couple of cadillacs

August 21, 2023Leave a comment

Here are a couple of turquoise/teal Cadillacs seen in Davis last month. One of them (the one above) is usually parked in a carport across the street from me, and not super easy for me to get a look at to draw, but one day all the residents on our street had to move their vehicles so the surface could be relaid, and this was then parked out on a street near the greenbelt. So I went out with my sketchbook and drew it. It’s quite a magnificent car actually. To a kid in north London the Cadillac was like some alien ship, you would just not see them in England, only on big movie screens and on old American TV shows. I do remember seeing one though, and it was a pink one from the 70s, parked in Burnt Oak. I think it made the local news. But American cars, especially the older ones, can be massive. You’d never fit one of these down my old street. They were things of aesthetic beauty though, weren’t they? These days, cars seem to all look the same. I daresay they probably said the same thing in the 50s. There is something really satisfying about seeing magnificent old cars though. The one below, also a Cadillac and in a similar colour, was parked downtown in Davis, and so I had to do a quick outline sketch of it, drawing the details and colours in later. I drew in pencil too which was fun, trying to do that a bit more. I don’t know enough about the year of model of these (I don’t remember seeing that on the car), so if you know, let me know in the comments. I love to draw classic cars; there was a classic cars meet-up in Davis last weekend, but I never went because I was feeling a bit tired on that day, and it was hot. I should go to the California Automobile Museum again sometime.

Friday night by the Thames

August 16, 2023August 15, 2023Leave a comment

We definitely had to sleep in after getting back in the wee hours from Scotland. Exhausted, not feeling too well, and probably having withdrawals from all the Irn Bru and Tunnocks Teacakes, I didn’t have a lot of energy. However I had planned to go down into central London to attend the London Urban Sketchers Friday evening sketching meetup at Bankside, and despite my headache, I’m glad I did. It was cooler by the Thames, with a nice river breeze. I got there a bit too late for the start, so I just got my sketchbook out and started. As you can probably tell, this is Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre, with the tall tower of Tate Modern in the background. There were a lot of tourists about, enjoying the last day of June next to my favourite river. It was extremely relaxing for me to get down here and into my sketchbook. People lined up to see the latest show at the Globe; I really wish I’d had the forethought to book tickets to see something there, as I’ve never actually seen a play there, even though it opened while I was a drama student twenty-odd years ago. I remember our Places of Performance class did visit the Globe in about 1998 or 1999, when it was still a new addition to London, for a tour. During the early part of the pandemic, our family would watch full plays provided by the Globe online for small donations, filmed in the preceding years, since they were closed back in 2020 and we had no idea what would happen. So I love the Globe, but still have yet to go there properly. Some day.

I have also never been mudlarking by the Thames. The tides were low that evening, so there were quite a few people down there looking around in the silty mud and stones, looking for whatever the old Thames has dredged up. People find things that are centuries old. I sketched them in my little Fabriano, looking down from the Embankment, and then sat on the steps leading down to the River. A couple of hours later, the water was already way back up there (I presume everyone got back up before that?). The Thames is a tidal river, at London anyway, due to its proximity to the Thames Estuary which is where it meets the North Sea. So the river goes right up and down a couple of times each day.

The London Urban Sketchers met up again outside the Tate to look at each others sketchbooks. It wasn’t a huge crowd this evening, but I gather that the monthly “Let’s Draw London” sketchcrawl attendances have been so big that they have started holding them twice per month in the same location. These smaller evening events are bonus meet-ups for the summertime. I spoke to a few familiar faces, and looked through sketchbooks of some newer sketchers, and remembered how much I always enjoyed this part of urban sketching. I’d not organized or even attended a sketchcrawl in Davis or anywhere for quite a long time, so it was great to get to meet the sketchers again. I resolved to start organizing more in Davis again (and I just held one this past weekend, in fact, on a very hot mid-August morning). When we were done, I was not quite done yet. I stood beneath the Millennium Bridge (to all those tour guides who still insist that Londoners call it the ‘Wobbly Bridge’, no they don’t, do they. They did back in 2000 when it opened, and when it wobbled so much that all the high-end architects involved in its design were stumped and they closed it, but then they fixed the wobble and reopened it in early 2002. Nobody is still calling it the wobbly bridge except tour guides telling a story. And I used to be one of them, but that was in 2000 when it was actually still wobbling) . Anyway, I drew that ever-changing City of London skyline again. Every time I return, it looks different. The top of Tower 42 was decked in Pride colours. I forget the names of all these towers now, the walky-talky, the big spinach, the witch’s watering can, the flake, I honestly cant keep up with all the silly names. Call them what you want. Call the Millennium Bridge ‘the Wobbly Bridge’ if you like, it doesn’t really matter. That’s the great thing about London, names just spring up out of nothing, sometimes they stick, sometimes they don’t. Even the Thames gets a name change when flowing through Oxford, where they call it the Isis, though maybe in more hushed tones than before.

