Wednesday 13 March 2024

Democracies at a Turning Point

Canon Kenyon Wright delivering the call for devolution

2024 will be a significant year of elections, as well as the UK parliamentary elections, the United States, Russia, India and France also go to the polls. The campaigning will generate a razzamatazz of promises, as well as the trashing of opponents by tribalist politics that has been supercharged by social media. 

In the UK, the chaos of Brexit, the flawed response to the COVID pandemic, the failure to respond to scandals such as Grenfell Tower and Post Office Horizon and the sheer hypocrisy of the government's migration and asylum policies means that there is little to be cheerful about. The perpetual damage of long austerity and the rowing back on climate change policies have created a sense of despair among large sections of the electorate. Like other self-appointed big-ticket democracies, the UK no longer provides the gold standard it would like to claim.  

2024 also marks 25 years of the Scottish Parliament but the next election for the Scottish Parliament is two years away. Freed from the alternative truths peddled during elections, Scotland has the opportunity to be more reflective and inclusive about how it should reset the governance of Scotland and create a more inclusive constitution that restores some trust in its democratic processes. It is time to acknowledge that Holyrood is not the only player in the democratic governance of Scotland.

The Scottish Government has delivered some significant improvements for the people of Scotland, for example, the creation of National Parks, the Outdoor Access Code, the banning of tobacco in public places, free prescription charges, and free travel for young people. But devolution's undeniable, negative feature has been a weakening of local democracy through the centralisation of power, functions and services. Despite a significant tranche of devolved powers from Westminster, not all of which have been exploited, there has been more enthusiasm by Holyrood for drawing up powers and funding streams from councils. This in turn has impacted the funding and further devolution of powers to local communities.

Is this what devolution was to be all about – creating an excessively centralised state? The Scottish Government has 111 quangos (quasi-autonomous non-governmental bodies). They are non-democratic bodies responsible for many public services, inspection agencies and advisory bodies. In recent years as the Scottish Government has reduced the share of public services that were locally accountable to democratically elected councils from 42% of the Scottish GDP to 29%, the ability to set local priorities and coordinate local services effectively has been vastly diminished.

It is time for Scotland to wake up from its drive to be the least democratic nation in Europe and to reset how it is governed. There is little evidence that the Scottish Parliament can be trusted with this task. It will require the collective will of civic society to reboot our democratic institutions in the way that the Scottish Constitutional Convention achieved in the 1990s. This led to the creation of a Scottish Parliament that, over the past 25 years, has grown too big for its boots. Simply suggesting the devolution of more functions and powers to be transferred from Westminster to Holyrood is the mantra of a failing state. Whilst in England there are several initiatives and dialogues taking place to devolve more powers to the regions and councils and this seems likely to take place after the next general election, there has been no such inclination in Scotland.

It is time to utilise the tools of conviviality to redesign the governance of Scotland to engage the wider knowledge and experience of Scottish citizens. Their vision and ambitions are the tools to enrich the social, economic and environmental fabric of Scotland. To create a written constitution that embraces an inclusive network of democratic bodies at the national, local and community levels should be the goal. Unfortunately, there has been little debate in Scotland on the next stage of creating a modern, inclusive, devolved governance within Scotland.

Saturday 2 March 2024

Desolation Democracy

Dundee Clown

Rishi is blaming the extreme mobs

They're ignoring the Brexit debacle

Covid was not their making

They paid their friends instead

The house speaker

They've got him in a trance

Democracy is in meltdown

Westminster is full of clowns

Boris is sowing seeds of his prowess

Liz just left a mess

Lord Dave has been resurrected

St Theresa is stepping down

John Major has disowned them

Austerity was George's great salvation

Never a greater lie

The banker's crash was Gordon's dream

Vince called him Mr Bean

Democracy is in Meltdown 

Westminster is full of clowns

George Galloway will fit in fine

He's going to the carnival

On Desolation Row


Thursday 29 February 2024

Sale Fell, Ling Fell and Binsey

Bassenthwaite from Binsey

Wednesday, 28 February 2024

Sale Fell           359m     21mins    39mins
Ling Fell           373m    24mins    43mins
Binsey.              447m.   20mins    36mins

