all about parliament and this one in particular. We joined a ten minute introductory talk that lasted twenty minutes and was both entertaining and interesting, encouraging us to join a full hour long tour. Alas, the spaces for today would have had us home far too late, so we booked for early tomorrow afternoon and will have to fit our plans around that scheduled time.

The afternoon was still young; we wandered slowly back up the Royal Mile, beyond our morning’s starting point, soon arriving at the High Kirk of St Giles, which would be a Cathedral if there were a Bishop in place.

St Giles was the original parish church in medieval Edinburgh, from where John Knox launched and directed the Scottish Reformation.  There was a bishop here for a couple of brief periods in the life of the church during the 17^th century. Most of the structure was erected in the 15^th century although the original Norman church was built around 1180.

It is a fine structure and the stained glass windows installed far more recently are quite wonderful. The Thistle Chapel, which in cathedrals or any church outside Edinburgh might be called the Lady’s Chapel, is apparently dedicated to the Most Noble Order of the Thistle, the highest chivalric order in Scotland but there is an entry charge here. The public are welcomed into the greater part of the church, although there is a “licence fee” to take photos, as there is in quite a few other similar institutions we have visited. Explanations are virtually non-existent and most of the above detail has since been gleaned from our tourist guide books. I was quite disappointed, however in fairness, churches are for the faithful, the congregation who frequent the places for worship, contemplation and prayer, and the general heretic population are only suffered for their tourist dollar (or pound).

Nearby we found a market place which was yet another collection of stalls selling tourist gee-gaws. We didn’t linger but walked on back to the bus stop in the Old Town to head on home.

And as I finish this, the rain has commenced. Fortunately we can stay snug inside until the morning.