And finally, Morph. This year in London there are loads of statues of Morph, painted in a million different ways, and this one outside the Globe was as you’d expect painted to look like William Shakespeare. For those who for some reason have no idea who Morph is, Morph was a little plasticine stop-motion animated character created by Peter Lord, and appeared on the TV shows of the late Tony Hart, every kids favourite fatherly TV art figure (quickly checks online, we still think he’s ok right, no scandals there yeah? Phew, he’s fine. You never know when it comes to our 70s and 80s kids TV heroes in Britain). Tony Hart was also the only person we knew of who was named after three body parts. Morph was a national treasure though, even though he could only speak in little sounds, and he had a friend called Chas and this little brush that would follow them round like a dog. Oh, and he had a super power where he would turn himself into a kind of cylindrical tube of plasticine and ‘morph’ his way through the solid wood of a table. Having sketched Morph, the sun was finally down over the Thames, so I got a very crowded tube back home.

in search of elusive scottish creatures

August 15, 2023August 15, 20234 Comments

And so, the final leg of our Scottish adventure. We were all pretty tired by that point, I may have had all the Irn Bru I could drink, and all the Tunnocks Teacakes I could eat, but we were off to see a place we’d heard of all our lives but never imagined we would get to see – Loch Ness. And we were in search of a mysterious creature we had heard so much about, seen so many cuddly toys and fridge magnets of, yet had thus far proved elusive – the hairy Highland Coo. We left Fort William and drove up through the Great Glen, which is what we call the huge valley that cuts through Scotland and forms Loch Ness. As opposed to Great Glenn, who was one of the best passers of the ball in football history, though I wish he’d passed at recording ‘Diamond Lights’ with Chris Waddle. The roads were fairly narrow, and the speed limits great, with cars belting around those bends at 60 miles an hour. It was pretty nice though, not raining like on our trip through Loch Lomond, and we all breathed a deep breath when we first saw the great, incredibly deep Loch Ness. It’s the largest body of fresh water in the UK, and is 788 feet deep at its deepest point. The water is very dark, making it nigh impossible to see very much in front of you when beneath the surface. But no, it does not contain an ancient plesiosaur that has mysteriously survived the geological eras to confound scientists and excite tourists, that would be ridiculous. Kelpies, Selkies, Redcaps, Blue Men of The Minch, Giants, Finfolk, Bogles, Trows, Wild Haggis, all of those definitely exist, but Nessie? Please. Or does it…

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We took a boat tour out onto the Loch, in the ‘Nessie Hunter’, and our guide gave us a fun account of all the Nessie sightings, and details about the Loch. The boat was equipped with a sonar to detect things moving way beneath the surface, and he pointed out a house that has a webcam trained on the Loch 24/7, so you can go online and look at water, in the vain hope that you will see a head pop out. You’re more likely to see Messi. One of my favourite shows when I was a kid was The Family Ness, a very silly cartoon about a group of Nessies all with different personalities that befriended a couple of Scottish kids who helped them hide from the scientists. I loved the theme tune (“…but you’ll never find a Nessie in the zoo!”). Kids TV theme tunes from the 80s is be my specialist subject. Our guide told us that due to its constant movement, Loch Ness does not freeze over, but I clearly remember one episode of The Family Ness where they were ice skating on the Loch, so I don’t know. The ride was quite bumpy though, lots of waves (I presume they were waves…). We had a great view of the partly ruined Urquhart Castle, on an outcrop in the Loch. That was our next destination. After lunch of fish and chips (Scotland does the best fish and chips) in Drumnadrochit, we visited the old Urquhart Castle, which is where I did the sketch at the top of this post. (I have also drawn it once before, on my Google Street View Tour of Great Britain, during the pandemic). That was a super interesting place with amazing views over the water, and hundreds of years of history. While I sketched, my wife and son had a delicious afternoon tea overlooking the scenery.

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We were flying out of Inverness that night, but we still had one more mission – to find the Highland Coo. That’s a very hairy type of cow with long horns that they have up here, but we still had not seen them. So we found a little guest house and tea room that purportedly had some on their grounds, and after buying some cakes, they let us go and take a look at them. Lovely big beasts they are. We found some more hairy cows a bit further up the Loch, they reminded me a bit of that big creature Ludo from the film Labyrinth. Unfortunately, we had to get going. We drove to Inverness, sat in very slow traffic a couple of times, popped into a gigantic Tesco to buy a sandwich and one last Irn Bru, tried to figure out how to drop the car off, and then flew a very late night Easyjet flight from Inverness to Luton (less said about Luton, and our journey back from there, the better), utterly exhausted. There was no time to visit Culloden on this trip, but this won’t be our last trip to Scotland. There’s so much more to see, more castles to visit, more Lochs and Islands to explore, more trains to catch, and so many more Tunnocks Teacakes to eat. Slàinte Mhath!

