The big 50 had finally arrived. Half a century on this planet. How did that happen? Not being one for celebratory gatherings, I had planned to take the train down to York with Nicole on a Friday afternoon after work (my birthday falling on the Saturday) for a two-night stay in the ancient city. That would give me ample opportunity to walk the historic walls, visit a couple of museums, enjoy a few pints in a Victorian pub, find a traditional bookshop and basically spend a couple of days indulging myself in some of my main interests. The search for accommodation was tricky as the prices in the city centre were astronomical. It looked as if a hostel might be the most practical option.
I continued looking and found a bed & breakfast property on Booking.com, just over a mile from the railway station at a reasonable price. Perfect, or so I thought. Despite the accommodation being listed as "pay upon arrival" - a text message demanding an upfront remittance came through almost immediately. It seemed a brash way of doing business and I discretely cancelled the booking and decided to try my luck elsewhere. I did eventually make another reservation via Air B&B but in the meantime, I received an email from Booking.com, requesting feedback on a potentially fraudulent listing. My intuition may well have been right. Perhaps there are chancers who manage to advertise a property they don't own, in order to set up a few phantom reservations before disappearing with the loot. Had I not been wary, we could well have turned up at an address in York in darkness, only to be told there was no room at the inn. Out of pocket with nowhere to go. I counted my blessings that I'd had a lucky escape and hoped the conman had been traced. As the trip grew nearer there was an issue with the weather forecast - it was quite frankly appalling. Driving wind and rain with rumours of a big storm brewing. That seemed like no fun and I began to get cold feet. I bailed out the day before we were due to leave and on the Friday at work I learned a rare red-weather warning had been declared. Basically this means stay indoors. Train services between Scotland and England were being cancelled which immediately opened up the prospect of a refund. I had purchased the cheap advance tickets on a use it or lose it basis, but if you are physically unable to travel then a reimbursement is due, for one leg at least. I successfully pulled out of the Air B&B arrangement before the point where I lost all entitlement of a refund and was happy to accept half of my money back. A few strips of silver lining lay inside the cloud. A replacement trip to the East Lothian coastal town North Berwick was hastily arranged. It was expected to be blustery - but thankfully dry - on the Saturday in Scotland but there was no advice against venturing outdoors. North Berwick was I place I'd wanted to visit in any case. The Seabird Centre had been upgraded since I was last there in 2005 and I'd also heard about the quirky selection of shops on the High Street. The town is overlooked by a volcanic plug called the Law and a recent hike to the top had rekindled my interest in the town. On that particular day I only had time for a quick assault on the hill before heading back home.
We drove round the Edinburgh by-pass and joined the A1 before branching off to the coast. As you approach North Berwick, the horizon is dominated by the looming form of the Bass Rock. 351 feet tall at it's highest point, the rock is home to the world's largest colony of northern gannets. I often see these aerodynamic white birds diving headlong in the sea from a great height in coastal locations as they attempt to catch fish. An estimated 150,000 gannets throng the rock and from a distance it looks like it's coated in white icing when the birds are in residence. People often assume this is due to a coating of droppings, but it's actually the gannets themselves that produce the effect. We found a parking spot in the town centre and made the short walk to the Seabird Centre. I had secured a half-price deal online, no doubt due to the fact that there aren't any seabirds around at this time of year. The centre was opened in 2000 and bankrolled by the Millennium Fund. Boat trips operate from Easter to October and take you round the Bass Rock and the island of Craigleith. Braver souls can take a RIB (rigid inflatable boat) to the more distant Isle of May, while the most expensive option is a package that includes a landing pass for the Bass Rock. We wouldn't be doing any of that today of course. Even if it had been sailing season, the heavy swell and crashing waves would surely have dictated all boats be tied up until things calmed down. The Seabird Centre sits adjacent to the old North Berwick outdoor swimming pool - closed in 1996. The facility has now been largely filled in and is used as a docking area for small craft. We checked in at the reception and wandered downstairs to the basement exhibition area. It quickly became apparent an advance booking hadn't been necessary as there were precisely zero other visitors. This provided the advantage of having the staff focus their attention on us and we were given a friendly welcome and had all our questions answered. I particularly liked the display of seabird eggs in a glass case (pictured below) and the migration story housed within a sloping illuminated tunnel. As expected, there was a lot of information about conservation projects and the creeping effects of climate change. Another highlight was the virtual reality chamber, where a staff member placed a helmet over my head and instructed me how to explore the replica of the local environment I'd be immersed in. Bowing your head took you underwater to swim among the marine life. It wasn't possible to examine the real Bass Rock from close quarters today but this was the next best thing.