After yesterday's wind and rain and a similar forecast for late morning today, we decided to minimise getting soaked again and climb a couple smaller Wainwrights on the way back to Scotland. We left the Keswick Hostel at 9:00am, Keith had unusually decided to give the hills a miss, he was feeling quite unwell and discovered after a weekend with his walking club that there was a COVID alert. John and I headed to Sale Fell and Ling Fell which are located behind the Pheasant Inn at the head of Bassenthwaite. It was a place we visited for Saturday lunch over many years at the start of our Langdale week when the children were young and a Lakeland pub lunch was a treat for us all. 

We parked at Brumston Bridge and climbed Sale Fell first, the clouds were scudding in over Skiddaw and the Northern Fells at a rapid pace but we figured we would be safe from rain for a quick up and down. The strong westerly wind made the descent almost as long as the ascent. The short sheep-shorn grass was a delight to walk on, providing a bounce and having none of the bogginess of yesterday. Skiddaw was topped by clouds as were the fells down to Grasmoor.

On arriving back at the car, I swapped my windproof jacket for a waterproof one. We walked across to the start of the Ling Fell path and kept to the Corpse Road for the ascent so that we could get a view over to Cockermouth and the coast. We hit the wind head on and it took our breath away. The summit trig point was no place to linger so we made a direct descent down another grassy path. It had barely gone 11 a.m. when we arrived back at the car. What now? After a drink, we decided to pop over to Binsey, a mere 4 miles away to claim a bonus hill. 

Binsey is the most northerly Wainwright and a gentle plod up from Binsey Cottage on the Ireby Road. There were three cars there already. Even in February, the Lakes are a magnet for hillwalkers. It was another simple walk and a jog down, by noon, we had completed three Wainwrights and avoided the rain, just. There was a road closure at Ireby that added about 10 minutes to the journey home but I dropped John in Selkirk and was home before 5pm despite the traffic delays on the Edinburgh Southern bypass.

Ling Fell from Sale Fell

Broom Fell from Sale Fell

Embleton from Ling Fell

Sale Fell from Ling Fell

Ling Fell and Skiddaw in the cloud


Skiddaw from Binsey

 

Loweswater Fells


Keswick skyscape



Tuesday, 27 February

Ascent:      625 metres
Distance:   10 kilometres
Time:         2 hours 58 minutes

Burnbank Fell       475m
Blake Fell.             573m
Gavel Fell.             526m

The day had broken with grey fells outlined against a greying sky. The forecast was not auspicious, just terrible, even for the Lake District. We had decided to climb four smaller hills near Loweswater, some of the least visited hills in the far northwest of the Lake District. We had never abandoned planned walks and we saw no reason to change the habit of the past thirty-five years of hillwalking days.

It was a thirty-minute drive over Whinlater Pass to Loweswater. The rain that was steady as we left Keswick had become full flow by the time we parked at the Maggie's Bridge empty car park. Even putting on boots and waterproofs was an act of pre-soaking. Keith had his two phones with route maps safely encased in waterproof cases so I left my phone and maps in the car. Within minutes of starting water was seeping through my recently reproofed jacket and into my gloves. 

We reached Watergate Farm on Loweswater and found a path that ran steeply through the afforested Holme Wood and eventually brought us out at Holme Beck. We were now exposed to the full force of the wind-driven rain as we began to climb the pathless east ridge of Burnbank Fell. It captured all the ingredients that can make hillwalking such an exercise in advanced purgatory. Water running down the cuffs of my jacket had filled my gloves, a cold finger bath for all ten digits. Water had penetrated my jacket and all three layers of Merino vest and thin fleece tops, my shoulders were shivering but at least I didn't have to faff about looking at map and compass, Keith was doing that as we plodded on unaware of anything in the poor visibility..