just fort william

August 13, 2023August 18, 20232 Comments

We arrived in Fort William, parked our rental car on a very steep slope, and checked into our hotel. I think I’d imagined it to be a bit nicer, like some cosy guest house, but it wasn’t, it seemed furnished like an old office building, and was spartan to say the least. There was a sizeable colony of mould on the ceiling. The shower in our tiny bathroom was also unbearably hot to the touch, and would not go any colder than the insides of a new McDonalds apple pie (which if you’ve ever had one of those, you’ll know why it says “caution: HOT” on the sleeve). We had the front desk staff come up to see if it could be fixed, and they fiddled about and turned it on, to the same temperature, and touching it momentarily with their finger they said they thought it was fine. It definitely wasn’t. So no showers on this two night stay, unless you want to be scalded. So I dubbed the hotel “Faulty Showers”, and now I can’t remember the actual name, so it’s just Faulty Showers. The view from the bedroom was nice, overlooking the hills and the church of St. Andrews. We were in Fort William because (a) we were going on a very special trip on the Jacobite Steam Train the next day, and (b) this is really the best place to stay to explore the Highlands, being the biggest town for quite a way. I didn’t really warm to Fort William as a town. Great connections, some good shops (it had a good Tesco Metro close to our hotel, for sandwiches and supplies – ie, Irn Bru and Tunnocks Teacakes, which we brought onto the Jacobite with us). Dinner options were a little limited, because this being the main hiking and Highlands hub it’s where everyone stays, so they all go out for dinner at the same time, and food is expensive. One place we saw it was eighteen quid for a burger. We had a decent Indian meal on our first evening there; I was surprised to see “Haggis Naan” on the menu; I don’t even know how that works. The pubs didn’t look as inviting as I’d have expected, the best one looked like the Ben Nevis, but on this evening it didn’t exactly exude the Highland pub atmosphere I’d imagined, mostly tired hikers and tables of empty glasses, while some of the other pubs on the main pedestrianized drag seemed a little bit, well, ‘English lager lad’, doorways spilling with middle-aged English men and women aggressively smoking and vaping and swearing, so I gave them a miss. Around the rest of the town centre, teenage youths ambled up and down with an air of boredom, and hikers tiredly made their way in small crowds to whatever expensively priced and cheaply run hotel they were pitstopping at. This is the end of the Great Highland Way, but also the start of the Great Glen Way which goes up by Loch Ness, and of course it’s right at the foot of Ben Nevis, Britain’s highest mountain, which was completely shrouded from view by Scottish mist. the sketch I did above, early in the morning, was the Memorial to Donald Cameron of Lochiel, with the Duncansburgh Church behind it. As I sketched, a man passed by walking back to his hotel and said to me (in a southern English accent), “It would be quicker to take a photograph you know,” and just walked on. Something in his tone was so dismissive, it irked me. I just glared nonplussed as he hiked off towards his hotel, but in my mind I thought, “ooh, you’re my enemy now.”

Still, what a view over Loch Linnhe at sunset. After our day on the Jacobite, and after dinner (which due to the lack of available options at the time we ate at the Wetherspoons, not exactly my first choice, but it tasted fine), I decided not to go back to Faulty Showers and stayed out sketching. Sunset here is even later than in Glasgow, and it wasn’t raining, so I sat by the Loch which was pretty peaceful and drew the lovely colours. We really were on the other side of the world now, it felt like. Even though I’m from Britain, for a Londoner this feels like a million miles from home, let alone for a Californian. The Highlands really are lovely, and there’s so much of it to explore, we were only seeing a little bit. Satisfied with my sketch, I turned around and drew the scene behind me, the Highland Hotel. Perhaps a tad nicer (and a wee bit more expensive) than Faulty Showers, this looks like the place to be. It was the sunset-kissed clouds that drew me in though. And I am sure Ben Nevis is around there somewhere, but he wasn’t showing his face. I went back to our hotel and went to be (after watching with my son a few sketches from the old mostly-Scottish sketch show from the early 90s, ‘Absolutely’, which I used to love, because the ‘Stonybridge’ sketches had popped into my head while we were driving north the day before).

There was a really nice bookshop in Fort William though that we spent a bit of time in, and got some lovely prints. I nearly got a book to teach myself how to speak Gaelic, but I know I’m probably not going to do that, unless I take a class. It’s a lovely language though, and you will see it on so many road signs up here. Fort William is called An Gearasdan in Gaelic, and about 7% or so of the population speak it. While this is the main town for this part of the Highlands, it was built to, you know, put the Highlands people down. Originally established by Oliver Cromwell to keep the local Clan Cameron in line, it was later named Fort William after King William III who built the fort to control the local Highlands clans, who over the next century would rise up in Jacobite rebellion several times. We heard a lot about the Jacobites during this part of the trip. There was also a really nice visitor centre in Fort William where I got some postcards, magnets, tea coasters, because I am a tourist and you can never have too many of those.

