Tuesday 11th August 2009 – A Last Look Round

It's a funny thing, memory. Well, I don't actually know that, I just know my memory is a funny thing.

When I was talking to the old Glasgow resident yesterday, he drew a few maps, saying where this and that was: "of course, the church is gone now", he said. Gone? I remember seeing it!

So I thought I'd better go back for another look. His lifetime of memory was better than my glimpse: the church was indeed gone.

Opposite where the church used to be is the cemetery, which is now, and probably always was, the biggest thing in Glasgow. It is easy to see where the burials began, where the oldest stones are.

There are a small number of graves of young men who died between 1861 and 1865, presumably in Civil War battles. There is also a monument to the dead of the Civil War:

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It wasn't easy to photograph in the prevailing light. The rather startling epitaph says "In memory of the heroes who saved our country from the unholy rebellion of 1861-5". No pulling punches there, then; or perhaps just a reflection of a small rural community with three churches, which might have been stoutly abolitionist, and had lost a few young men. But not the sort of post-war conciliatory attitudes we see nowadays.

I decided on a last adventure: I pointed Dulcie at one of the grey, gravel roads north of Glasgow, and made her take me back that way. And what an adventure it turned out to be.

As I finally turned onto the road that led to US 34, called Varnishtree Avenue, a car backed out of a nearby house. I could see them stop to look at the way I was going. Pretty soon, it turned into a dirt road: "Minimum Maintenance", the sign said, "Travel at Your Own Risk". Although it had been raining a storm for the past couple of days, the road seemed dry enough. And I could always turn back if necessary. I kept an eye in the mirror, to see how deep my tracks were.

"Stream Crossing Ahead" said the next sign: Oh dear! But I was gripped by some perverse need to follow the plan through. Dulcie was stonily silent: no need to recalculate this one; perhaps she was hoping I would learn a lesson, be more obedient in future.

The sign repeated a little later, and we started to drop down gently. What if I can't back up, I thought. Then I came to a steeper slope, and a sign reading "Do not Cross if Under Water". Oh, dear, what was driving me to this stupidity?

I came round a bend and saw a concrete crossing in the stream and it wasn't not under water. I speeded up enough to be sure of getting up the other side, and I was across, and away.

Pretty soon, the road was semi-gravelled, and then I saw the stop sign warning, telling me the highway was just ahead: got away with it.

Well, it seemed like an adventure to me!