Burnbank Fell was where some fence posts met, what was Wainwright playing at by describing this as a hill worthy of carrying his name? We took some bearings for the next hill, Blake Fell, we were on the summit ridge now and could follow the fence which occasionally would shift direction by a few degrees. Keith decided the weather was too bad to be bothered collecting a Birkett top at Sharp Knott. We knew this meant it was really bad, he never misses a top no matter what their classification in the lexicon of hill lists. The wind seemed to have shifted so it could continue to hit us in the face. This is where we decided that our fourth hill of the day, Hen Comb, should be deleted from the planned route. I could pick it up in more clement conditions with another three hills.

That left us with another kilometre and a half to Gavel Fell and the rain kept coming. Keith stopped to add another waterproof over his existing four layers. There was no need to stop for drinks, you could lick the rain running down your face. Reaching Gavel Fell was the highlight of the day, if only because we were about to descend from the wind and horizontal rain. We followed a fence down to the bridleway and stopped by the gate, the rain had abated and it was a chance to empty my gloves of water, take a drink and attempt a conversation. It was only 25 minutes from the car park and we charged down the short grassy track, minds bent on a hot shower and respite from one of the wettest and windiest days I have encountered. Keswick was pleasantly dull and dry.

Watergate Farm, Loweswater



Tuesday 27 February 2024

Blencathra

Blencathra from Doddick Fell

Monday, 26 February 2024

Ascent:      1024 metres
Distance:    13.5 kilometres 
Time:          4 hours 45 minutes 

Blencathra                       868m.  1hr 48mins
Atkinson Pike                  845 m. 2hrs 2mins
Mungrisdale Common     633m.  2hrs 25mins

Keith had organised another winter trip to the Lake District, staying at the excellent Keswick Youth Hostel. I drove down with John from Selkirk. We agreed to meet at Scales Farm below Blencathra at 10:30 am. The forecast was for a bright cold day with a 30mph northerly wind, it wasn’t wrong. There were several options for the ascent and we chose the path up Doddick Fell. Blencathra was in the clouds and the snow level was down to 700 metres. Crossing the Scales Beck involved some tricky scrambling on the slippy exposed slate before we began the steep grassy path that followed the apex of the ridge. At least we were sheltered from the strong northerly wind until we reached Doddick Fell where we took a few minutes before entering the jet stream to search for the Birkett top that Keith intended to collect and then wending our way up the zig-zags to Hallfell Top, otherwise known as the summit of Blancathra. There was no cairn just a windswept high point of this massive and impressive mountain. 

We immediately set off for Mungrisdale Common, one of the quirks of the Wainwrights. You descend 200 metres and ascend maybe 10 metres to reach it, Presumable Wainwright had his lunch there one day and decided it was a mountain, just lower than everything around it. 

As the number of classifications of British hill lists expands with Marilyns, Nuttalls, Birketts, Hewitts, Dodds and Tumps; all with rules about heights and drops to adjacent hills, you can't help but admire the Wainwright's artistic license of defining hills The rules are completely random depending more on the Ribble Bus routes and Wainwright's bloody-mindedness than any pseudo-scientific blending of the imperial and metric systems.

To celebrate this we had a lunch break at the small collection of stones that are supposedly the top (or bottom) of Mungrisdale Common. Keith, in his obsessional manner, found the accurately measured top about a hundred metres away using an app on his phone. After 15 minutes of eating food and taking a drink while the freezing northerly wind sapped any warmth out of us, we began the long climb back from Mungridale Common to the snow slopes north of Blencathra. It involved a long traverse through soft snow to Blencathra and then a pleasant descent vis Scales Fell to Scales Farm. 

We had timed it perfectly and arrived at the Keswick Youth Hostel at 4pm. As always, the nomenclature fails to reflect the clientele at this time of the year. The only question was whether there were more seventy-year-olds than sixty-year-olds, most of whom had been hostelling since the days when no cars were allowed, there were 20 or so bunks in a room and the warden was a taskmaster who made you peel potatoes or clean the outside toilet as part of the payment. Nowadays, £15 a night for a warm room, a kitchen and beer on draft seems like the sort of place that Youth might fancy but for the fact it is full of yesteryouth.

