Posted by: christinelaennec | November 1, 2014

A bouquet for November

Happy All Saints Day and the start of November.  We had lots of “guisers” at the door last night.  (The word “guiser” and “guising” comes from “disguise”.)  There were some fab costumes and some truly terrible jokes.  Michael’s favourite joke was: Q:  What do you call John Wayne’s kids?  A:  The Waynes.  We also had a few songs sung, and our 7-year-old neighbour sweetly recited some Halloween poems for her treats.  I like the Scottish tradition of performing a turn before you get your sweetie.

I have been putting the garden to bed.  If the city council were so kind as to do garden waste recycling throughout the winter, I would have left a lot more in the ground, because it’s been so very mild that a lot of my bedding plants are still going strong. I’ve also planted hundreds of bulbs.  In Aberdeen (where I had a lot more garden space) I think I planted hundreds of bulbs every year, and there always seemed to be room for more.  We shall see what happens in my Glasgow garden.

End-of-summer gift to me from the garden.

End-of-summer gift to me from the garden.

Day before yesterday I picked a lovely, scented bouquet.  Even though I cleared them nearly all away, Roobeedoo‘s marigolds are still blooming, and optimistically sending up new shoots for next year.  I’ve collected their seeds as well.  As you see, my roses are still blooming, as they so often do, even until close to Christmas.  In my bouquet you see Claire Austin (white) and Boscobel (pink).  I love the delicate astrantia, which have done well to establish themselves in their first year, and also I do really wish you could smell the carnations – they have a delicate clove scent.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, after a very gloomy and windy week.  I think Michael and I shall venture out on our bikes.

Be sure to come visit again on Wednesday November 5th, as I’m going to be doing a wee giveaway!

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 29, 2014

The Glasgow Coat of Arms

Constance Ann very kindly asked, in a comment on my previous post, if I would tell the story of the Glasgow Coat of Arms.  In fact it has four stories attached to its four elements: the tree, the bird, the fish and the bell.  You can see these four elements in the lampposts near Glasgow Cathedral:

Lamppost next to Glasgow Cathedral.  Photo source:

Lamppost next to Glasgow Cathedral. Photo source:

In the past, Glaswegian schoolchildren were taught a rhyme to help them remember their city’s coat of arms:

There’s the tree that never grew;

There’s the bird that never flew;

There’s the fish that never swam;

There’s the bell that never rang.

Glasgow Coat of Arms, from The Glasgow Story, link below.

Glasgow Coat of Arms, from The Glasgow Story website, url at bottom of post.

What are the stories behind these mysterious lines?  They all go back to an early Christian saint in this part of the world, St. Mungo.  He lived in the late 6th century, and was also known as St. Kentigern.

The tree that never grew:   St. Mungo was in charge of making sure that the fire at St. Serf’s monastery didn’t go out.  Alas, he fell asleep and the fire went out.  He went to get a branch of a tree, and through his fervent prayers, caused it to burst into flame, so he could rekindle the fire.

The bird that never flew:   St. Mungo brought back to life a robin that was a favoured pet of his tutor St. Serf.

The bell that never rang:  By most accounts this is a bell that John Stewart, the first Lord Provost of Glasgow, had made in 1450, called “St. Mungo’s Bell”.  It was to remind the citizens of the city to pray for his soul.

The fish that never swam:  This is a Scottish/Celtic version of a European folktale.  In this version, King Hydderch Hael gave a ring to his Queen, Langoureth.  She in turn gave it to a knight she favoured.  The King discovered the ring, and threw it into the River Clyde.  He then demanded that Queen Langoureth produce the ring, to prove her faithfulness, under pain of death.  She asked for it from the knight, who no longer had it.  He went to St. Mungo and appealed for help.  St. Mungo told one of his monks to go fishing and bring him the first fish he caught.  This was a salmon, with the King’s ring in its mouth.  And thus Queen Langoureth’s life was saved.

The city’s Coat of Arms, along with its motto “Let Glasgow Flourish” (also attributed to St. Mungo) are found everywhere you go in the city.  I shall have to collect some examples to show you in another post.

