Day 24 - Return from Edinburgh - Internet Disaster

I'm not sure how it happened, but on our return from Edinburgh I tried to connect to my blogs using the East Coast Train Internet Option and it totally messed up my browser.  I'm trying to restore the tabs I had, though I'm sure there's one or two I missed.  Not a happy camper right now.

Needless to say, I was not able to do any Internet work on the train, so I read and when we returned to our flat I collapsed and slept for a few hours.  I'll go back to bed at about 5 AM, or when I just can't see to type anymore.  In the meantime, I wanted to share a story about our trip.  We purchased tickets back in September for both our Bath and Edinburgh trips, however the gentleman who issued our tickets had an issue with his ticket printer, so he reprocessed the tickets and ran our charge through again, assuring us we wouldn't get double-billed.

Not that I didn't believe him, but when we got back to the flat I immediately checked the purchases on my credit card, and sure enough we'd been charged twice for our tickets.  The credit card company was able to remove one of the charges, so we thought that was that, then, yesterday (Thursday) hubby just happened to look at our return ticket to London and noticed the date of our return was listed as the 10th instead of the 11th.  He suggested we just ignore it and see what happened, but I wasn't comfortable with that, so we trudged back to the railroad station.

The gentleman in the Information booth told us to talk to a ticketing agent in Edinburgh, but warned us we may have to pay for our return tickets again.  Though that was a dismaying thought, I really didn't want to stand for the return journey or simply ignore the issue.  Luckily, hubby still had the receipt that showed our correct itinerary, so the Ticketing Agent went to discuss the issue with her Supervisor.  They gave us a slip of paper that permitted us to ride the train even though our tickets were for the previous day, since it was their mistake, however, they could not guarantee us a seat.

In the UK, unless you are able to purchase a reservation, you are purchasing a ticket for a journey, but not necessarily a seat.  This was a five-hour train ride, and the thought of standing through it did not please me at all.  Especially, given the fact we weren't able to stand longer than a half-hour through Macbeth.

So, to insure our best chances for a seat, we got to the station in plenty of time and boarded as soon as we could.  Everyone managed to find a seat, as far as I could tell, though hubby and I ended up sitting apart since I wanted to work at a table with my computer.  Sigh.  As it turns out, I might as well have sat with him given my Internet experience.

Anyway, we're back at the flat now, and I went to bed without supper.  Not because I was a bad girl, but because I was so tired I was shaking.

Now that I'm a little more refreshed, I'll continue my story about Gladstone's Land, which I visited on Thursday.

Gladstone's Land is a surviving 17th century high-tenement house situated in the Old Town of the city of Edinburgh. A National Trust for Scotland site, It has been restored and furnished in a manner consistent with the time.

Gladstone's Land

The "Land" (pictured as the center building above sited at 477 Lawnmarket) was originally built in 1550, but was bought and redeveloped in 1617 by a prosperous Edinburgh merchant and burgess Thomas Gledstanes. The work on the building was completed in 1620. Its prominent setting (on the Royal Mile between Edinburgh Castle and the Palace of Holyrood) and the extent of its accommodation mark out the affluence of its mercantile owner. However, not only did Gledstanes reside there, he let out parts of the building to an assortment of tenants of different social classes (another merchant, a minister, a knight, and a guild officer). Given the cramped conditions of the Old Town, and the physical size of the lot, the house could only be extended in depth (underground) or in height. As a result, the house is six stories tall.

Considered to be a tenement building (meaning a building comprised of apartments for rent), most of the flats were single rooms (a studio flat today) where a family of five or six would live in an 8 by 14' room preparing food in the fireplace and using a chamber pot, which would get emptied onto the street no more than twice a day with the call, "Gardy Loo," which was a poor English translation of the phrase "Guardez l'eau," which means "Watch for the water."  Except it wasn't really water being tossed into the streets, and the warning caught more than one passer-by unawares.  Let's hope they weren't looking up at the time.  In any case, this practice caused the streets to be little more than running sewers.

By the late-18th century, Edinburgh's Old Town was no longer a fashionable address. Increasing pressures from population growth encouraged the flight of the affluent from cramped conditions to the developing New Town.  As a result, in 1934, the building was condemned.  If the National Trust for Scotland hadn't intervened with a rescue, the building would have been demolished. However, once it aquired the building, the Trust fully restored the first two floors, uncovering original renaissance painted ceilings in the process. Today the restored premises offer a glimpse of 17th century life, with open fires, lack of running water, and period decoration and furniture. Since the shop operated out of a window at ground level, there is a French-style arcade frontage and reconstructed shop booth, complete with replicas of 17th century wares. This would originally have provided shelter for the merchant's customers. On the left of the building, a curved stone forestair with iron railings leads from the street to a door at 1st floor level.

The sign above the entrance to the building displays the date 1617 and a gilt-copper hawk with outstretched wings. Although not an original feature, the significance of this is that the name "Gledstanes" is derived from the Scots word "gled" meaning a hawk. Today, visitors to the city can contrast Gladstone's Land to the Trust's restored example of a New Town residence, The Georgian House, at No. 7 Charlotte Square.  I wanted to visit the Georgian House, but was unable to make it on this trip.

I will have more pictures to share later, since we took several of our own, but once again I'm going to need to call it a night and add more tomorrow.  We had a slight problem with the bed tonight, so hubby is currently sleeping with the mattress on the bedroom floor.  Another adventure in store, which I will try to share as it progresses.

Day 23 - Living Close in Edinburgh

Today we did some shopping and touring and I learned a few more things about Edinburgh.  When we first arrived in the city we noticed several alleyways called "closes" peppered throughout the Royal Mile.  Most of them consisted of narrow steps that would take you from one street level to the other.