Ascent by Doddick Fell

Blencathra in cloud

Heading to Atkinson Pike

Looking back from Mungrisdale Common

Mungrisdale Common

Skiddaw from Blencathra 


Blencathra from Scales Fell

 

Thursday 15 February 2024

Universities: the facts about fiction


Headlines in the Sunday Times, Times and Telegraph over the last few weeks have focused on how British students are failing to get places at University because of the massive increase in foreign students taking up places. These stories were ramped up by GB News, never slow to escalate its prejudices, saying that 'it made their blood boil', yet another literal fiction. These claims all fit the post-Brexit tendency of the government and its fourth estate behemoths to blame the foreigners or better still the EU for the ever-mounting list of catastrophes As is often the case the excellent 'More or Less' programme on Radio 4 subjected these claims to their verification experts. By the simple expedient of examining facts rather than accepting the wished-for fiction as the default narrative, the story toppled.

The number of UK students going to English Universities increased by 19,135 in the five years from 2019 to 2024, a 4.85% increase. The number of International students from outside the EU increased by 15,000 or  34.8% over this period but this was more than offset by a reduction of 20,000 students from the EU countries meaning a net reduction of 5000 students from overseas. Many of the International students are now enrolled on one-year induction courses rather than degree courses that most European students had previously enrolled for.  

It could be argued that Universities, by charging higher fees than had been possible before when EU students had paid the same fees as UK students, had found a way to fund more UK students. However, in the process, they have dumbed down the entrance requirements and qualifications on offer to International students and opened an alternative route for in-migration. This is not a narrative that we will hear from either government ministers or the universities. 'Follow the Money' is the silent motto for them both. Their moral compass is calibrated to 270°, students from the southeast, just like most of the government's infrastructure investment.

Monday 5 February 2024

The Burrell Collection

Entrance to the Burrell

The Burrell Collection Museum opened in Glasgow's Pollok Grounds in 1983. We lived nearby and it became a regular haunt for taking our young children out or for Aileen to visit during the week whilst the children were at playgroups and nursery. When combined with the walks in the wonderful woodlands that it overlooked through its expansive glass curtain and its open-plan cafe it was an ideal place to take our weekend visitors. Our children learnt to ride their bikes on the newly laid tracks that now provide access to the expensive car park. I ran through Pollok Grounds two or three times a week on my way home from work and then again at the weekend. 

Sir William Burrell was the son of a Glasgow shipping owner who became a successful businessman when he took over his father's business. He was also an art aficionado and Glasgow councillor. His bequest of the collection made in 1944, which he insisted also belonged to Lady Constance, his wife, was to the city of Glasgow. It included the funding for a new building to house the collection in a location with no pollution and ideally within 4 miles of Killearn in Stirling. It took many years trying to satisfy these conditions before the Glasgow city fathers agreed on a site on the grounds of Pollok House, which was gifted by its late owner Sir John Maxwell-Stirling, founder member of the National Trust for Scotland. It was less than 4 miles from, not Killearn, but Glasgow City Centre. 

The Burrell Collection of 9000 items includes Chinese art, 200 tapestries, French Impressionist paintings including Degas, Cezanne and Manet, paintings by the Glasgow Boys, Egyptian stone carvings and Greek vases and ceramics. It is an eclectic collection made possible by the immense wealth from selling his cargo ships during the Great War. Burrell employed agents throughout Europe to scour for artefacts that he was interested in. He was a shrewd collector and struck hard bargains in the 1930s and 1940s when a worldwide depression and wars had driven down competition for art collections. This included portals from Hornby Castle in Yorkshire that Burrell bought from Randolph Hearst, the American newspaper magnate, who had bought them for a castle he owned in Wales before his wealth had been depleted by the Great Depression.  

