Daytrip to Kirkcaldy and The Links Market

When I first arrived in Kirkcaldy I was underwhelmed.

My first impression was that of a practical town, a mix of the occasional charming stone building, horrendous apartment blocks that were all the range in the 1970s but which now resemble aging Lego pieces, and a high street where you can pick up a Greggs sausage roll on your way to buy designer sunglasses.

I arrived early (part of my German heritage - can’t be helped) in order to have time to wander around before taking in the annual celebration of noise and calorific merriment that is The Links Market, the longest street fair in Europe.

The high street in Kirkcaldy goes on for miles; it’s no wonder it’s often called "The Lang Toun." But other than the library, which has such lovely grounds it looks like a miniature university campus, it wasn't until I had made my way to the seaside esplanade that I began be be charmed by Kirkcaldy.

The steps at the far end of the beach curve like an amphitheatre, except instead of actors the sea itself is the show. At the intermission the tide comes in and tries to wash away the spectators.

In the 1600s Kirkcaldy was one of Scotland’s most vibrant ports. This same stretch of sea and sand would have been alive with all matter of trade.

Now the gulls scan the lunches of passing walkers, ready to make a meal of any unguarded chip, while the sandpipers wade through the shallows, busy and skittish. The broad harbour is vacant except for one lonely dredger heading back in to anchor.

Leaving the city centre the road leads uphill towards Ravenscraig Castle, which sits with the modern world at its back and the broad palette of nature before it.

James II built Ravenscraig in a fit of protective flamboyance, keen to erect something that could weather the storms of the fiercest weaponry of the 1450s.

A small bridge crosses the dried moat, giving access to the sparse ruins of the headland, where cliffs fall away steeply on either side and a twisting set of stairs lead down to the pebbled beach below.

The castle is unmanned and access to the interior is blocked off, but the views out to the sea are remarkable.

If I were to take you to this beach right now, I would be hard pressed to get you to leave. The pebble collecting value alone is worth several hours of exploration, let alone the intriguing trails that lead off along the coast.

But if we go now this post will be far too long, so I will save it for the next time. For now we make our way back to town, the esplanade and Links Market. It really does go on for a terribly long way, and can be summed up in a barage of rhythmic repetition:

Candyfloss-hotdogs-ballgame-crazy throw you through the air ride-crying child-barking dog-laughing child-whiff of hash-haunted house-burgers…(deep breath…) Candyfloss-hotdogs-ballgame-crazy throw you through the air ride-crying child-barking dog-laughing child-whiff of hash-haunted house-burgers…

Oh, and one old guy relating the perils of sin with a handmade sign. As you do.

So it goes. See you next time for a walk along a small but stunning section of The Fife Coastal Path.

Royal Highland Show 2010

“Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners,” says the announcer, and a wave of applause sweeps through the audience that surrounds the arena. Bonzo the bull’s handler grins as he is congratulated by a member of Royal Highland and Agricultural Society.

Bonzo himself, whose team of British Limousins have taken first place in a mixed breed event, seems nonplussed. Later Bonzo will be seen napping in his pen while a huge fan endeavours to keep the champion cool.

I am sitting in my living room, still trying to decide between my favourite moments of the Royal Highland Show, which started on Thursday and finishes tomorrow. This was my first year visiting “the greatest show on earth” and despite reading about it beforehand I didn’t really know what to expect. Where I grew up every town had an autumn fair that included livestock events and baking contests, so I figured it would be like that, only bigger.

Not just bigger. It is enormous. It is so huge that despite having a map I still managed to get lost. Twice.

From fencing to fire pits, tractors to giant spare tyres, everywhere I went there were farming folks with serious expressions scrutinizing this bit of field equipment or that particular high speed drill. The smiles pasted on the salesmen’s faces revealed their hope that this would be the next big sale.

When I first arrived I headed straight towards the sheep pens, as my blogger friend Brenda had asked me to take a photo of the winning Bluefaced Leicesters. I have never seen so many different breeds of sheep in one area before, let alone so many that were beautifully groomed instead of their fleeces being flecked with mud.

For some time I was distracted by this charming fellow. Behold the incredible texture, colour and curl of his horns.

Eventually I found them, their red and blue ribbons posted above their pen. Here you are Brenda: the prize-winning Bluefaced Leicester ram. He seems shocked by his sudden rise to fame.

In the land of food, the name of the game seemed to be meat. Carved meat, meat on a roll, meat made into sausages, meat sold in packs at the food hall, demonstrations on how to best cut and cook meat.

However there was also plenty of cheese, seafood, and heaps of other goodies on offer in the main food tent, which was so busy it was a trial just to get through the place, let alone sample anything.

I did manage to buy myself a small block of Loch Arthur Creamery’s award winning Criffel cheese, which is velvety smooth and flavourful and goes perfectly with oatcakes.

But my foodie highlight of the day was far from the food hall, way on the west side of the event grounds. Traditional Arbroath smokies were being made right there, smoke pluming through the burlap that covered the fish, which were hanging on poles in stout wooden barrels.

Of course I had to have one, thus marking off one more thing on my Scottish “to do” list, as this was my very first Arbroath Smokie ever. Oh it was goood…moist and flaky and rich: the perfect outdoor event food because it is wholesome but also feels like a special treat.

No matter where I wandered, I kept being drawn back towards the arena where the cows and bulls were being shown. The size of the bulls is shocking and they are incredible to watch, their deeply muscled forms lumbering behind their handlers as they are led past the judges. Perhaps it is because I am a Taurus, but these bulls were my favourite animals of the day. And of course, no trip to a Scottish agricultural show would be complete without the iconic Hielan’ Coos.