Image of coat of arms is from

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 25, 2014

St Mungo Museum of Religious Life & Art, Glasgow

Last month I had the chance to visit the St. Mungo Museum of Religious Life & Art for the first time.  I really enjoyed it.  Most of my photos are of the exhibition on the first floor, as the other exhibitions were difficult to take photos of.  But let me share as much as I can of what I found there.

The first floor is dedicated to religious art, from all religions.  I loved the stained glass.  And as you may know, I also particularly love roses.  This panel came from St. Ninian Wynd church in Glasgow:


Stained glass panel from St. Ninian’s Wynd Church, Glasgow.  In St. Mungo Museum, Glasgow.

The rose appears frequently in the Bible, and the verse accompanying this panel was Isaiah 35:  “The wilderness and the solitary place shall be glad for them; and the desert shall rejoice, and blossom as the rose.”

Here is a large stained-glass panel, designed by Edward Burne-Jones, the pre-Raphaelite painter:


Stained-glass panel from Woodlands Parish Church, Glasgow.  Designed by Edward Burne-Jones and manufactured by William Morris & Co, in 1882.

Here is a piece of contemporary Islamic art, “The Attributes of Divine Perfection” by Ahmed Moustafa.


“The Attributes of Divine Perfection,” a modern calligraphic work by Ahmed Moustafa

The exhibition notes say that the calligraphy on the cubes shows the 99 divine attributes of God.  This piece of art is far more challenging for me to appreciate than, for example, the stained glass windows, which are comfortingly familiar.  It’s good to be challenged!

The painting below shows a Jewish family at home in London.  It is the work of Dora Holzhandler, born 1928, who according to the exhibition notes is still living and painting in London.  The title of the painting is “The Sabbath Candles”.  The scene reminds me of our own family traditions, even though our Sabbath is not Friday but Sunday.


“The Sabbath Candles,” by Dora Holzhandler.

Here is a statue of Shiva, the Hindu god:


“Shiva as Nataraja”

Shiva as Nataraja is the god who creates and destroys all things.  The statue is over 250 years old.  I believe he is dancing on the “demon of ignorance” and is within a circle of flames as he is about to destroy, so that new things can be created.

My favourite work of art in this part of the museum was this piece:


“Kangaroo Wild Cabbage, Ceremonial Spear, Possum and Bush Carrot Dreaming,1992″ by Paddy Japaljarri Stewart, Paddy Japaljarri Sims, Bessie Nakamarra Sims and Pansy Nakamarra Stewart, Warlpiri people Yuendumu.

The exhibition notes state:  “Unlike the creation stories of the Qu’ran or Bible, there is not one Dreaming that everyone knows.  Clan groups are custodians for the Dreamings of their particular area, and it is against aboriginal law to represent another group’s Dreaming without permission.”  What a fascinating take on spiritual reality, or reality full stop (I would argue reality is spiritual, but…).  Given how unique every person’s perspective and thinking is, doesn’t it make greater sense than expecting people to adopt one story, whose meaning they will go on to debate, interpret, or you might say recreate?

I wish I knew much more than I do about the beliefs of the Aboriginal people of Australia.  Perhaps some of you can recommend a good book on the topic.  I haven’t yet read Bruce Chatwin, and seem to recall there was some debate about his book(s).

The floor above the exhibition of Religious Art is an exhibition of the major religions of the world.  I was really interested, for example, to see statues of the Buddha as a child playing!  And the top floor is an exhibition of religion in Scotland, going back to pre-Christian times.  I learned a few things, and enjoyed all of it.

The view from the second floor is really something.  You look over to Glasgow Cathedral (which, controversially, has just begun to charge an entrance fee!) and to the Glasgow Necropolis:


View to Glasgow Cathedral and the Necropolis from St. Mungo Museum

There is a cafe on the ground floor, looking out onto a Zen garden.  I sat under the archway and ate my packed lunch, enjoying the view, especially the lamp-posts that have the four elements of Glasgow’s coat of arms (bird, tree, bell, fish).  The Glasgow coat of arms, if you’re interested, is a story for another post!


The Zen garden at St. Mungo Museum of Religious Life & Art, Glasgow

I hope you’ve enjoyed this little visit, and that you’re having a very good weekend.  Tonight our clocks go back, so we will have a bit more light in the mornings, but it will be dark by 5:30, and get darker earlier and earlier after that.  But it’s less than two months until the longest night and then not long til Christmas!

