THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERYDAY (10)

Our original plan on Wednesday was to drive down to the other side of Girvan and then climb the nearby coastal hills which we understood afforded some wonderful views of Arran and beyond. Unfortunately, when we got there, we discovered that getting from the parking to the start of the walk, along a main road, would be too dangerous, especially with two dogs in tow. So we gave up on our original plan and continued down the road to the coastal village of Ballantrae.

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The harbour (of sorts) at Ballantrae.

Cottages and fish crates on the sea front.

The beach at Ballantrae with driftwood (very arty).

The grey smudge on the horizon in the next photo is Northern Ireland.



We were hoping to go for a walk in the hills behind Ballantrae, but unfortunately the post office and general store had run out of walk leaflets long ago and the owner had never bothered to replace them. The tourist industry in North and South Ayrshire is half hearted to say the least. They could take a leaf out of the book of East Ayrshire whose tourism staff are much better organised and efficient.

So, we meandered inland looking for something to do with the day, ending up at Glen Trool in the Galloway Forrest Park. This was to be our third visit to this beautiful valley in fifteen years and every time we visit we find that the Forestry Commission have made the experience even more attractive. This time we had new toilets, better paths, a new bridge over the Water of Trool which meant we didn't have to brave the stepping stones (which are scary enough when it hasn't been raining for weeks on end), and lots of pretty pictures of the night sky. This, far south western, area of Scotland has the darkest skies in mainland Britain at night (very little light pollution) and the Forestry Commission have made a major thing out of this at Glen Trool. However, we hoped to take a jaunt round the lower slopes of the Merrick (the highest hill in this part of Scotland) and then make our way back to the car along the riverbank long before nightfall. This plan, unlike all our previous ones that day, actually came together and a great time was had by all as they say.

A lot of Northern England and Scotland is covered in fir tree plantations. The government insisted on doing this back in the 1920s (I think). But immediately the trees were planted the cost of foreign pine plummeted and all the forests, which had become a monotonous eyesore in some of the most beautiful parts of Britain, were made uneconomical to manage commercially. So for decades they just sat there, rows and rows of boring foreign fir trees (not even our native, majestic Douglas pine, which didn't grow straight enough or something like that). Fortunately the Forestry Commission are now removing whole swathes of these trees and bringing sunlight back to the hills. This exposes the trees that had spent the last eighty years or so protected by thousands of other trees to the elements and, as they had not put down deep enough roots, at the first puff of wind they fall over. The exposed roots of the fallen tree in the next photo are about forty feet across.

Babbling brooks and waterfalls on the slopes of the Awful Hand.

Looking up the glen (valley).

After descending from the hills at the bottom of Loch Trool we crossed the river and took a refreshment break at the site of the Battle of Glen Trool. The details of the battle given on a board where we sat down is mostly hogwash, and doesn't mention the fact that the only reason the English king was hammering the Scots at the time was because the Scots kept crossing the border in great numbers and attacking the north of England. They Scots make themselves out to be hard done by but they started it. No way did the English kings want to own Scotland. It was a wilderness inhabited by homicidal maniacs. the following account from Wikipedia is far more accurate and actually mentions the fact that Robert the Bruce was a murderer before he was anything else.

The Battle of Glen Trool was a minor engagement in the Scottish Wars of Independence, fought in April 1307. Glen Trool is a narrow glen in the Southern Uplands of Galloway, Scotland. Loch Trool is aligned on an East-West axis and is flanked on both sides by steep rising hills, making it ideal for an ambush. The battlefield is currently under research to be inventoried and protected by Historic Scotland under the Scottish Historical Environment Policy of 2009.

Robert Bruce had been involved in the murder of John "the Red" Comyn, a leading rival, and one of the most powerful men in Scotland, the previous year 1306. This led to a bitter civil war between the Bruce's faction and the Comyns and their allies, notably Edward I.