I did get up early on our last morning there and draw the church of St. Andrews, which was close to Faulty Showers. The gateway was so pretty and covered in moss, which I didn’t end up colouring in, and the kirkyard had a lot of character (and probably a lot of characters). I was up to get some nice pastries (and Tunnocks Teacakes) from the little Tesco. I was also, if I’m honest, kind of hoping to see that English guy who had made the irksome comment the morning before. I’m not saying I had spent a lot of the day thinking of what my comeback should have been, like George Costanza (like “yeah, well the jerk store called, and they said it would be quicker for you to just bugger off mate”, yeah not that good really) but I was perfecting my dirty look. He was probably already halfway up Ben Nevis by now. At which point I thought, ooh I should walk past him trying to climb Ben Nevis, all out of breath and red-faced, and say, “it would be quicker for you to take a photo!” or something similarly witty. However that wouldn’t be true, because Ben Nevis just would not show itself to us, hiding behind all that mist. Rather than wait for the mist to clear, I determined it would be quicker to look at a picture of Ben Nevis on Wikipedia, and we left Fort William and its faulty showers behind us.

raining champions

August 12, 2023August 12, 2023Leave a comment

It’s going to rain in Scotland. It’s Scotland, not Arizona. Of course, it didn’t have to rain quite so much on the very day we hired the car and drove north from Glasgow, past the mighty Loch Lomond and the Trossachs, over wild Rannoch Moor and through the awe-inspiring Glencoe, on to Fort William at the foot of Ben Nevis (which we never actually saw, it was so shrouded in cloud). We never saw most of these lovely scenes because the rain was very thick, but we did our best and still explored. We first stopped bu the shores of Loch Lomond at the pretty little village of Luss, and stood looking out at the greyness, unable to see the other side. I came to Loch Lomond once before, in 1999 with my friend Simon and his uncle who drove a Jaguar, and can vouch that it is beautiful here. So, we continued through the rain along the shores, going north up to the Falls of Falloch. I had warned my wife before our tip to Scotland that we had to be aware of Scotland’s biggest menace – the Midge. Being from the south of England, we don’t get them, but I remember camping in Cumbria when I was 17 and everyone was being constantly eaten alive by the things. Tiny little fly creatures that bite you to pieces. We watched videos of people walking around the Highlands dressed in nets, we bought loads of midge-repellant, we checked the Midge Forecast online. Yet in the whole trip, the only time we encountered the Midge was at the Falls of Falloch, and they didn’t really get us at all. We got lucky, maybe, or the Midges know not to mess with me. The Falls of Falloch are lovely, and it was raining, but I tried to grab a sketch of them. As you can see my Fabriano sketchbook is splotched with raindrops. If you look closely though, you can see the remains of one dead Midge. See you later, sucker.

After a brief stop for lunch at a pub in Crianlarich, just beating the rush of hikers making their way up the West Highland Way (some day! There’s a lot of hiking I want to do in Scotland, some day), we continued our drive north through the rain. We crossed the boggy Rannoch Moor, one of the largest wildernesses in Britain, which I’d been eager to see. We couldn’t see very far. It wasn’t too long before we arrived at the main attraction, Glencoe. Or Glen Coe, as it’s usually written, Gleann Comhann in Gaelic. Even in the gloomy rain it was breathtaking scenery. We stopped a few times for photos and to take in the sheer Scotland-ness of it all. I’ve heard so much about Glen Coe since I was a kid, and its tragic history with the Glencoe Massacre of 1692, and its geology, the work of ice age glaciers carving through ancient volcanic rock. Scotland looks very different from England, and this is because geologically they are not from the same place, but collided together millions of years ago, Scotland originally being part of the same landmass that is now North America. Of course I had to at least attempt a sketch. I had it in mind that I would come up here and do sketches like Richard Bell in that book of his that I love, but the weather had other ideas. I even tucked my umbrella into my jacket to attempt some shelter, to no avail, I couldn’t look upwards and the wind and rain just laughed in my face. I drew the panorama above, of the Three Sisters, and decided to just leave it like that, rain splotches making my watercolouring impossible. It was a brave effort. Sometimes what comes out in these moments says more about your time than trying to draw it later. I drew another quick pencil sketch a little way up the road, adding a quick grey wash afterwards, but otherwise enjoyed what scenery we could. We visited the Glen Coe visitor centre, saw their little film about Glen Coe, went into the reconstructed turf hut, and bought stuff in the gift shop. And then we drove on through more dramatic, wet countryside, to our next port of call, Fort William. We were going on the famous Jacobite Steam Train…

