Officially, the Leadhills & Wanlockhead Railway is Britain’s highest narrow gauge adhesion railway reaching almost 1500 feet above sea level. It runs from Leadhills to Glengonnar near Wanlockhead which is Scotland's highest village. Unofficially, it's an incredibly dinky big little railway whose charm lies in the incongruity of a brightly painted Trumpton-esque train chugging its way through a particularly bleak part of Scotland. That and the delightfully slow pointlessness of the journey.

At Leadhills there’s a lovely little station covered in signs reclaimed from defunct railways. Inside the shop there are things to delight serious trainspotters and for the amateurs, Thomas the Tank Engine toys and Ivor the Engine fudge. There are only two stops on the line (two ends, basically) and the journey from Leadhills to Glengonnar takes roughly 10 minutes, running every 40 minutes or so. It’s not far and you could probably walk it quicker but that’s not the point. Travelling at such a leisurely pace is so relaxing, and there's plenty of time to enjoy the (lack of) scenery. It’s beautiful in a strange, rugged way. Due to the altitude and exposure nothing really grows apart from heather and gorse and there's nothing else here apart from fragments of the old lead mines that gave the railway its original raison d'etre.

For the journey itself pick one of the carriages that has closed windows and doors. It can get bracing up here, even in summer. We visited in July and bravely travelled in an open carriage, with our jackets on and hoods up. At the end of the line the track stops abruptly in what appears to be the middle of nowhere. Actually it's the invisible line between South Lanarkshire and Dumfries and Galloway. A modern border dispute characteristic of the Wild West is stopping its extension all the way into Wanlockhead. Instead you need to “detrain” and walk along the track bed past sheep droppings and rabbit carcasses. Once there you can refuel in Scotland’s highest pub, The Wanlockhead Inn, or try gold panning at the Lead Mining Museum which also has a decent cafe.

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Posted by Anne on July 18, 2008 | Filed under Anne Scotland Transportation
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Voltaire & Rousseau is everything that a great second-hand bookshop should be. Silent, dishevelled and rammed to the rafters with great books. It has been quietly sitting in Otago Lane for over 30 years, becoming a mecca for Glasgow's students and intellectuals. It's not a big place but every inch is chock full of something. What's I love most about it is that there's no real sense of hierarchy. It gives the impression that no book is too unfashionable, too old or too shabby. New books mingle with old. Hardbacks and paperbacks come together, pamphlets are fair game. If the spine is broken or the dust jacket's ripped that's fine, no one stands on ceremony here. It feels like more a tribute to the printed word than a business.

As you enter there's an ante-room filled with the discards of serious book sorting efforts. You can often hit paydirt here. Wonderful vintage books that even charity shops won't touch, Penguin paperbacks, Faber plays, Haynes car manuals, 1970s textbooks, and spectacular children's books from the 1950s are piled high, sprinkled with general odds and ends like pamphlets, maps and even a pile of disembodied dust jackets.

Inside, the shop is a delicious muddle of books. Shelves line the walls and run in a spine up the middle. They tidied up once, for an appearance in Channel 4 comedy The Book Group but usually the books spill off the shelves in all directions. Browsing is encouraged by the sheer logistics of getting anywhere. To move at all it is necessary to shuffle along the tight alley of visible carpet. At the back on a hairpin bend, the way is obstructed by some cat food and a cat bowl. The cats are as much a part of the shop as the books and can often be seen sleeping in drawers or other cosy places.

Round the corner, a ladder has sat still for too long and had some books shoved on it, blocking the way. Progress down this aisle is particularly tricky as what's on the shelves is obscured by the waist high pile of overspill. Occasionally the silence is disturbed by the gentle plomph of a book-related landslip. Like a game of Jenga, pick up the wrong one and the whole thing collapses. This only adds to the wonderful experience; the sense that there's something amazing but out of reach beneath the surface.