After his defeat at the Battle of Methven and subsequently at the Battle of Dalry in the summer of 1306 the recently crowned King Robert was little better than a fugitive, disappearing altogether from the historical record for a number of months. It wasn't until the spring of 1307 that he made a reappearance, landing in the south-west of Scotland with soldiers recruited, for the most part, from the Western Isles. It was an understandable move; for he came ashore in his own earldom of Carrick, where he could expect to command a large degree of local support. Perhaps even more important the countryside itself was well known to Bruce, and there were plenty of remote and difficult areas to allow cover and protection for his band of guerrillas. But it was also a move bold to the point of foolhardiness. The English border was not far distant; many of the local castles were strongly held by Edward's forces; and, perhaps most important of all, the Lordship of Galloway, the old Balliol patrimony, was adjacent to Carrick, and many of the local families were hostile to Bruce and his cause. When his brothers Thomas and Alexander attempted a landing on the shores of Loch Ryan, they met with disaster at the hands of Dungal MacDougall, the leading Balliol supporter in the area. Against all the odds Bruce managed to establish a firm base in the area; but it was vital that he made progress against the enemy if his cause was to attract the additional support that was so clearly needed. An early success came with a raid on an English camp on the eastern shores of the Clatteringshaws Loch. This would have brought in fresh blood; it also alerted the enemy to his presence. Aymer de Valence, Bruce's old opponent at Methven, received intelligence that his enemy was encamped in at the head of Glen Trool. This was a difficult position to approach, for the Loch takes up much of the glen, and only a narrow track led directly to Bruce's camp. It was arguably best not to attempt anything too dramatic, but Valence sent a small raiding party ahead, perhaps hoping to catch the enemy offguard, in much the same fashion as Methven. Things were otherwise this time; making effective use of the terrain, and the knights lack of mobility, Bruce drove them back with seemingly no loss-apart from some horses-but much humiliation. Bruce not only survived but went on the following month to win his first important engagement at the Battle of Loudon Hill.

Much of the information we have about the Battle of Glen Trool comes from the rhyming account of John Barbour. Barbour is an important source; but it should also be remembered that The Bruce allows propaganda to walk hand-in-hand with history, hardly surprising for the time. Glen Trool is in many ways best seen as the first wave of the Bruce flag, subject to considerable later amplification and exaggeration. It only receives a passing mention in the English records of the time in reference to some horses lost "in the pursuit of Robert de Brus between Glentruyl and Glenheur, on the army's last day in Galloway." It is not in any sense the first milestone on the road to Bannockburn; and the rebel king was chased just as closely as before. It did, nevertheless, prove that Bruce had acquired an almost chameleon-like ability to change and adapt to circumstances, advancing and retreating as the occasion demanded. This is the true key to his genius as a soldier.

Just after the site of the above battle we came across a covenanter's grave.

Covenanters were very silly people who refused to do what Archbishop Laud told them to do. So Charles I got his army to kill a whole load of them.

Or, as the Scottish Covenanter Memorials Association put it:

Simply stated, the Covenanters were those people in Scotland who signed the National Covenant in 1638. They signed this Covenant to confirm their opposition to the interference by the Stuart kings in the affairs of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland. The Stuart kings harboured the belief of the Divine Right of the Monarch. Not only did they believe that God wished them to be the infallible rulers of their kingdom - they also believed that they were the spiritual heads of the Church of Scotland. This latter belief could not be accepted by the Scots. No man, not even a king, could be spiritual head of their church. Only Jesus Christ could be spiritual head of a Christian church. This was the nub of the entire Covenanting struggle.

King Charles I had introduced the Book of Common Prayer to Scotland in 1637 to the fury and resentment of the populace. He declared that opposition to the new liturgy would be treason, and thus came about the Covenant. There followed a period of very severe repression. Ministers with Covenanting sympathies were "outed" from their churches by the authorities, and had to leave their parishes. Many continued to preach at "conventicles" in the open air or in barns and houses. This became an offence punishable by death. Citizens who did not attend their local churches (which were now in the charge of Episcopalian "curates") could be heavily fined, and such offenders were regarded as rebels, who could be questioned, even under torture. They could be asked to take various oaths, which not only declared loyalty to the king, but also to accept his as head of the church. Failure to take such an oath could result in summary execution by the muskets of the dragoons, who were scouring the districts looking for rebels.

The persecutions became more frequent and cruel on the Restoration of Charles II in 1660. As time went on more and more ordinary folk became involved, and skirmishes and battles took place against Government troops. In 1678 the Government raised an army of 6,000 Highlanders, who had no love for the Presbyterian lowlanders. This army swept through the west and south of Scotland, looting and plundering. They remained for many years, quartering themselves on the already impoverished Covenanters

Before you start feeling all sorry for them ask a member of the Scottish Episcopal Church what those "Only Jesus can be the head of the Church" Christians did to them when William of Orange turned the tables and gave the Presbyterians all the power after getting rid of the Scottish king and subjecting Scotland the Brave to hundreds of years of German rule.

