Falkirk & the Goose on Newmarket

I know I said I'd talk about the Falkirk Wheel some more, but well...I lied. The Goose on Newmarket came first, so I'll talk about it first. Immediately after booking our room for the night at a local B&B, we went in search of a notebook for myself. I had left mine on the plane in Glasgow. Although we had no real luck finding a notebook, we did find the Goose on Newmarket
A very trendy pub just off the High street, it was filled with cigar smoking, beer-swilling yuppie-types and us. Marita Beth eschewed beer preferring instead to sit there and watch me drink mine while trying, almost vainly, to stay awake. I hadn't realized she was so tired, or I'd have not stopped. Live & Learn I suppose. Next time, I'll ask. But, this was pretty much how it was to be the remainder of the trip. Not that it was always Marita Beth or always tiredness, but someone always had a problem with my wanting to stop in at a pub. It got really friggin' old. Wastrel On

The Falkirk Wheel

"Falkirk Wheel? What the fuck is a Falkirk Wheel?" That's what I said to my wife as we drove along some A road (the A9?) in Scotland winding our way slowly from Paisley toward Perth. We weren't due in Perth for another 2 days, so we decided to find out just what the fuck a Falkirk Wheel is. A few wrong turns later and we saw this: What an imposing, impressive structure. It is, by it's own admission, "the world's first and only rotating boat lift." It was late in the day, so we stayed long enough to visit the gift shop and small exhibition, but decided to return the next day to actually ride the thing. More on that tomorrow. Wastrel On! (Listening To: Night Rider's Lament by Garth Brooks)

Robert Tannahill

Poet, flautist and song-writer. Born in Paisley, the son of a silk-weaver, Tannahill received a good education for the time. At the age of 12, he became an apprentice to his father. He taught himself to play the flute and began to compose songs as he worked. Inspired by Robert Burns' work Tam o' Shanter, Tannahill walked to Alloway Kirk in 1794 and spent time visiting the localities connected with the poet. An economic down-turn caused him to move to Bolton (England) in 1799, but he returned to Paisley in 1801 on hearing of the illness of his father. In the years following his fathers death in 1802 he began to publish his poetry, in some cases as words to existing tunes, particularly Irish music. Frail and shy, his poetry was often inspired by the countryside around Paisley. Despite having a deformity in his right leg, he would go for long walks in the Gleniffer Braes above the town. Poems such as "The Braes of Gleniffer" and "The Flower O' Levern Side" were about local haunts. He set up one of the first Burns' Clubs in the town in 1805. Tannahill's first and only publication, Poems and Songs (1807), proved popular, selling out within weeks. His best known songs are perhaps "The Braes o' Balquhidder", "Braes o' Gleniffer", "O are ye sleepin, Maggie", "Will ye go Lassie go" and "Jessie the Flower o' Dunblane". Prone to depression, when a second set of poems were rejected first by a Greenock publisher and then by Archibald Constable in Edinburgh, Tannahill drowned himself in the Glasgow, Paisley and Johnstone Canal. He is remembered by a statue in his home town and the Paisley Tannahill Club still meet in the house in Queen Street where he was brought up. (Portions of this text were snipped from Gazetteer for Scotland and Rampant Scotland) Wastrel On!

Medieval Cross at Paisley Abbey

This unmarked, undocumented early medieval cross stood in a secluded, poorly-lit corner of Paisley Abbey. It seems to be called the Barochan Cross & apparently once stood on a small hill near the large village of Houston about 6 miles from Paisley. Constructed sometime during the 10th century it was eventually moved to Paisley Abbey, but I can find no documentation as to when, where or why it was relocated. Being in such a poorly list corner of the abbey, it did not lend itself to quality photography. This is, sadly, the best of the batch. Wastrel On!

Paisley - The Real Reason

Gabriel's Public House; the real reason we went to Paisley. One of the few "assignments" I had was to locate Gabriel's for a co-worker. It seems that some number of years ag, she had out-drunk & out-lasted the pub owner. The patrons, suitably impressed with this feat of an American in a far more America-Tolerant society, erected a plaque in her honour on the pub wall. I was sent to scout out that plaque and take a photo of it. Sadly, the plaque is no longer there (if indeed it ever was). But, Gabriel's was a lovely pub in which to start our holiday. Wastrel On!