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 19, 2014

The forest

Part of my walk in Crianlarich took me into a forest.  I love the forest very much.  When we first came to Scotland, driving through areas such as Deeside made me feel I’d been transported back home to Oregon.  However, I felt stabbed in the heart whenever I saw clear-cut areas – until I realised that the forests we’d been driving through weren’t old-growth forest, but crops to be harvested.

I have hiked through “real” forests – for example in Glen Tanar.  There are remnants of the ancient Caledonian forest throughout Scotland.  Glen Affric is a stunning example.  The forest I walked through in Crianlarich was a forest plantation.

forest plantation, Crianlarich, September 2014.

Forest plantation, Crianlarich, September 2014.

While I have always had a love of the forest, and feel safe and protected under trees, not everyone feels the same.  I remember one of our friends in graduate student days, who was from Wyoming, said that trees “made her nervous”.  I found this perplexing!  But while Our Son always saw the forest as a fort-making and stick-throwing opportunity, the Dafter also feels nervous in the forest.

Looking into the forest

Looking into the forest

Peering into the crowded forest plantation, you can see why.  On my walk, I was reminded of when I used to teach something called French Survey of Literature.  This course plunged the poor students straight into medieval literature, and (as a medievalist myself in those days) I tried hard to show them that the Middle Ages wasn’t just, as Lucky Jim says in the novel, “a time when people were bad at art”.  One of the things that I tried to get them to understand was that during most of the Middle Ages, Europe was covered by forest.  As in fairy tales, the forest was a dangerous place to be and to traverse.

Perhaps some of them had already come to this conclusion, who knows?

Certain aspects of French medieval literature, for example the tales of the Round Table or the lays of Marie de France, can be better understood if one grasps the significance of the forest.  Interesting encounters happen in clearings (for example in the story of Yvain), and the Forest of Broceliande is a magical place.  Marie de France’s good-hearted werewolf, Bisclavret, reveals his true nature to the King when he bows to him during a hunt in the forest.

Recently, Michael and I had the chance to visit an event held by the Forestry Commission:  Light up the Forest.  We walked along paths lit by fires and torches.  Old groves of trees were uplit by coloured lights, and the waterfall was beyond a lit crevasse.  There was a ghostly installation depicting the people, now long gone, who used to live and work in the forest:

An installation, part of "Light up the Forest" in the Forestry Commission, Aberfoyle, October 2014.

An installation, part of “Light up the Forest” in the Forestry Commission, Aberfoyle, October 2014.  Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find the name of the artist or the installation.  If you know, please leave a comment!

I do love the forest very much, and even if it can be spooky, I think I will always find it comforting.

What about you?  What does the forest mean to you?

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 17, 2014

Fun on the Forth & Clyde canal path

Our family has recently been discovering the delights of the Forth & Clyde canal, which (as its name implies) runs from the Firth of Forth in Edinburgh, through Glasgow to join the River Clyde.  It opened in 1790, but was closed in 1966.  However, through the efforts of many volunteers it was reopened in time for the Millenium in 2000.  You can read more about its history here.

One Saturday morning, Michael and I headed out early for a cycle out to Clydebank.  It was the first time I’d been on my bicycle for a good number of years.  I was therefore a bit wobbly at first, but it was great fun and I didn’t fall in the canal:


me and my trusty steed next to the Forth & Clyde canal in Clydebank

On our next outing, I was feeling bolder and we went all the way to where the canal joins the River Clyde:


At Bowling, where the Forth & Clyde canal joins the River Clyde to the west of Glasgow.

The canal passes close to the heart of the city.  Below is a photo looking towards Lock 27, north of Anniesland Cross in Glasgow.  I had driven over the canal many times going up to Bearsden, and had seen the canal-side pub called Lock 27, but I’d never come along the canal itself.

There are many locks along the canal, and various watercraft use it to travel.  It was interesting to watch one boat’s crew work the lock, though I don’t have a photo to show you.  One great advantage of cycling along the canal is that the path is level except for gradual rises at the locks (as you see below).  There are no great hills to climb.