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he’s one of our own

August 12, 2023Leave a comment

Well, Harry’s gone. After many years of memorable moments, Harry Kane, who just turned 30, has moved on from Spurs, where he’s been since he was 11, for a new challenge in Germany at Bayern Munich. I’m sad, but that’s football, and he was one of our greatest. I would write a whole thing here about Kane and all the other Spurs greats I’ve loved over the years, how I feel about this transfer (he gave us everything, all of his 20s, we have to give him this) and about football in general (as I write, Arsenal are winning), but I’m not really in the mood, it’s too soon. I saw Harry’s goodbye video earlier, and I just watched the England Women’s Team beat Colombia, and now I’m going for a run. But Harry Kane, forever one of our own (as was Glenn Hoddle when he went to Monaco), good luck in this next adventure, and we’ll see you again some day. Come on you Spurs.

kelvingrove and the west end

August 11, 2023August 10, 20231 Comment

We took the bus over to the Kelvingrove neighbourhood, in Glasgow’s west end, to see the famous Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum. It’s free to go inside, and was a fun (if slightly eccentrically organized) journey through art, design, culture and natural history. The building is beautiful, dating to the end of the Victorian age, beside the large and leafy Kelvingrove Park. Next to the Museum there are lawn bowling greens, build for the Commonwealth Games, that I had seen in Belle and Sebastian’s guide to Glasgow (on YouTube), I guess they come and bowl here from time to time. I think they were playing in Belgium that day so unlikely I’d bump into any of them. Inside there are loads of things to draw, but I wasn’t really going to draw much (the above was mostly an outline with everything else drawn when I got back to the hotel; it was on-off raining that morning). I did however have to spend the time sketching the dinosaur you see below, a Ceratosaurus from Wyoming. They did apparently live in Scotland though, I can’t imagine how I’d feel if this thing turned on me and said “hey what you lookin’ at pal?” in a Glaswegian growl. Probably very scared. That’s my son in the background looking around while I drew.

I really enjoyed the strange floating heads installation in the East Court, by Sophie Cave. I did start drawing the Spitfire that was suspended above us, but didn’t want to hang about too long so gave up. There were some lovely paintings, including a really great Lowrie, and a bunch of pieces by Mackintosh, but I think most of all I liked the big Elvis sculpture, “Return to Sender” by Sean Reed. I thought he was taking a selfie, so I joined in. Fun fact, we were married by an Elvis in Las Vegas.

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The leafy park was a pleasant walk, and we headed past Glasgow University. This would have been a nice place to study. We were hungry for lunch and so headed to the shops in the west end. I was looking for a couple of guitar shops though, where my son and I spent a nice bit of time looking at guitars. The first was CC Music, on Otago Street, they were very friendly in there and I chatted with the guy about California while my son tried instruments. He’s getting really into the guitar now, having first been playing the ukulele. We then went to Jimmy Egypt & Son’s on Great Western Road, a great little shop, where I bought a cool new guitar strap (unfortunately no guitar purchases, not as easy carrying back to the US). We lunched at a great little burger place called Brgr, then walked about the cool little shops. It reminded us a bit of Muswell Hill. We didn’t go to the Botanical Gardens, but we did pass through the university again on the way back to the bus stop. By the way, the dates on all these sketches are wrong, it says 6/25/23 when actually it was the 26th, not sure why I did that. Anyway, since I was in Britain I should have written 26/6/23, but I’m Americanized now ain’t I.

This was not in the west end, but back in central Glasgow on St. Vincent Street. While the family rested at the hotel, I went out drawing for a while, and for some reason I really liked these roofs. This reddish sandstone is emblematic of much of Glasgow’s architecture, such as the old Evening Citizen offices further down in St. Vincent Place (I wish I’d drawn that building), and of course in Kelvingrove Art Museum. The sky was nice, blue with moving clouds, and as I sketched lots of Metallica fans kept walking past, in their Metallica t-shirts. I supposed Metallica must have been playing somewhere. Actually now I think of it, it was Iron Maiden, not Metallica. I always get those confused. Wait was it Def Leppard? No, it was definitely Iron Maiden. Yes, loads of Iron Maiden fans walking past, in their Iron Maiden t-shirts. I can’t believe I got that wrong, actually. I was in my Belle and Sebastian t-shirt (maybe it Camera Obscura? I’m so forgetful). Not that I felt uncomfortable, it’s not like I was in an Ireland shirt while watching the Orange Order march past. Iron Maiden fans are pretty friendly in my experience, back in the 90s when I would go to heavy metal clubs in London, they were usually the nicest places to be at night. Anyway I thought about going to draw an old Glasgow pub, and nearly sketched a big old place called the Horseshoe, but it was getting on for dinner time. I forget what we ate, some Scottish fast food thing, but we did afterwards finally try that classic delicacy, Deep Fried Mars Bar. It was actually amazing, and even thinking of it now, I want another. Maybe not super healthy, but you don’t come to Scotland to eat super healthy. With that in mind, we retired to the hotel for more Tunnocks Tea Cakes, washed down with Irn Bru. Here’s my drawing of one of those delicious little beauties.