I was more than happy with the overall content of the exhibition space and would happily have paid full price! We headed upstairs to the café which was filling up with people. The glass walls provided excellent sea views as we ate our lunch and I should imagine it's a popular spot among locals looking to treat themselves, especially on the outdoor terrace, which was off-limits today. Afterwards I browsed the shop and bought the obligatory stack of postcards. Wildlife and coastal images are popular requests on Postcrossing profiles. Nicole purchased a puffin mug that had leapt out at her from the shelf. I'm a firm believer in going ahead and buying the object when that happens, provided it's comfortably affordable. We exited the building and took a bracing walk along to the harbour where we observed mighty waves crashing on the shore. North Berwick is a Royal Burgh and became a fashionable holiday and golfing resort for Edinburgh people in Victorian times - no doubt due to the opening of the branch railway in 1850. British Rail proposed closure in the 1960s - a tough time for railways, particularly short branch lines - but the Minister of Transport refused consent and the line survives to the present day, undergoing electrification in the early 90s. Rather farcical when you consider the trunk route from Edinburgh to Carlisle via the Scottish Borders was dismantled a few months after North Berwick's reprieve. Perhaps it was a politically sensitive area at the time. The lengthy rural line through the heart of Wales has the ultimate insurance policy, snaking through seven marginal constituencies! It was time to explore the High Street and I had already heard there were a number of quirky shops to browse. My previous trip to the town (other than the quick climb up the Law) had been back in 2005, the first Monday in May to be precise and it was the day before I got the keys to my current house. Being a bank holiday, the place thronged with day trippers and I had basically travelled in order to ride on the branch line and grab a few leisurely pints of real ale. The fist part of the plan went smoothly enough but the pubs were heaving and I decamped to the Seabird Centre in search of a quieter environment. My knowledge of birds at the time was less than rudimentary and I dimly recall looking at the Bass Rock through the supplied scopes. No real idea what I was looking at.
Nicole spotted a cute woolly hat in a shop window and we went inside. It turned out to be a most interesting emporium with a range of local artwork and impressive selection of books. Just the sort of place I cannot resist supporting, as the world would be much poorer without this type of business. I picked up a thriller that sounded exciting and handed over a tenner. The High Street features a large number of independent traders and there must be a thriving painting scene as there were several small art galleries serving this tiny town. After walking up and down the full length of the main drag, we said goodbye to North Berwick but I am planning to bring my mum down sometime. She hasn't been here since my folks lived up the road in Tranent, before returning over the water to their home county of Fife in 1976! We had noticed Dirleton Castle on the way in and I fancied stopping for a look around the grounds. As it happened, the main building was still closed due to the pandemic but we were free to have a wander around the surrounding gardens. This magnificent fortress and residence served three successive noble families over 400 years. Badly damaged in Cromwell’s 1650 siege, Dirleton’s fortunes were revived by its new owners in the 1660s. The Nisbet family built a new mansion house nearby and incorporated the picturesque castle ruins as the central feature in their new designed leisure landscape. This development breathed new life into the splendid gardens, now home to the world’s longest herbaceous border. We had a nose around and there was sufficient strength in the sun to provide a nice lighting effect for photos. We hopped back into the car and took the coastal route towards Edinburgh, passing through Gullane and Aberlady - pausing at the latter for a view across the the vast bay. To avoid driving into the city centre, we pulled in a Ingliston Park & Ride which has a tram platform. I've only used the trams on a handful of occasion since their reintroduction in 2014. Normally, I take the train or bus from Fife straight into the heart of the city. The street cars seem to work efficiently and a range of tickets are available. We paid £6.80 for two day returns. It is a bit cheeky to charge £1.80 for a single anywhere in the City Zone but bump this up to £4.50 if you begin or end your journey at the airport, particularly when it's an easy walk from the penultimate stop to the terminal. Many tourists won't know this and may already be burdened with luggage.
Alighting on Princes Street, our destination was Yes Sushi on Hanover Street, more or less opposite the flat where my great gran lived out her last years. We had eaten in this restaurant a few times before and had always gone for the buffet option. You have to ask for this as it's on a separate menu not readily proffered upon arrival. However our usual tactic didn't work on this occasion as the eat-all-you-can deal is no longer available. Oh well, a la carte it is then! A lot of people (myself included) initially assume that sushi cuisine is all about raw fish. However, that is quite incorrect as only certain items on the menu fit this description. I ordered myself a plate of spare ribs and a varied selection of sushi rice rolls and proceeded to tuck in. I even had a bash at using chopsticks and acquitted myself with aplomb. My first ever attempt in Dresden, Germany, had been lamentable and the waitress helped me out by binding my useless batons together with a rubber band, thereby creating a handy snapping tool. Having eaten our fill, we headed over to Princes Street Gardens to browse the stalls at the German style Christmas market - at least that was the theory! The queue to gain entry was lengthy and one person near the front said she had been waiting for half an hour. Through the gate we could see the market was heaving and it didn't look like a fun experience. All concept of social distancing completely abandoned. There were a few food stalls on the perimeter with a serving hatch facing Princes Street but the prices were ridiculous. £7 for a bratwurst? Das ist aber schweineteuer! Instead we wandered towards Haymarket and took a tram from there. Not the birthday outing I had planned but a good one nonetheless.
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