According to Wikipedia, the Old Town of Edinburgh consisted originally of the Royal Mile and the small streets and courtyards that led off it to the north and south. These are usually named after a memorable occupant of one of the apartments reached by the common entrance, or the occupations of those that traded therein. Generically they are termed closes, a Scots term for alleyways, although they may be individually named closes, entries, courts and wynds. Most closes slope steeply down from the Royal Mile creating the impression of a herring-bone pattern formed by the main street and side streets when viewed on a map. Many have steps and long flights of stairs.

Writer's Museum in the Lady Stair's Close

The first close we entered and walked through was the Lady Stair's Close.  Located in Edinburgh's Lawnmarket, Lady Stair's Close is the location of an 17th-century townhouse called Lady Stairs House built in 1622 for Sir William Gray of Pittendrum, an Edinburgh Baronet. It was originally called Lady Gray's House after the widow of the first proprietor. It was then bought in 1719 by the widow of John Dalrymple (1648 - 1707) the first Earl of Stair, hence its present name, which has nothing to do with the stairs you need to climb to get into it.

Sir Walter Scott's inscribed stone in Makar's Court

The close contains the Makars' Court - inscribed stones to the great names of Scottish literature and the Writers' Museum, which belongs to the city of Edinburgh, The museum contains memorabilia which celebrate the lives of three writers who all at one time lived in Edinburgh: Sir Walter Scott, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Robert Burns. Burns stayed in the house opposite the museum during his first trip to Edinburgh in 1786. (since demolished and rebuilt, now as Deacon Brodie's Tavern).

Statue of Deacon Brodie in front of the cafe given his name.

As a side note, William Brodie (28 September 1741 – 1 October 1788), more commonly known by his prestigious title of Deacon Brodie, was a Scottish cabinet-maker, deacon of a trades guild and Edinburgh city councilor, who maintained a secret life as a burglar, partly for the thrill, and partly to fund his gambling.

He used his daytime job as a way to gain knowledge about the security mechanisms of his clients and to copy their keys using wax impressions. As the foremost wright of the city, Brodie was asked to work in the homes of many of the richest members of Edinburgh society. He used the illicit money to maintain his second life, including five children, two mistresses who did not know of each other, and a gambling habit. He reputedly began his criminal career around 1768 when he copied keys to a bank door and stole £800. In 1786 he recruited a gang of three thieves, Brown, Smith, and Ainslie.

The case that led to Brodie's downfall began later in 1786 when he organised an armed raid on an Excise office in Chessel's Court on The Canongate. Brodie's plan failed and Ainslie was captured. Ainslie agreed to turn King's evidence, to avoid transportation, and informed on the rest of the gang. Brodie escaped to the Netherlands intending to flee to the United States but was arrested in Amsterdam and shipped back to Edinburgh for trial.

The trial started on 27 August 1788. At first there was no hard evidence against Brodie before the tools of his criminal trade were found in his house; copied keys, a disguise and pistols. The jury found Brodie and his henchman George Smith, a grocer, guilty. Smith was an English locksmith responsible for a number of thefts, even stealing the silver mace from the University of Edinburgh.

Brodie and Smith were hanged at the Tolbooth on 1 October 1788, using a gallows Brodie had designed and funded the year before. According to one tale, Brodie wore a steel collar and silver tube to prevent the hanging from being fatal. It was said that he had bribed the hangman to ignore it and arranged for his body to be removed quickly in the hope that he could later be revived. If so, the plan failed. Brodie was buried in an unmarked grave at the Buccleuch Church in Chapel Street. The ground is now covered by a car park behind university lecture-halls. However rumours of his being seen in Paris circulated later and gave the story of his scheme to evade death further publicity.

Brodie's Dual Nature as depicted in his tavern signs

The dichotomy between Brodie's respectable façade, and his real nature inspired Robert Louis Stevenson to write The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Stevenson's father had furniture made by Brodie.

Another famous close, which I visited today was Mary King's Close.

Mary King's Close is an old Edinburgh close under buildings in the Old Town area of Edinburgh. It took its name from one Mary King, daughter of advocate Alexander King, who in the 17th century had owned several properties within the close. The close was partially demolished and buried under the Royal Exchange. Being closed to the public for many years, the complex became shrouded in myths and urban legends; tales of ghosts and murders, and myths of plague victims being walled up and left to die abounded.  So, when a Japanese parapsychologist visited the close, and reported she felt such a deep sadness in one of the rooms that she couldn't remain, she turned to leave when she felt the definite presence of a little girl who said she was Annie and that she'd lost her parents along with her dolly.

Given that it wasn't unheard of for parents to leave a child sickened with the plague with a favorite doll in order to take care of their healthy children, the tale was plausible.  The parapsychologist left the room and returned the next day with a doll for the ghostly child.  She immediately felt a lightened spirit in the room.  Since then many people have left dolls and other objects for the stricken ghost child.  The people managing the close donate the gifts they receive to a local children's charity.

Additional research and archaeological evidence has revealed that the close actually consists of a number of closes which were originally narrow streets with tenement houses on either side, stretching up to seven stories high.

Tomorrow as we travel back to London, I will add information about Gladstone's Land, a surviving 17th century high-tenement house situated in the Old Town of the city of Edinburgh.  Lots of ghost stories abound in the Old Town, as you can imagine.  In the meantime, I need to get to bed so we can get packed and ready for our train ride back tomorrow.  I have another story to tell about that as well.  Since the train has an Internet connection, I will attempt to connect while on the ride and finish today's tales.  Until then, rest well.