Next up, we drove north, through rain and country. I would like to revisit Glasgow some day, wander about a bit more, chat with some locals in the pub, climb a few more hills, see some music. Another day.

“I belong to Glasgow”

August 10, 2023August 10, 20232 Comments

It rained hard on the train journey to Glasgow. I suppose you don’t come to Scotland for the sun. We passed by Falkirk, a place I’d like to have seen, mostly for the huge Kelpies. We arrived at Queen Street and the rain stopped for long enough to let us walk up hill to our hotel, further than it looked on the map. We sat in the hotel lounge watching the driving rain outside, eating those little Tunnocks marshmallow Teacakes I love so much, strumming on the ukulele. I could tell my family were maybe a little less wowed by Glasgow than by Edinburgh, but I’d been waiting most of my life to come and have a look around here, rain or not. I went for a little walk as the rain eased off a bit; we weren’t far from the Art School, but after the big fire they had a few years back, it’s still covered in this big white plastic while it’s being remodeled. Glasgow’s an artist’s town though, that is clear. Charles Rennie Mackintosh is the big name here, but he’s not the only one. Musically too, Glasgow is a creative city, and one of my favourite bands of all time are from here, Belle and Sebastian. I’ve always wanted to come here and explore.

I wandered about a little, and then I heard some music, it sounded like flutes and drums. Marching up the road were the men and women of the Orange Order, decked out in their suits and their orange sashes with their big orange and purple banners, lads in Rangers shirts flanking them, as well as police clearing the road for them. I was glad I wasn’t in my Celtic shirt, nor my Ireland shirt. I had heard about the Orange Marches since I was a kid of course, the ones in Northern Ireland at least, usually in the backdrop of some news story, and I had forgotten that Marching Season was starting. I knew from my mum that it was big in Glasgow (she spent some time in Glasgow as a kid, I think some of our Ulster family lived up here), and of course I’m well aware of Rangers and Celtic and the whole sectarian thing. Still, I was actually surprised to see them in person. I did see them marching the day before in Edinburgh actually, going up the Royal Mile in the morning with their flutes, playing “The Sash Me Father Wore” (I am sure they have other tunes, that’s the only one I know). It didn’t seem as big (though I saw coachloads of other men in orange sashes arrive a bit later), and was certainly dwarfed by the huge Pride marches that were happening on the same day in Edinburgh. The Glasgow march seemed to go on for a long way. I got a quick sketch done, and went and looked at something else.

When the rain had stopped and we were filled up on delicious fish and chips (washed down with more Irn Bru of course) we walked about the city centre. The pedestrianized Sauchiehall Lane looked like it had seen better days, and could have done with a little less of those food delivery bikes careening down them, a scourge in many cities now. But I liked the city centre, and while looking at our map a young lad came up and said “you look lost, can I help youse find something?” This it turns out was a feature of Glasgow – the people are just willing to give you a hand, this happened several times. We explored the George Square area and found that statue of the Duke of Wellington on his horse with the traffic cone on its head, outside the Gallery of Modern Art. I have seen this before on my one super brief stop in Glasgow, in 1999, and its the only thing I remember. It’s a Glaswegian tradition to put a cone on the head of the Iron Duke. Incredibly they have tried to stop people doing it, yet the cone is way more famous than the statue without the cone. We took a bus out towards Glasgow Cathedral, and on the way an elderly fellow had overheard us tell the driver where we were going, and was giving us directions in that thick Glaswegian accent that I love hearing so much. Honestly, it’s always been my favourite accent. My best friend when I was 12 was from Glasgow, Ralph, I think we became friends largely because I actually tried to understand him, but as a result of his influence at a formative age I do slip into a kind of Scottish pronunciation of certain words when I hear the accent again. I also watched maybe too much Rab C. Nesbitt as a kid as well. It was Ralph who got me interested in the guitar, and we were both big Beatles fans; I remember we talked about starting a band called The Flies, and eventually I got a cheap pretty crap acoustic for a fiver at a car boot sale, and learned my first chords (and also taught myself how to string a guitar). Anyway, we got off the bus and followed the old man’s helpful directions to the cathedral, known as St. Mungo’s Cathedral, and also the High Kirk of Glasgow (I’m not sure if it’s technically a cathedral, as we learned with St.Giles in Edinburgh, but it calls itself cathedral and it looks like one and that’s good enough for me). The cathedral was not actually where we wanted to go. We were looking for the Necropolis, which is a large cemetery at the top of a steep hill behind the cathedral with amazing views over the city. See my sketch at the top of the post, that was from there. The views were remarkable, you could see Celtic Park stadium, but we didn’t linger too long. In terms of location, I think it’s up there with my favourite cemeteries, and I was even more pleased to find the grave of William Miller, the guy who write Wee Willie Winkie. I took this photo of an ivy-covered memorial to a young lad named John Ronald Ker, who in 1867 had drowned while shooting wild fowl from his boat at the age of 21, and this monument was erected by his friends and family in his memory. It’s a beautiful celtic cross, and a sad story.