The museum closed in 2016 for an extensive refit that cost £16m and took 6 years to complete, partly because of Covid. It was opened by King Charles, one of his earliest engagements after ascending the throne in 2022. Aileen and I had been looking forward to its reopening for a couple of years and it was one of her wishes after coming home from the hospital but sadly she was unable to travel. I took myself there today, a wet Monday when I thought it would be quiet. I was the first in at 10:00 a.m., and twenty minutes later as I wandered around an empty downstairs gallery, the attendant told me she had never known the museum with so few visitors. I had always loved the spaces and light in the building and today I was free to enjoy the collection without the noise and intrusion of other visitors or supervising three energetic and curious children. It gave me time to reflect on how one man could afford and collect so many artefacts from so many parts of the world. Seeing Rodin's statue also got me thinking about how philanthropy used to work for the benefit of local communities in the days before moonshots. 

I spent the first hour absorbing the exhibits and then joined a guided tour of some of the highlights, most of which I had already admired without having to listen to the reciting of dates and well-rehearsed stories of the volunteer guide. Nevertheless, there were some interesting asides. It was 1 pm before I left for a quick walk around the North Wood in the rain. It had been a good way to spend the morning and revisit one of our favourite places in Glasgow, the Burrell was the Art Fund Museum of the Year, 2023.


Warwick Vase in the foyer

Ming Dynasty, Figure of Luodon set against the North Wood

Boudin: Atmospheric Skies

Cezanne; Chateau de Medan

Manet: Women drinking Beer

Tapestry Fight between aHeron and Falcon

One of many Iranian Tapestries

 
A Corridor Gallery

Rodin: The Thinker



Thursday 18 January 2024

London: home of the Money Tree

St Pancras
My first trip of the year was to visit family in London. It was to be the anniversary of Aileen leaving us. My daughter had proposed coming north but with her work and family to consider, I thought it better to go down to London. The LNER train arrived ahead of schedule and I had to decide how best to get to the new house, I would no longer be greeted by the happy drumming at Brixton underground station close to the old house. I decided to travel overground from St Pancras, one of my favourite London buildings and terminals. I crossed the road from King's Cross and entered the magnificent Victorian building, its roof vault encasing many high-end cafes, bars and shops. It was probably a mistake, Aileen and I had whiled away part of an afternoon in one of the cafes with a live pianist a few years earlier, but no, it rekindled a fond memory. I caught the Thameslink train from the expensively modernised station below St Pancras, it wasn't just a terminal. I arrived at their new house that was undergoing a major refit, I had been warned.

The next morning, I left early and travelled across London by overground train to Chiswick where my friends from France have an apartment. It was a 4-kilometre walk from the station to the apartment, mainly along the north bank of the Thames. It was grey and cold and the tide was out as I arrived at Hammersmith Bridge, it looked strangely familiar although I had never ventured here before. I then realised I was standing where the body had been found in an episode of Silent Witness the previous week. 

We had a long brunch, Ian had unwittingly introduced me to Aileen 45 years ago and we had seen him often since and Beatrix too for the past 30 years. They were life friends. During Aileen's final weeks, Ian and Beatrix had flown over from Marseilles to visit her and they FaceTimed every few days. Aileen had always been besotted by France, Beatrix understood this and sent postcards of typical French scenes almost daily. They were stacked on her bedside table for constant viewing. Ian and Beatrix were only over on a short visit to the UK so I left them early in the afternoon and caught the underground to Green Park. 

I was heading to John Lewis in Oxford Street, one of the few department stores left in Britain worth visiting. It also gave me the chance for a meander through Mayfair. It never ceases to amaze me how many top-of-the-range diplomatic cars are on the streets in this part of London. Apparently, the United States has over 600 diplomatic vehicles and both Saudi Arabia and the UAE have over 300. They mostly have high-powered Internal Combustion Engines (ICE), receive tax concessions and seem to dominate parking places in this part of London. It is allegedly a low-emission zone, an area where even most of the taxis are now electric vehicles. The garage franchises for Bentley, Ferrari, Bugatti, and Aston Martin suggest that Mayfair really is the UK's epicentre of untrammelled wealth and mega carbon footprints and not only diplomatic ones. Even wine sellers acknowledge this by trading under the name Hedonism Wines. I stumbled through the streets, agog at the widespread upgrading of immaculately maintained buildings, the blue plaques festooning the buildings were even more common than Ferraris. Mayfair was a veritable money tree. Talking of which, Carrie Johnson did not feel that John Lewis was expensive or special enough, more of a nightmare. I thought it was normal, more like Jurgen Klopp than Jose Mourinho.