Looking east towards Lock 27 on the Forth & Clyde Canal

One of the most amazing things about the canal is the sense of peace and countryside that you have, even though you are in a very large city.

The Dafter also came for a walk with me along the canal, one beautiful day when she had a bit of energy after school.  This photo shows the canal just beyond where I was standing in Clydebank in the top photo:


The Forth & Clyde canal, west of Clydebank

Glasgow reminds me a bit of my hometown, Portland, Oregon, in that while it is a large city, there is a lot of unspoiled nature even in the heart of the city.  My parents actively campaigned for the conservation of Oaks Bottom in Portland, and I am very proud of what they achieved.  Other people similarly worked very hard to clean up the Forth & Clyde canal, build the lovely path, and re-open it to barges and boats.  I really appreciate their hard work.  The path is very well used by dog-walkers, runners, cyclists and people out for a stroll.  (A bicycle bell is essential!) The canal is a wonderful asset for the city to have, and I look forward to discovering much more of it.

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 12, 2014

Aberdeen in September

A month ago, I had the chance to go back to Aberdeen for a visit.  I had a really lovely two days there.  The weather, for one thing, was most un-Aberdeenlike:  warm sunshine and no wind!

I arrived at mid-day and met a good friend for lunch.  It was great to catch up and relax together.

I was very interested to see for myself the changes in the city centre that have happened since the 1970s carbuncle St. Nicholas House was demolished.  Provost Skene’s House, one of my favy places in Aberdeen, is no longer surrounded by steel and glass.  Its windows are sealed against damage in the demolition works, but if it could see, it would marvel at its current view.


Provost Skene’s House, released from being trapped in a 1970s nightmare.  Aberdeen, September 2014.

The beautiful façade of Marischal College has similarly been revealed:


Looking down Schoolhill at Marischal College.  Aberdeen, September 2014.

Sadly, in my opinion, the city plans to redevelop the area by “building glass boxes” (in my friend’s words) all around Provost Skene’s House.  I was glad to see it released from captivity and standing proudly against the skyline.

I then met another friend, to go see the Kaffe Fassett exhibition “Fifty Years of Colour” at the Aberdeen Art Gallery.  She is even more of a Kaffe Fassett fan than I am, and has made quite a few of his designs, in knitting, needlework and quilting. It was a treat to go through the exhibit with her.  Those who read my post on the exhibition in Bath will recognise the themes:


Leaves and vegetation. I love this knitted coat, but doubt I would have the patience to do all that intarsia!


A profusion of flowers in needlepoint


More flowers, in needlepoint and in knitted form.

Aberdeen is important to Kaffe Fassett.  It was on a visit to the late designer Bill Gibb, who was from the North-East of Scotland, that Kaffe visited a woollen mill and was taken by all the shades of wool.  He bought lots of colours of wool, and was taught to knit on the train back to London.  You can see a short film here of Kaffe talking about his connection to Scotland, his work and the importance of colour to him.  For more photographs of the Aberdeen exhibition, see this post on Time flies when you’re having fun…


Harvest scene

I had a chance to visit lots of friends from my old church, including dropping by the Coffee Morning that they happened to have.  And I went out to the countryside to see a good friend.


St Nicholas Kirkyard, Aberdeen, September 2014.

It was such a pleasure to be back in very familiar territory, but as a tourist, and with the city looking affa bonnie, as they would say there.  Of course the highlight of my visit was reconnecting with friends, but (having spent 21 years of my life there) Aberdeen itself is like an old friend too.

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 8, 2014

Keeping a date with myself: a walk in Crianlarich Community Woodlands

A few weeks ago, Michael arranged to work from home and help the Dafter so I could have the day off.  I headed for the hills, and went to Crianlarich.  I was there in about two hours, after a stunning train ride on the famous West Highland Line:

Near Garelochhead, I think - West Highland Line.  September, 2014.

Near Garelochhead, I think – West Highland Line. September, 2014.

As usual, I was blissed out knitting, enjoying a coffee, reading and thinking along the way.

Crianlarich is an important junction in the Highlands.  Two main roads converge there, and also the train splits in half.  One half goes to Mallaig, and the other half goes to Oban.

Crianlarich station, where the train divides.