After the Necropolis, we bussed it back to the hotel and relaxed for the rest of the night, eating more Tunnocks Teacakes. More Glasgow sketches to come.

Let’s Draw Davis – August 2023

August 9, 2023August 8, 2023Leave a comment

Before we continue with our Scottish adventure, I just wanted to let you know (those who live in or near Davis anyway) that I will be organizing a sketchcrawl this Saturday, August 12, in downtown Davis. I’ve been organizing sketchcrawl / sketching events called “Let’s Draw Davis” since October 2010, on and off; I’ve had a fair amount of time off, for one reason or other, in the past few years, and I actually can’t completely remember when the last one I organized actually was. A couple of years I think. I didn’t organize any while I was coaching that first season of AYSO United club soccer, and then after I stepped down as coach I still spent a lot of my weekends watching my son’s games, and just didn’t get around to setting any sketching events up. I got a bit shy. Fortunately, other urban sketchers in Davis (Marlene Lee mostly) have been running Let’s Draw Davis as monthly meetings, often on Sundays in Central Park, and the Facebook group seems to have been pretty active. (‘Facebook’, something else I hadn’t looked at for years). Well, I had a free Saturday coming up and decided that now would be a good time for me to start getting out there again. I met up one evening in London while I was back with the London Urban Sketchers, and that was really nice, looking at everyone’s sketchbooks at the end. I’m hoping to take more of an active part in these again, and will try to organize one in October for the new UC Davis school year too. This weekend though, in this hot summertime, we’ll have a morning sketchcrawl in the shady courtyards downtown. It’s summer so we may not et a lot of people, but if you fancy joining us for a bit of sketching, do come along.

DATE: Saturday August 12
TIME: 10:30am (start) – 1:00pm (finish)
LOCATION: Orange Court, E Street (start and finish at the same location)
FB EVENT PAGE: www.facebook.com/events/157365444045831

We will meet at 10:30am at Orange Court (129 E St), and then you can sketch about this part of downtown (by yourself or in a group as you prefer), before meeting up again at 1:00pm back in Orange Court to take a look at our sketchbooks.

All ages/levels are welcome, this is a fun informal way to meet other sketchers and take a look at our town through our sketchbooks. All you need is something to draw with and something to draw on. (And maybe something cold to drink in this hot summer weather…)

Maybe we’ll see you there?

“Bloody MacKenzie, Turn the Key!”

August 8, 2023August 8, 20236 Comments

A must-see spot in Edinburgh for ghost hunters (or ghost hunted?) is Greyfriars Kirkyard. I went there twice. The second time was early on our final morning in the city, when I got up and walked across the old town until I reached the statue of Greyfriars Bobby, outside the Greyfriars Bobby pub. If I had heard of Greyfriars Bobby before, I don’t remember it, but I probably assumed he was some sort of policeman, maybe one that wandered the spooky graveyard in the foggy night looking out for graverobbers and ghouls. No, it turns out Greyfriars Bobby is a dog, a wee little pooch, and Disney even made a film about him. The story goes that the wee Bobby was the dog of a local policeman, a little Skye Terrier who was so loyal to his master that when the man died and was buried in the kirkyard around Greyfriars Kirk, Bobby would guard his grave every night for about fourteen years. Greyfriars Bobby, as he became known locally, eventually died in January of 1872 (thereby missing the first ever Scotland v England international football match by eleven months). Such was Bobby’s celebrity, a small fountain was commissioned by Lady Burdett-Coutts, president of the Ladies Committee of the RSPCA, topped with a little statue of Bobby sculpted by William Brodie. It was unveiled in November 1873 (almost exactly a year since that first Scotland v England international football match, which ended 0-0 by the way). I had to add Bobby to my sketchbook, and I added the eponymous pub in the background so that you know his name (the pub I think came later, and in those days they did not show international football on TVs in pubs, due to the lack of international football, plus the lack of TVs what with them not being invented, though a Scotsman would later fix that too). You will notice that Bobby has a very shiny nose. If you ever saw him you might even say it glows. This is because of a very silly tradition that tourists have, perhaps told by silly guides in years gone by, that if you touch Bobby’s nose you will have good luck, because (and you have to say this in a Scottish accent) obviously that makes loads of fuckin’ sense, doesn’t it. The problem has got so bad that the statue is in danger of being permanently damaged, so locals have taken to making up stories of bad luck that will befall people that rub Bobby’s nose, and those stories I might actually believe. One thing we do not want is for Bobby’s nose to come off, because the absolute last thing Edinburgh needs are endless jokes from its tour guides about how Edinburgh’s dog has no nose, “how does it smell?”, “reeky!”, etc and so on. So people please, leave wee Bobby’s nose alone.