We went to a local pub on Friday evening for a fine meal. The extensive range of eateries in London is one of the examples where competition between small businesses seems to work to the benefit of customers, I just wish the government realised that this type of competition didn't extend to the large corporations, privatised companies and monopolies who were more concerned with wiping out competitors and ramping up prices for their clients. The good food theme was repeated the following evening when a carry-out from a local Indian restaurant produced the best Indian meal since pre-COVID days. The rest of Saturday was spent visiting the excellent library and workspace that hosted a community-run coffee shop, taking grandchildren to various activities and exploring parks near the new house on a day when temperatures barely exceeded freezing levels and that included the house that was awash with plumbers and builders.

The next day brought some sunshine and we worked all morning in the garden taking down overgrown trees and bushes and running garden rubbish to the local tip. And then a walk for lunch at a favourite Italian cafe before exploring Dulwich and Sydenham Hill where we happened on a blue plaque for the man who invented Bovril. My step count in London had mounted without any mountains. I returned home the next day, and London was sparkling in the morning sun as I crossed the Thames. It was another comfortable train journey and on time. As we crossed the River Tweed at Berwick, I felt a pang of joy to be almost home alone again.

The Thames at Chiswick

Mayfair toys

Hedonism in Mayfair? Who'd have thought

Ten




Thames from Blackfriars Station
 
Crossing the River Tweed at Berwick

Wednesday 17 January 2024

Winter on Lime Craig

Lime Craig ascent
It was so cold that the bins could not be emptied, the lids were frozen. The predicted heavy snow had not arrived, just a fine sprinkling like icing sugar to sweeten the walk. I left it until 11:00 a.m. The roads were mainly cleared but devoid of traffic. As I entered the Braeval car park there was only one car and it belonged to a friend who had just spent an hour and a half on the trails without seeing anyone. We chatted for a while and as I set off up the hill my hands were already numb from the cold. The grip on the thin layer of snow was good but I walked at a more sedate pace than usual, enjoying the spectacular scenery. It was a joyous blend of blues, greens and whites with only the occasional robin and buzzard to highlight the tranquillity.

Occasions like this, still cold air and amazing clarity are the perfect conditions for thinking. I replayed some memories before focusing on how best to set up a new blog on behalf of some colleagues. I pattered around the summit for a few minutes, soaking up the midday sun before a relaxed descent. Unfortunately, I arrived down as the 1 p.m. news started for the short drive home. It was yet another day when the UK's rag bag of a government was repurposing its wretched Rwanda policy, giving a good impression of its suicidal tendencies. Has there ever been a government that has spent so much on so few and achieved nothing at all? Well, perhaps Rishi Sunak's £2bn spending on crony VIP contracts for PPE but at least Lady Mone got a yacht out of it.

Looking north-west

Ben Lomond and Ben Venue

Braeval

 

Sunday 7 January 2024

Dumyat and the University

Dumyat across Airthrey Loch at Stirling University

Sunday 7 January, 2024

The New Year was getting old and I was stuck in a rut, the miserable weather was not helping. I had only made a couple of attempts to get any exercise all week. I noticed there was a Munro exhibition at the MacRobert Centre so decided to pay a visit and perhaps take a walk around the beautiful campus grounds of Stirling University. An overnight frost and blue skies hurried me on and I arrived before the exhibition hall opened. I decided to take a walk up Dumyat, the 419-metre hill that provides an excellent viewpoint of the Forth Valley and the Highlands to the northwest.