Mrs MP and the girls walk briskly away from the Covenanter's tomb, unimpressed.

All along the riverbank.

The tea room and tourist information centre where we began and ended our walk.

MRS WILKE'S LOLDOG OF THE WEEK

THE RAIN IT RAINETH EVERYDAY (9)

Although the British have never shirked from their responsibility of massacring foreign types in their own countries for their own enlightenment we have been somewhat reluctant to engage in bloody revolution on our own patch. Of course, there was that embarrassing incident of regicide back in the seventeenth century but as soon as Oliver Cromwell had descended into hell we decapitated the puritanical puritan leaders, stuck their heads on sharp sticks on our city walls, reopened the theatres, started celebrating Christmas again and went back to doing what our betters told us to do. This is a bit strange as our aristocracy are all French (even now over 50% of the land in the UK is owned by descendants of the genocidal barons who came over with William the Conqueror) and so, being foreign, should be subject to a good massacring for their own good.

However, although our society is class ridden in the extreme your average British pleb has never respected the well to do and the rest of the establishment (including the clergy). Therefore, we have always paid lip service to the class system whilst seeking to undermine the toffs and relieve them of their ancient, stolen wealth. Probably the most effective way we have so far come up with to make the hereditary rich suffer is the inheritance tax (death duties) introduced fully in 1894. This is a tax on the property of the rich when they die. Although, in our current right wing political climate it has become a somewhat impotent tax (most landowners have found ways round paying it), during the twentieth century many of the landed gentry and aristocracy had to sell up (or donate to the nation) their stately homes in order to pay the tax following the death of their previous owners. Because the Treasury was always willing to cut a deal if the grand houses and estates were bequeathed to the British people we have ended up with a large number of aristocrat's homes now in (pseudo) public ownership.

I say "pseudo" public because most of them are in the care of an institution known as the National Trust. Like all of the agencies responsible for the delivering of culture in Britain, the National Trust is funded, one way or another, by the working classes and the middle classes (the upper class, as in most of the world, don't pay taxes and the like). Like all the agencies responsible for the delivering of culture in Britain, the National Trust is run by the middle classes and so what it provides is aimed at satisfying the cultural needs of the middle classes. However, the working classes have always had a fascination for stately homes and the like and love to visit them. The middle classes don't want this and so they price the admission to these, so called, "national" treasures in such a way that it encourages the middle classes to visit whilst excluding those on low incomes. For example, there is a castle and estate called Culzean, down the road from where we are now camped. It costs fifteen pounds each to get in. Now, for a doctor on eighty grand plus a year, or even a teacher on thirty grand plus, thirty pounds for a couple is no great expense. But for those earning the minimum wage it is a huge amount of money. So the National Trust is not a national trust. Like the National Theatre, The National Opera and even the Sage Concert Hall in Gateshead (my local venue) it is just another way of relieving the working class of its limited wealth in order to entertain the middle classes at a cost conducive to their wage packets.

However, there are some councils in the UK who still believe that they serve all the people under their jurisdiction rather than just those living in the leafy suburbs of their towns. When a "national treasure" ends up under their control it is common for entry to such places  to be free for everybody. These are the places that the MadGang search out when they are on holiday and on Tuesday we struck gold.

I don't know why but I had expected the town of Kilmarnock to be a really grotty place, similar to Irvine which we visited at the beginning of our time in the Ayrshires. However, although a little sombre, it turned out to be a tidy, well preserved town bordering on the attractive in places. The jewel in its crown has to be Dean Castle Country Park situated on the town's northern edges.

DEAN CASTLE COUNTRY PARK is a fantastic free day out for all the family. The country park, covering over 200 acres, is nestled in the heart of Kilmarnock and offers something for kids and adults alike to enjoy. It boasts beautiful woodland walks, adventure playground, urban farm, visitor centre, tearoom, shop and a fantastic 14th century castle housing world class collections including historic weapons, armour and musical instruments. Explore the park using scenic paths and trails - each season brings with it ever changing plants and wildlife that you might spy along the way. With over 80 hectares of countryside within a very urban area, the park is a great place to get away from the stresses of everyday life and see some fantastic wildlife. Visit our urban farm area and meet some of the residents– Bruno, Lucy and Murron the kune kune pigs, our fallow deer herd, llamas and highland cattle and let’s not forget old favourites - Scott the Clydesdale and Timmy and Pip the donkeys. Take a free tour of the castle and find out what it’s like to wear some real armour or have a go at playing some replica musical instruments. Take part in some fun environmental education with the resident Ranger Service who will also answer any natural history related questions that you may have. From classic car rallies to minibeast hunts, Dean Castle Country Park offers an extensive and varied events programme throughout the year.