Crianlarich station, where the train divides.

But I got off, and went in search of a place that we visited years ago.

In July 2000, our family stayed overnight in Crianlarich, on our way from Aberdeen to Islay for a friend’s wedding.  It was an extremely difficult time for our family.  Eight-year-old Our Son’s problems were becoming quite extreme, and no-one except our family GP and our minister seemed to believe us.  We were terribly concerned both about Our Son, and about the two-year-old Dafter’s safety.  We were just beginning what was to be a long period of battling with the authorities over securing proper help for Our Son, which culminated a year later in our winning the battle for him to go to therapeutic residential care.  In July 2000, I didn’t know how things would turn out.  I had feelings of dread about our family’s future, and I felt afraid for the world in general.  I was worried about wars in the Middle East, ethnic cleansing in Eastern Europe, I was worried about the environment and global warming. I wondered what kind of a world my children would live in when they were my age (40).

The evening of our stay in Crianlarich in the year 2000, our little family went for a walk in a newly-planted community woodland.  I remember carrying the tired Dafter, while Our Son let off a lot of energy dashing about on the paths.  The trees were all mere sticks in protective plastic casings, and it seemed to be a woodland in name only.  I remember saying to myself, “Let’s just see what happens.  I’ll come back here in 15 years and see if life is better then.”

Conkers, and fairy hoax mitts.  Sept. 2014.

Near the entrance to the woodland:  conkers, on my fairy hoax mitts. Sept. 2014.

So when I had a free day recently, I decided not to wait another year, but to go back to see how the woodlands had come on, and whether I felt life was indeed better.

What a lovely experience it was!  The sticks in plastic cases had turned into beautiful trees:

View from Community Woodlands, Crianlarich.  Sept. 2014.

View from Community Woodlands, Crianlarich. Sept. 2014.  The young birch tree on the right of the photo is one of the trees planted in 1999.

Mountains, Crianlarich.  Sept. 2014.

Mountains, and crepuscular rays of the sun coming through the clouds.  Crianlarich. Sept. 2014.

The winds were blowing very steadily, and I watched the clouds chase across the sky.  I felt so grateful that Our Son, now 22, is doing better than we ever dreamed possible, living independently and having an affectionate relationship with us.  The Dafter is continuing to recover from her ME/CFS, and is in many ways so much more together than I was as a teenager.  Both our children delight us.  Our family has more than survived – we have flourished.  Perhaps some people would look at us and see a lot of problems, but I see that a lot of healing has happened.

In terms of the world more generally, even with the horrors that we humans have inflicted on one another and on our planet in the interim, I must say that I feel far more positive about the future than I did back then.  I’m glad that my children’s outlook doesn’t really take in what race or sexual orientation people are; I’m grateful for people like Mo Mowlem and Nelson Mandela and their largely successful efforts to lead their countries to peace and reconciliation.  I still worry about the environment, but at least I can now easily recycle a lot of our household waste, and for example request that our household electricity come from renewable sources.  The topic of damage to the environment is mainstream rather than a fringe concern.  Perhaps it’s one of the gifts of being older, but I’m more able to take the long view about a lot of problems nowadays.  I’m more able to choose to be hopeful than I was back then.

Here’s me, enjoying the fresh air and the passing showers:

Hiker Mama?

Hiker Mama?

(I wasn’t actually feeling hugely self-satisfied, I was just trying to keep my hair out of my face!)

The green of the nearby forest and vegetation was intense, which surprised and delighted me:

Greenery, Crianlarich.  Sept. 2014

Greenery, Crianlarich. Sept. 2014

Even in September, although I’d missed the heather, there were wildflowers:

Wild scabious, Crianlarich Community Woodland, Sept. 2014.

Wild scabious, Crianlarich Community Woodland, Sept. 2014.

The sense of space and light were wonderful:

Crianlarich Community Woodland, 14 years later.

Crianlarich Community Woodland.

And the fall colours of the Highlands were beautiful, with the bracken ferns beginning to turn:

Fall colours:  bracken.

Fall colours: bracken.