I had not been to the University Campus or the MacRobert for almost two years, and it was over ten years since I was last up Dumyat. Both places bring back strong memories. I first climbed Dumyat as a competitor in the annual hill race the year after I began hill running. It is a fairly steep ascent through a forest and then onto the open hillside, I was 12th out of about 100 competitors at the summit but descending was my weakness and I drifted backwards 10 or so places as I negotiated the rocky sections and the tree roots in the forest before gaining places on the road for the last kilometre to the finish. It took 41 minutes for the 6-mile route up and down the hill from the start by the Pathfinder Building. I was due to have an interview for a job in Stirling the following week so I was also checking out the local runs. I got the job and Dumyat became a lunchtime training run with a colleague who was also a keen hill runner, it took us about 1 hour and 15 minutes from the office. By this time I was more involved in Munro bashing so I never repeated the hill race.

In December 1996, a Social Work colleague who had had a breakdown following the Dunblane shootings was off work and he had not been out or seen anyone other than his family for several months. I was contacted by his brother, a Professor of Psychology, who explained that his brother would like to speak to me. I arranged to visit him but he wanted to go on a walk up Dumyat after dark, it was not a surprise, we were both keen hillwalkers and I presumed he wanted some privacy for a conversation. It was a cold December evening, I collected him from home and we climbed the hill. He was silent in the car and on the ascent, only his headtorch confirmed his presence as I related to him what had been happening at work during his absence. We reached the summit and as we started the descent he found his voice and opened up about his trauma. He invited me for tea with his family and it became a regular event every couple of weeks until he returned to work.

After retiring I made another late evening visit to the hill with an ex-work colleague who was about to move on and once again it was dark as we descended and retired to a local Indian restaurant. All of these events had been forgotten until I started the ascent today and they came alive as I rediscovered familiar routes that triggered evocative memories. The walk around Airthrey Loch and the start of the walk on the route of the hill race raised thoughts of how the hell did I ever manage to run this? 

As I left the steep climb through the forest I could see lots of people walking from a car park on Sheriffmuir Road, they had 200 metres less to climb. The footpath through the forest was veneered with icy mud and then, after climbing a fence, there was a frozen grassy path across the open hillside until I joined the main path from the car park that had been gravelled and was smeared with dangerous ice in places. Being Sunday, there were lots of families trailing children and dogs on leads and, being Bridge of Allan, there were lots of university types in the mix. 

It took longer than used to be the case to reach the summit where there must have been 30 or 40 people circling the large cairn, taking photos and admiring the exceptional views. I had always admired the cairn at the summit which is topped by a beacon that was used as a signalling point. It has been joined recently by a large pale blue monument for the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders, an incongruous addition to a fine summit. Along with the Staffordshire Bull Terrier that was roaming freely, the monument made me want to escape as quickly as possible.

The descent was reasonably quick and I was able to see the Munro exhibition which was a fairly limited affair, although I did learn about Professor Heddle who had made a list of 409 hills that were 3000-footers and climbed 350 of them by 1891. This was before Sir Hugh Munro, drawing on Heddle, produced his list and the credit for creating a sport that has mesmerised mountain lovers ever since. The MacRobert Centre also brought back another pile of memories: watching the Boys of the Loch in the 1970s, the Singing Kettle and Pantos when the children were young and dozens of films that Aileen had taken me along to see in the intimate small cinema. 

I also walked around many of the buildings that had appeared on the campus. At work, I spent quite a lot of time working with three of the University Principals and staff as we successfully bid for the Scottish Institute of Sport to be based on the Stirling campus and secured funding for the Stirling Management Centre and the Innovation Park. As I left the campus I felt privileged to have been able to have been involved in so much work and enjoy leisure time on such a beautiful campus. I will be back again to renew my acquaintance with this place and its nearby hills

Airthrey Loch

Stirling and the Forth Valley from Dumyat

Looking northwest from the summit

The path up Dumyat - Ben Ledi in the centre distance

Monument and Beacon

Looking south-east

Whiskey Bonds

Ochils

Airthrey Loch and Wallace Monument