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Posted by Anne on July 05, 2008 | Filed under Anne Scotland Shops
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I got a tip-off about this place (thanks Joe). Descriptions of a cafe lost in time off the M74 near the Scottish-English border. No name, no clear directions, just a cafe in Gretna that was like walking into someone's front room. Surprisingly we found it. As you enter Gretna the town (distinct from its famous neighbour, the wedding mecca of Gretna Green) there is a small building with "CAFE" painted on the gable end. There was a sign outside saying it was open, despite all appearances to the contrary. We walked into an empty room, as described, more front room than cafe. Starbucks it ain't. From the back shop a lady shuffled out. I was going to say an old lady but she wasn't that old. But middle aged would be flattering. Anyway, a lady of a certain age shuffled out, looking a bit stern. I asked if the cafe was open and she barked "Just and no more" explaining that she was "painting out the back". There was no invitation to sit but we did anyway, as I had gone slightly giddy with the strangeness of it all.

The decor, if that's the word, was "granny chic". There were odd assortments of nick-nacks for sale behind our heads, a random portrait of Edward VII and strangest of all a huge photo of a young boy hanging above the fireplace. Judging by the colours and hairstyle in the photo it must have been taken at least 30 years ago. Its size and prominence and the fact that there was a smaller version on the other side of the room led me to think that this poor boy who must have been close to the owner's heart met a terrible end. There was a whiff of tragedy about the whole scene.

The piece de resistance for this whole strange affair was Rupert the parrot, who patrolled his cage in the centre of the cafe with a confidence that suggested he was the guvnor. My son headed straight over to say hello and of course Rupert went straight for his fingers. Terrified, he ran away to eat his cake while the owner gave us his life story. He can talk but doesn't like to do it in public (yeah right). He only ever likes one person in a couple, either the man or the woman. "It can drive a wedge between you". And of course with health and safety he shouldn't be there at all. In high season he's out the back where he belongs.

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Posted by Anne on June 13, 2008 | Filed under Anne Eats Scotland
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Cellardyke in the East Neuk of Fife is not notable for many things. Home to influential musicians, the Fence Collective and Britain's first case of bird flu it's an otherwise unremarkable place, almost imperceptible from Anstruther, its bigger brasher neighbour. But somehow we end up there a lot, overlooking an old bathing pool staring out to sea.

The pool was once known as The Cardinal's Steps after Cardinal Beaton of St Andrews who had a seaside residence here in the 16th century. It was developed into a formal bathing pool in the 1930s by local volunteers. A postcard in St Andrews University archive shows it in its full glory with a tall diving platform and rows of bathing huts filling the space now occupied by a caravan site. What's more, there were people in it, which is something you don't see today.

Tidal bathing pools used to be common up and down the coast. Hardy souls thought nothing of taking a plunge in the North Sea. Although a few remain in use, like the famous "Trinkie" in Wick, they only tend to survive in the south of England where the weather is more forgiving. Today the pool lies broken at the bottom, crumbling at the sides and slippery round the edges. Despite a few forays round the outside to peer into the depths the pool's latest visitors - four 19th century cannons are invisible to the naked eye. These have been deposited here by St Andrew's University School of Chemistry to experiment on corrosion rates. According to their website the fact that the Cellardyke pool is intact and relatively sheltered makes it a perfect laboratory.

This puts paid to any idea of salvaging it as a swimming pool. I have seen kids in there, but wouldn't fancy sending my own in. There probably isn't much call really, now that Cellardyke is no longer the holiday destination it once was. Instead when we come we don't swim, we play in the park beside it where the swings have a lovely sea view. Failing that, we just sit and look out to sea.

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Posted by Anne on May 25, 2008 | Filed under Anne Coastal Scotland Sporty
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Lying amidst piles of rubble and high metal fencing in the Fountainbridge area of Edinburgh stands the former Fountain Brewery. A site of pilgrimage surely for all lovers of cheap lager.

The brewery was once part of the McEwan drinking empire, founded by William McEwan (1827-1913) in 1856 with money borrowed from his family. Fountainbridge was a prime location with its excellent transport links provided by the railway and Union Canal (which still runs alongside the site and provides a nice urban amble). McEwan soon established a presence in the Scottish market, before setting his sights on colonial trade. By the turn of the 20th century, a gentleman could enjoy a pint of McEwans as far and wide as Australia, South Africa or India.