After an hour’s walk, including a wee detour into some forest plantations, I went back into the village.  Even though it is an important intersection, rail stop and also a place crossed by the long-distance West Highland Way walking trail, Crianlarich is pretty small.  There are two hotels, a police station, the train station, a shop, a pub/restaurant, a little church, a nursery and primary school, and houses.    I found a rare traffic-free moment to show you where the East-West A85 meets the North-South A82:

Crianlarich village, with the train viaduct.  Sept. 2014.

Crianlarich village, with the train viaduct. Sept. 2014.

I hadn’t really gotten very wet on my walk, and by the time I had walked through the village, the sun had come out and dried me off.  I went up to the Crianlarich Hotel and enjoyed a beautiful scone, and more time to dream, knit and read in the window:

Coffee (and scone) at the Crianlarich Hotel, Sept. 2014.

Coffee (the scone had yet to arrive) at the Crianlarich Hotel, Sept. 2014.

I was interested to see that they host ceilidhs every Saturday night all winter long.  I wonder if they’re as good as the family ceilidh we went to in Lochranza on Arran?


ceilidhs!  (I found it slightly surreal that the Crianlarich Hotel is now owned by Best Western, which I associate with Oregon!)

Then it was time to catch the train back to Glasgow.  Crianlarich train station is very well kept, and has a lovely, bright waiting room:

Crianlarich station waiting room.

Crianlarich station waiting room.

I imagine it must be a bit different in the winter, packed with passengers while it snows outside.  There was a sign inviting you to push a button on the wall to turn on the heater.

The journey back seemed even more spectacular than coming up in the morning:

On the way home:  West Highland Line going back to Glasgow.

On the way home: West Highland Line going back to Glasgow.

View from the train.

View from the train.

Unlike James James Morrison Morrison Weatherby George Dupree’s mother, I was indeed back in time for tea.  I felt as if I’d been away much longer than just a day.  The fresh air of the Highlands (and plenty of knitting time) had swept away a few cobwebs, and I slept like a log that night.  It was a great wee break, and good to feel that on balance there is plenty to celebrate about life.

I hope you’re all having a good week, and perhaps having a few adventures of your own!

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 4, 2014

Missing person: Fergus McInnes

Dear Readers,

The title of my post is, sadly, not clever word-play.  Some of you may have been readers of Lorna’s Tearoom Delights.  A few months ago, Lorna took a break from blogging; I was delighted to see that she had posted again.  However, my happiness soon turned to great sadness, as she has asked for help to find her missing brother, Fergus McInnes.  He went missing in Geneva on September 9th.


You can read about Fergus and the circumstances of his disappearance here, on Lorna’s blog.

Fergus’ friends have set up a website, called Missing Fergus McInnes, which has more information, updates, and a page for reporting any information people might have.

My little blog now gets over 150 hits a day so I thought I would write this post, in case anyone out there has any information.

Posted by: christinelaennec | October 2, 2014

A look back at September

I can’t quite believe it’s already October!  This month has gone by very quickly – which is a nice change of pace, believe me.  The Dafter is continuing to work very hard every day on her recovery from ME/CFS, and I’m so proud of the progress she’s making.  School is still very challenging because her concentration is still poor, but she is not one to give up!   Let me show you a few snaps from the past month:

We had a very dry, sunny and warm month of September here in Glasgow, and the garden enjoyed the weather enormously:

The garden at the beginning of September 2014.

The garden, mid-September 2014.

My hair got to rather ridiculous proportions:



But I finally found a hairdresser who just did as I asked, and didn’t nag me to cover up the grey:


After the chop!

Where was I last Friday?  Ah you will have to wait a bit to see.

I wasn’t the only one in the family who had a bit of an image change.  The poor Dafter had a rather traumatic couple of days after going to the opticians to get her glasses adjusted.  The optician accidentally broke her old frames!  Suddenly, at the end of what had already been a long day, she had to pick out a new pair of glasses (and go to school the next day with the old ones taped together).  But she did brilliantly, don’t you think?

New specs for the Dafter

New specs for the Dafter

Because the Dafter has faced so many, many challenges, I too have had to be courageous.  I appreciated this sign in a cafe I happened to stop by:

An important message.

An important message.

The warm weather brought us lots of beautiful butterflies:

Admiral butterfly on my mini buddleia bush, end of September 2014.