Speaking of tours, the first visit we had to spooky Greyfriars was the very night before, when we took the ‘City of the Dead’ walking tour. This started outside St. Giles Cathedral on the Royal Mile, I sketched the little scene above while we awaited our tour group to assemble. We were met by our guide, a man dressed all in theatrical black with a spooky hat adorned with black flowers and crow’s wings,, round glasses, charcoal coloured paint around the eyes, and unnerving milky-white lenses in his eyes. He reminded me at first of the Crow Man from Worzel Gummidge, but with his white beard he also looked a bit like Terry Pratchett. He gave us an illustrative tour of the old town, full of ghosts yes but mostly full of bodies. Some of the stories were long, detailed and very gruesome, especially those concerning the infamous Old Tolbooth. We then moved through the city towards Greyfriars Kirkyard. It was not yet dark – it’s late June in Scotland, no chance – so we didn’t feel completely spooked out yet. Still the light was getting gloomy and the Kirkyard, packed with weatherworn graves, gnarly trees and mossy old monuments, was the perfect stage for this storytelling. It was also full of other guided tour groups, many from the Harry Potter realm. Greyfriars was a favourite thinking spot for JK Rowling as she came up with ideas for the Potter books, and she would write in a cafe just up the road from here. Many of the graves have names familiar to Potter fans, such as McGonagall (who was actually a poet, apparently a very bad one), James Potter, and the one everyone comes to see, Tom Riddle. It’s actually ‘Thomas Riddell’ but that’s close enough. On our tour, however, we were in for a very ‘real’ bit of spookiness. We were here for the infamous poltergeist, Bloody MacKenzie.

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George MacKenzie, aka ‘Bloody’ MacKenzie, was the enforcer of King Charles II’s punishment and persecution of the Covenanters in the late 1600s. He imprisoned about 1200 Covenanters – Presbyterians who supported the National Covenant in Scotland resisting Charles I’s changes to the Scottish Kirk – in a little field next to Greyfriars Kirkyard, in terrible cramped conditions, with so many either starving to death or being executed that George MacKenzie gained that ‘Bloody’ (or ‘Bluidy’ in Scots) nickname. MacKenzie died in 1691 in Westminster, but he was ultimately buried at a mausoleum right here in Greyfriars, mere feet away from where so many of his victims were imprisoned. Now here’s the thing. His ghost is not only said to haunt this place, but it’s been well documented in recent times. I won’t tell all the stories here, but a lot of people have encountered the dreaded MacKenzie Poltergeist. As our guide told us (after locking us into the ‘Covenanters Prison’ area; only official guides can access this part), many people have encountered this spirit, often feeling a strange presence or the sense of being attacked, or getting home the next day and discovering strange scratches on their body. It was getting gloomy when we entered one of the more sinister feeling tombs, where at the end of the 1990s a homeless man apparently encountered the restless spirit and started a new wave of hauntings. Our guide told us his tales. As he did, an American lady stood at the back of the tomb was becoming increasingly freaked out, interrupting him every minute or so to say that she felt something pressing down on her forehead, as if being pushed back. I thought she was going to faint. While I like the stories, I don’t really believe in ghosts being actually ‘real’ (though I will get shivers down my spine and feel very creeped out), but she certainly did and it was real enough for her. Our guide did a good job though not to freak her out more, but he performed a parlor trick to show us that Bloody MacKenzie can at least turn a huge iron key that was placed in the palm of his hand, making us all recite “Bloody MacKenzie! Turn the Key!” in the dim light while watching this key magically turn of its own accord. It was entertaining; as the guide said at the end, that’s just a wee bit of fun. Still, the American lady was sticking with this ghost tale. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed suddenly. “Does anyone have any AirPods on right now?” Um, no I don’t think so, people mumbled. “Some AirPods have just tried to connect to my iPhone! This has never happened before. That’s so weird. What’s causing that? Is anyone else having this happen?” We were in a literal tomb at night. “Well the poltergeist can sometimes have an effect on electronics,” our guide said reassuringly. The lady was utterly convinced, Bloody MacKenzie was trying to connect his Bloody AirPods to her iPhone. As I wondered what music he might make her listen to, the theme from Rentaghost just popped into my head, mysteriously. (There was a Scottish ghost in Rentaghost too wasn’t there, Hazel McWitch?) It was a fun evening of spooky stories, and it was dark when we walked back to our apartment, our last night in Edinburgh.

So I woke up next morning and came back to Greyfriars, drawing Bobby, and then coming in to explore in the damp morning light. Of course I had to draw MacKenzie’s mausoleum. I wasn’t too worried about being attacked by a poltergeist, or getting mysterious scratches on my arms, or even of having random bagpipe music commandeer my AirPods, though I was a bit nervous of getting eaten by midges, the biggest terror in Scotland as everyone knows. I drew the tomb safe from any supernatural danger, and went home for our final Edinburgh breakfast. We were off to Glasgow that day.