Alison Thomas

The Call of the Running Tide

Independent (21 February 1998)
It's the sound of the sea that draws you back to the East Neuk of Fife. Even on a calm day its murmurings and whisperings are everywhere. And when the storm clouds gather, it charges in like a wild beast, hurling massive sheets of swirling spray over the high sea walls, drenching the streets of the villages, splashing the very doorsteps of the houses that huddle by the shores of the Firth of Forth.

Small wonder that the East Neuk fishermen have always been fiercely superstitious. Although modern technology has made boats safer, still the old taboos linger on. Rabbits, pigs, hares ... the very mention of their names can provoke the monster's wrath.

But the day we walked along the coastal path from Anstruther to Pittenweem, its mood was benign. The October sunshine laid a golden trail that danced and shimmered on the water, and only the occasional momentary feather of spray drifting across Anstruther's outermost pier gave any hint of its latent power.

It wasn't far to walk, but with a nine year-old in tow there were rocks to climb and shiny pebbles to gather - and anyway, why hurry?

It was several hours before we made it, up the steep cliff path, down the other side to Pittenweem harbour. We arrived just in time to watch a fishing boat carefully manoeuvre its way through the narrow entrance, a scattering of noisy gulls circling overhead as if piloting her home. Another had already slipped safely inside and the crew was preparing to land.

The East Neuk fishermen are a hardy breed, their daily battle with the biting east wind etched in the lines of their faces, echoed in the guttural tones of their speech. Once upon a time you could watch them at work in other harbours along the coast. Now only in Pittenweem do you catch a glimpse of a world that is fast disappearing ...

There's more to Edinburgh than meets the eye

Goldlife (January 1997)
For historical interest, architectural splendour, scenic contrast and sheer dramatic beauty, few cities in Europe can pack the punch of Edinburgh. Wander through the cobbled streets of its Old Town, and you pass a higgledy piggedly jumble of picturesque houses and imposing monuments ranging in style from medieval to 19th century Gothic. Cross the green expanse of Princes Street Gardens, and you enter the 18th century New Town, a world of spacious, symmetrical uniformity, with its wide straight streets, sweeping Georgian crescents and elegant squares. And it takes only a short stroll to reach the grassy slopes of the Calton Hill or the rugged wilderness of Arthur's Seat and Salisbury Crags. For the countryside comes into the very heart of the city, and even the sea is never far away.

"No situation could be more commanding for the lead city of a kingdom," wrote Robert Louis Stevenson, for the splendour of Edinburgh owes much to its situation astride a cluster of ancient extinct volcanoes in the Lothian Basin between the Pentland Hills and the Firth of Forth.

Old Town and New Town, Jekyll and Hyde - Stevenson's acute awareness of the duality of human nature had its roots in his native city. Dr. Jekyll himself was based on an eighteenth century councillor, Deacon William Brodie - pious, wealthy, respected citizen by day, gambler, thief and licentious rake by night. The tavern that bears his name today stands on the Royal Mile midway between his birthplace and the spot by St Giles Cathedral where he eventually met his fate - ironically on a gallows of his own design

To enjoy the wealth of attractions Edinburgh has to offer, some system is advisable and perhaps the Royal Mile is a good place to start. The high point - literally at 437 feet above sea level - is the Castle, in its present form the result of nearly 900 years of demolition and reconstruction. Here you can admire the Crown Jewels of Scotland or stand in the tiny St Margaret's Chapel, the oldest building in Edinburgh still in use. From the Castle Esplanade the four ancient thoroughfares of Castle Hill, Lawnmarket, High Street and Canongate straggle down the steep crest of the hill to the Palace of Holyroodhouse, crisscrossed by a honeycomb of narrow closes and wynds which offer tantalising glimpses of the sprawling city below and the Firth of Forth beyond.

Today the Old Town has been tastefully restored, but it's easy to imagine the days when these dark alleyways were foul, squalid and disease-ridden. "Gardyloo" (garde à l'eau) they used to cry from the windows, warning passersby that the contents of a chamber pot were about to land on the pavement below.

Everywhere you turn in Edinburgh, history lurks - not only in the monuments, but in the doorways, in the closes, in the well-worn steps of ancient stairways. It can be savoured too in museums and art galleries. Like the National Portrait Gallery in Queen Street, where Scotland's most famous figures are captured on canvas. Or the People's Museum in the Canongate Tolbooth, which tells the tale of ordinary folk in centuries gone by ...