Tag Archives: Edinburgh

Reflections on the Union Canal

Morning run by the Union Canal in Edinburgh

A few days ago I rose early to Ieave my car at a garage a couple of miles away beside the Union Canal. It was a beautiful blue-skied morning, such as Edinburgh occasionally bestows on its inhabitants, and I decided to run back home along the canal. The sun was shining brightly and the trees were just beginning to put on their new leaves. As I came to the stretch of the canal near the church at Polwarth I stopped and took a photo of the scene.

When I examined the photo later I was disappointed that the church tower was partly hidden by the leaves. Nevertheless I put the photo on Facebook where many people liked it. Looking more closely I could see that the tower is in fact fully visible in the reflection. You can see this even better if you turn the photo upside down.

My father might have crafted a sermon or a children’s address out of such a photograph. Perhaps his text would have been “for now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I will know fully.”

A few days later, as I crossed the bridge over the canal, on my way to see a rugby match at Murrayfield, another beautiful sight greeted me.

Evening swim on the canal

There are also swans with their cygnets at the nearby Craiglockhart nature reserve. Each year the entire neighbourhood takes an interest in the birds’ nest and bets are placed on when the eggs will hatch. Ornithologists line up with their huge cameras to capture the moment of birth.

Yesterday afternoon I walked along the Union Canal, westwards this time to where it joins the Water of Leith, which winds its way down from the Pentland Hills.

The canal above Slateford

I followed the river up to the village of Colinton. This is territory Robert Louis Stevenson frequented as a boy. Stevenson, author of ‘Treasure Island’ and ‘Kidnapped’ was one of my grandparents’ favourite authors and I brought their copy of his book ‘Edinburgh’ with me when I first came to the University, many years ago. I remember reading it out loud to my future wife on the January night when we met.

Robert Louis Stevenson is celebrated in the mural at Colinton

Today my son and his wife and daughters live in Colinton. Look who is coming along to meet Grandpa.

Sunday afternoon stroll in Colinton

Marking the page

The packers arrive tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. As I look down from our flat to the avenue below I see that the police have already reserved a place for the removal van. This is the 17th flit of our married life.

This evening, as the sun streams through our window, at the end of a beautiful Spring Sunday, we are making our final choices of what to bring to Edinburgh and what to leave in Brussels.

In the beginning we were going to move everything of value. However last week we learned that, as a result of Brexit, we will have to pay VAT, Customs Duties and a customs charge on all the goods we take to the UK. So we have decided to leave our most expensive belongings in Belgium for the time being.


Among the books I found a copy of Kipling’s Jungle Books inscribed ‘Annie from R. October 3rd 1925’. Between pages 261 and 262 I found this picture, cut from a greetings card. On the back it says – ‘black headed shrike on bougainvillea. Drawing by the Rev B.C.R. Henry’

At the bottom corner you can see the year of the drawing is 1957. That is the year my Grandfather died. I have just read the first story entitled ‘Mowgli’s brothers’. We are introduced to Akela, Shere Khan, Baghera, Baloo – compelling stuff. I seem to recall that Gran read us these stories when we were young. Perhaps the marker shows that one of my grandparents was in the middle of reading the book when they died.


My grandsons Finn or Max are about the right age to appreciate these stories. I’ve just shown Finn the book on a phone call. As I thought he knows the film but doesn’t know the book. So this one is being added to the Edinburgh pile. I hope I’m not charged extra VAT because it is a first edition. I can’t wait to see my grandchildren again.


As a result of all our moves around the world we possess mountains of bits and pieces of things of little commercial value, but much sentimental value-added. Yet we have always found that the best moment in a move is when the packers have gone and the place is empty.