The company merged with William Younger & Co Ltd to form Scottish Brewers Ltd in 1931, before that company merged with Newcastle Breweries Ltd in 1960 to form Scottish & Newcastle Breweries Ltd. This led to a thorough updating of the plant and S&N opened a new Fountain Brewery at Fountainbridge on a 22 acre site beside the Union Canal in 1973, much of which forms the remaining site today.

At its peak, the brewery produced about two million barrels per year of well-known brands such as McEwans Export, Tartan Special, Kestrel Lager, Gillespies Stout and Youngers. Quality brands. But despite the always willing domestic market for such produce, the Fountain Brewery was closed by S&N at the end of 2004 due to the fierce competition of the beer market. About 170 workers lost their jobs.

Despite this, the future of the site looks set to flourish. The Fountain North development plan has been dreamed up to remake the area into offices, housing, retail outlets and a new public park. It aims to become Edinburgh's largest regeneration site, incorporating all sorts of contemporary environmental concerns such as tree-lined boulevards, green space, pedestrian and cycle routes, family housing and underground car parking.

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Posted by Rosalyn on May 11, 2008 | Filed under Industrial Rosalyn Scotland
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The Bakelite Museum in Williton, Somerset is a museum of few words. At the entrance, a small sign introduces Bakelite "The material of a thousand uses". Invented by Dr Leo Baekeland in 1907 Bakelite was the world’s first, and most successful synthetic plastic, in continuous production ever since. If you think it's confined to old brown radios, think again. The museum, set over two floors in a 17th Century watermill is jam packed with Bakelite products of all shapes, sizes and colours.

Stepping in the door is like walking into a 1950s home. There are cookers, toasters, washing machines, and irons interspersed with smaller items like banks, clocks and egg cups. It is bright and resilient, in the spirit of the times. If the museum had ended here I would have gone home happy, but there's more. Next, a room of televisions, gramophones, radios and telephones is like a mini Design Museum. Plus a colourful display of elegant bowls and vases made from Bandalasta (also known as LingaLonga), a coloured, marbled variation of Bakelite which first saw light in 1925.

Up the steep stairs and into a little side room where I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. This is the colourful world of Bakelite egg cups, napkin rings and salt and pepper shakers, all perfectly lined up on curvaceous shelves. I shudder to think what the dusting overhead is like, but it looks wonderful.

From there you go onto hairdryers, electric heaters, hoovers and the last room with a full set of Bakelite teeth, picnic sets and the piece de resistance, a Bakelite coffin. As it was famous for its heat-resistant properties this didn't go too well at cremations and the product never took off. It is one of the many highly collectible items on show.

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Posted by Anne on April 27, 2008 | Filed under Anne England Museums
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Pity the poor Kincardine Bridge. Long since overshadowed by the more famous Forth Road and Rail Bridges, a fourth Forth crossing is about to cock its snook once and for all. For those who cross it regularly it’s not a happy place, full of traffic snarl-ups, but on a clearer day it’s a majestic part of the Scottish road network.

When it was built in 1936 it was the world's longest single span bridge as well as the first road bridge across the Firth of Forth. Built by renowned engineering firm Sir Alexander Gibb and Partners and manufactured by the Cleveland Bridge and Engineering Co., it’s a solid piece of work. Unlike its grander neighbours you don't see it from miles away, but the closer you get the better it looks. It comes into its own as soon as you start to cross. The silver art deco-style lampposts have a real elegance and shine like beacons on a sunny day. Before you know it you’re passing through the central concrete arch where the mottoes of the neighbouring counties of Clackmannan, Stirling and Fife are carved in Portland Stone. It's all rather grand.

Until 1988 a huge portcullis operated inside this gate so that the bridge could be closed to traffic. When it closed the motto of Clackmannan, "Look aboot ye" was spelt out. Good advice for anyone waiting there as the view either way along the river is rather nice. Once the barrier was in place the centre span was able to swing round to let shipping pass. Along with the nearby Silver Link Roadhouse (now a bathroom showroom) it’s a relic of a more stately era of road transportation - the motoring boom of the 1930s. Constant traffic has taken its toll so when the new crossing opens, the bridge, given Category A-listed status by Historic Scotland will be closed for 18 months for a well-deserved upgrade. Enjoy it while you can.

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Posted by Anne on April 06, 2008 | Filed under Anne Architecture Scotland Transportation
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