A highland coo.

Bollocks!

When the machines take over this is what sheep will look like.

The yellow bird in this photo is a fledgling budgerigar. A pair of lovebirds stole the egg and when it hatched they cared for the newborn as if it was their own. However, so did its true parents. You can have too much love. A lady from the nearby cafe told us that the "little fella" spent most of its time hiding from its four parents who were all determined to feed it constantly. It seems to have survived its ordeal and it's certainly a well fed chick.

A Clydesdale.

Peaty, Scottish water.

Dean Castle is situated in the Dean Castle Country Park in Kilmarnock, East Ayrshire, Scotland. It was the stronghold for the Boyd Family, who were lords of Kilmarnock for over 400 years. The Castle takes its name from ‘The Dean’ or wooded valley, a common place name in Scotland. However, until about 1700 it was called Kilmarnock Castle. Owned originally by the Boyd family, it has strong historical connections with many people and events famous in Scottish history. Robert the Bruce who gave the Boyds these lands; James III of Scotland whose sister married a Boyd; the Covenanters, some of whom were imprisoned here; Bonnie Prince Charlie, whose rebellion was joined by the 4th Earl of Kilmarnock and Robert Burns who was encouraged to publish his poetry by the Earl of Glencairn who owned the Castle at that time.

In 1975 the 9th Lord Howard de Walden gifted the castle, estate, his father’s collections of arms and armour, and his grandfather’s collection of musical instruments to the people of Kilmarnock. The collections of arms and armour are on display in the Great Hall of the keep and the musical instruments are on display in the Solar of the keep. The banqueting hall displays many items owned by East Ayrshire council including Kilmarnock Edition of Robert Burns poetry and many works of art. The private chamber of the Earls of Kilmarnock has a complete model of the castle. Legend has it that after the 4th Earl of Kilmarnock was beheaded for treason in London on 18 August 1746 his head was carried back to Dean castle and was stored in a large chest which is still present in the Laigh Tower. The story of the 4th Earl’s head being kept in the castle has attracted many ghost hunters who have studied the castle and believe there is a presence in the palace. A large bust of William Wallace is on display on the ground floor of the palace.

The Robert Burns World Federation recently unveiled a plaque to the memory of those who lost their lives in the terrorist attacks on 11 September 2001. The plaque reads: Dedicated to the victims of terrorism in the USA on 11 September 2001 "Man’s Inhumanity to man Makes countless thousands mourn!" Robert Burns (1759 – 1796)

After our walk around Dean Castle Country Park we popped down the road to Mauchline to visit the BURNS HOUSE museum. Unlike the Alloway Burns Museum it was free to get in. Although it is not very big, the curators have put together a fascinating exhibition, majoring on the things about Robert Burns people really want to know about - his rakish sex life for example. Whilst at Mauchline, Burns managed to get one woman pregnant twice and, more than likely, another woman pregnant just the once - both out of wedlock. He had to confess his sins three times in the local kirk, but, embarrassing as that might have been, the minister reaffirmed his bachelor status after he had been through the ordeal. As for the two women, one of them died and the other ended up marrying Burns after her father relented and allowed the marriage shortly after Burns made his fortune in Edinburgh.

Then we drove to the beach near the Royal Troon Golf Club (where I think hitting a small ball into a small hole with a stick was invented). The dogs didn't want to play golf, they preferred running around on the sand like lunatics.

A massive, washed up jellyfish. I hate them. When Glenna finds one on the beach she pees on it. That'll teach the blighters.

After all that it was too late to start cooking dinner for ourselves and so we went to the newly reopened hostelry in the village of Kirkmichael. The food was delicious and beautifully presented and (above all) extremely reasonable pricewise. To be exact it was the best pub grub either of us had eaten in our lives. It was gastro-pub standard plus for the cost of a bar snack. After our meal I told the waitress how brilliant I thought the chef was and how lucky they were to have such a culinary genius working in their village pub. She thanked me for my compliment and then pointed out that it was, in fact, the chef's day off and the meals had been prepared by his assistant. All I can say is if you are ever in South Ayrshire do make a point of visiting THE KIRKMICHAEL ARMS. They serve food all day and they also serve the best pint of real ale in Scotland.