Now it’s time for the weird photo of the day! I had the zoom lens on my camera and snapped one of the judges who happened to be carrying around toothpaste and a toothbrush in his sock. Caption ideas anyone?

I took nearly 200 photos today but I shall show you just one more. It is not the strongest photo but I think it is my favourite. The Clydsdale owners were all getting their horses ready to show, brushing their hair and adding adornments to their manes and tails, and I got this shot of a woman tending to her horse. She was tidying the hair in front of his eyes and speaking tenderly to him, while he nibbled gently on the back of her hand.

Such a simple, precious communication, which to me signifies the depth of concern the farmers take with the animals in their care.

As a participant, winning a ribbon is wonderful because it means accolades from your peers and positive advertising for your business. But a ribbon won on a single day demonstrates only a fragment of the time, effort and love that has gone into ensuring that animal’s health and wellbeing. They don’t make a ribbon big or shiny enough for that.

Want to learn more about The Royal Highland Show? Visit the Web site and become a friend for free to be added to their mailing list.

Goodbye, Fringe! I have failed you once again.

Once again the Edinburgh Fringe is drawing to a close, and once again I have missed it. Other than a couple of forays onto the Royal Mile to watch street performers plying their trade for spare change, I haven’t seen a thing. I try not to feel guilty, even about not having visited the book festival even once. Somehow, others who work in festival areas during August still manage to go out and see a few shows. I find it nearly impossible to muster the enthusiasm for a night out after 12 hours of work and another day looming the next morning.

The buzz that was in the air at the beginning of the month has lost some of its euphoria. The frayed ends of a multitude of creative spirits flap in the breeze and rub against each other with a languid friction. Everyone is tired from long days of seeking attention and long nights of gigs and partying. The pillars for posters bulge at the middle like snakes that have eaten whole goats, and even the tourists seem a little worn by the constant barrage of leaflets being thrust upon them by eager performers.

The Fringe is a young person’s game. It is an abundant number of fresh-faced actors, writers and musicians, all trying to edge their way into the spotlight, hoping they will be the next names to be plucked from obscurity and plopped upon the great stage of celebrity. They feed off each other’s artistic juices, tortured and restless and wired and filled to the brim with what they can just sense is the most awesome potential.

Remember when you were young and everything you wrote or performed held a flicker of genius? Remember that open feeling, the raw way that you took on the world and drove yourself back into it again, in all the brazen seriousness of your endeavours? Even your ear wax was an epiphany from the gods.

That’s what the Fringe is. It worships art for art’s sake, the “just do it and see what happens” experimentation of youth. Most of them won’t “make it” and will eventually take 9-5 jobs or continue living on the cusps of success, scraping by in small productions and side-line earners, waiting for that big break. But no matter what, I am certain that few will look back on their time as Fringe performers with regret. When the years have slid past and middle age is staring up at them like a nasty carpet stain, they will think of themselves as they were, so wild and perfect in their intentions. And they will smile.

Edinburgh Festivals' Cavalcade 2009

Some Edinburgh residents avoid the city centre when the annual festival season begins in August. I love the city in August. Because my work is festival based, I rarely get to attend any shows, but I always make a point of watching the Sunday cavalcade and taking a few walks along The Royal Mile to soak up the atmosphere.

Holyrood Park was stuffed with onlookers today and at times it seemed like the battle of the photographers, as professionals and amateurs alike shuffled for space in order to achieve the perfect shot.

Here are a handful of the more than 100 photos I took this afternoon. I hope they are enough to get you into the spirit of the three weeks of mayhem that lies ahead. My favourite photo is the one I have dubbed “Dr. Evil.”

Lobster Man:Dr. Evil:Massed Pipes & Drums (Edinburgh Tattoo):The most beautiful girl in the world:Highland Dancers from Australia (Edinburgh Tattoo):Random Monkey Man:Swinging Singer:Top Secret Drum Corp (Edinburgh Tattoo):Musicians, She Huo cultural troupe (Edinburgh Tattoo):All Smiles:If you were able to attend the Edinburgh Festivals, what kind of acts would you like to see? Would you show up early to hit the Jazz and Blues Festival? Make a bee-line toward the Book Festival tents in the hope of meeting your favourite author? Head to the Castle Esplanade for the Tattoo? Would you choose to see an opera at the International Festival? The Fringe (more on this next week) has everything from comedy to theatre, dance and music. If you had three free weeks to spend in Scotland’s capital during August, what would you want to experience above all?

The Edinburgh Tattoo 2009

Personal highlights include the RAF flypast, the Tongan dance with canoe paddles, creepy images of skeletons cast against the castle walls, the fine gentlemen of the Canadian choir, Swiss drum sticks on fire, and the cheesy romance of Robert Burns. The show goes on until 29 August.

The Gathering 2009

A long post to share some of the photos from yesterday's visit to The Gathering in Holyrood Park. I can't believe I was able to just leave my flat and walk to an event like this, when so many people have flown thousands of miles to attend.

Yes, it was crowded and it was almost impossible to get anywhere near the highland games area or into the acoustic music and "Taste of Scotland" tents, but I didn't really mind. A sense of gratitude pulsed through the air and people glowed with smiles when I asked to take their photos. It was one of the best afternoons out I have had in some time and I am so glad I went.













The Gathering is part of Homecoming Scotland, which is hosting events all year to celebrate Robert Burns' 250th birthday.