Admiral butterfly on my mini buddleia bush, end of September 2014.

Butterflies always enchant me.  It’s like seeing an angel.

Knowing that a month of dry weather is by far the exception to the rule here, I tried to buy myself a pair of wellies that I could wear when out and about in town.  (My garden wellies are fine for digging a trench, but I would cripple myself if I tried to walk two miles in them.)  This proved to be more difficult than I’d thought!  But look what I found:

Instead of wellies!

Instead of wellies!

These “Spats boots” are made in the UK and sold by Sarah Raven.  I hope they will be as fun as they look, as well as practical.

And as if that weren’t enough, at the start of the month I paid a visit to Aberdeen!  Those of you who know the city will be as pleased as I was to see the full length of Marischal College, and the lovely Provost Skene’s house unencumbered by the huge St. Nicholas House (as was):

Aberdeen, September 2014.

Aberdeen, September 2014.  (Sorry about the bins!)

I will tell you a bit more about this trip in another post as well.

Happy October everyone!  I hope you’ve had a good week, and wish you a good weekend to come.


Posted by: christinelaennec | September 25, 2014

House for an Art Lover

Way back at the beginning of June, the Dafter and I met some friends at Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s House for an Art Lover.  It was the very first outing that the Dafter made without the wheelchair, and that is my keenest memory of it.  I spent a lot of the time on the lookout for signs of collapse, and for places where she could sit down on very short notice!

This house is very interesting to me.  Not only because I like Charles Rennie Mackintosh’s design aesthetic, but because it was built long after his lifetime.  The house was designed by Mackintosh, with interiors designed by his wife Margaret MacDonald, for a Viennese competition in 1900.  The design was never realised, until in 1989 a group of determined individuals decided to build the house. I think it took them nearly a decade to do so.  You can read more about it on the House for an Art Lover website.

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.  Summer 2014.

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow. Summer 2014.

The house is situated in Glasgow’s Bellahouston Park.  Downstairs there is a spacious Music Room with French doors onto the veranda:

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Music Room, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

And a most extraordinary piano:

House for an Art Lover:  piano, with Dafter and friend.

House for an Art Lover: piano, with Dafter and friend.

I’m not altogether keen on the piano, I have to say!  It looks a bit scary to me.

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Music Room, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Throughout the house, as with so many of Mackintosh’s designs, you will see what is known as “the Glasgow Rose”:

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Stained glass panel, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Creating the house involved the work of many talented contemporary craftspeople and artisans, as you can see:

Fireplace, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Fireplace, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

The Oval Room, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

The Dafter did so well that day.  She found a lovely place to sit and rest:

House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

The Dafter in a window seat, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

We went for a coffee and snack in the cafe, which at that point was an accomplishment because she was still acutely sensitive to noise, and any crashing cutlery would startle the life out of her.  But then she had the strength to go see the gardens:

House for an Art Lover entrance - with the Dafter looking in and taking a photo of me taking a photo of her!

Inside House for an Art Lover’s garden entrance – with the Dafter looking in and taking a photo of me taking a photo of her!

The gardens were being readied for their summer show, with the beds in the centre awaiting planting.  The beds around the sides had some beautiful mature plants in them, but I don’t have a good photo to show you.  I found the topiary very amusing!

House for an Art Lover garden, early summer 2014.

House for an Art Lover garden, early summer 2014.

There was a wee room built into the perimeter wall of the garden, with a fireplace and a door to the outside of the garden.  I think this must have been a place for the gardeners to warm up on chilly days.  I really liked the iron grate covering the window.  A fantastically creative take on the need for security!  The fronds in the centre are framed by the names of Scottish wildflowers:

Ironwork on a window of a garden outhouse, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

Ironwork on a window of a garden outhouse, House for an Art Lover, Glasgow.

It was a memorable day, and a beautiful place.  I must go back!  If you like Charles Rennie Mackintosh and Margaret MacDonald’s work, I’ve written posts about The Willow Tea Rooms on Buchanan Street, the Willow Tea Rooms on Sauchiehall Street and almost exactly four years ago now, a post that includes a couple of photos from our visit to The Hill House in Helensburgh.

I hope you’re all having a good week.  It’s officially autumn now!

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