The Leither 169

The Leither Priceless Issue 169 theleithermagazine.com

With the shenanigans in full swing up the hill, The Leith Glutton ventures abroad

This is America but which America?

Where the Wild Things Are Thatcherite Broadband

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Editor at Large Billy Gould editor@theleithermagazine.com

In search of Charlotte Rampling From the moment I first clapped eyes on her in Lilliana Cavana’s morally dubious The Night Porter…

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have been in search of Charlotte Rampling. I’m going to add ‘enraptured’ by (the very name ‘Rampling’ suggests a rumble in a haystack is guaranteed).

First in Georgy Girl. Where, as Dirk Bogarde would have it, she was “as skittish as a young foal”. Then Stardust Memories, where her extraordinary emerald eyes seem to retain their colour despite the fact that the film is shot in black and white. In The Damned she moves like someone with no clothes on under her clothes. In the otherwise dire Orca: The Killer Whale she is, as the Goons used to say, “the nearest thing I had ever seen to a human being without actually being human”.

Even in Max Mon Amour - where she has an affair with a chimpanzee for god’s sake! - she Charlotte Rampling in Boogie Woogie, 2009 retains her glacial beauty and mystique. What Bogarde called ‘The Look’. whilst Grande Dames toy with Dover soles.

I was at an impressionable age when our Japanese tourists take photographs of the paths first crossed. A pretentious youth who place settings in front of them. affected to read Dostoyevsky and, When the food they have ordered like him, thought that beauty could arrives they video it. save the world. Whether it came in I’m reading an article about Ms the form of art, literature, or music, Professors Rampling in a French magazine it was always intangible, always just and Citizen K, when I realise with out of reach. As long as it existed mounting horror that I have we had a chance. Which is to say academics been inadvertently stalking her. at the age of sixteen all roads led to read heavily She mentions her four favourite Charlotte Rampling. annotated places in Paris and over the last Writing now from my late middle few days I’ve been in all of them, aged desk, I realise that is not textbooks true. If all roads lead to Charlotte whilst Grande culminating in this place.

I am toying with a wonderfully Rampling why does the A9 end in Dames toy unctuous Saint Marcelin cheese Thurso? and a Sancerre rouge when the I’ll warrant too that the sheer with Dover restrained, black, Coco Chanel suit accident of her beauty could be soles glides past on dark heelless pumps. seen as a curse as well as a blessing.

It’s owner takes of their sunglasses Who is to say that her face was not and bends to kiss someone before the slave to her dreams? sitting down with her back to me.

It is February 2018 and I’m The room is extravagantly mirrored but sitting in Brasserie Balzar in the shadow I can’t see her reflection anywhere. She is of the Sorbonne in Paris. Professors and effectively vampire. She has picked the only academics read heavily annotated textbooks

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place in a crowded restaurant where you can’t see anything except the back of her head.

No matter. I know who this is, I can’t control my hands, all thought processes are shot. Diffidence and apprehension come to the fore. I don’t want to approach for she is famously unknowable (and famously inscrutable) but I have to verify. To prove or show something to be true, genuine, or valid.

After all, memory is a form of hunger and I owe it to my younger self to quench it.

In the end it is… (of course it is)… it is simple.

I walk past her on my way to the toilet and on the stairs down I see an old poster for a Julio Medem film Chaotic Ana and I know she was in it. On my way back up the stairs, I ask the waitress in a loud Scottish brogue if I can have it. The waitress looks to Charlotte Rampling’s table and then to me now at the top of the stairs.

At that, Charlotte Rampling looks round - still serenely beautiful at 72 - looks at me, nods a yes, and smiles.

If you have an interesting story we should know about, contact William Gould on 07891 560 338. © 2025 Leither Publishing If you would like information on advertising or sponsorship with the Leither email sue@theleithermagazine.com

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The Leither does not accept responsibility for unsolicited material.

Cover 169: Saint Monan’s Smokehouse, East Neuk, Fife @jonwoodphotos

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Through a Glass Darkly Graham Ross

Welcome to a World on fire Perhaps the first thing we should do in this edition’s column is to address its title

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ometimes applied to people who ared in that rarefied category.

Recently, those of us who regularly contribute to the Leither were asked to come up with what I suppose could be loosely termed a strapline to illustrate where we were coming from in relation to the columns we write.

Having mulled this over for quite some time, I came to realise that most of what I write is almost always preceded by a few glasses of something cheerful, followed by an introspective hour or two trying to make sense of a world on fire. So, looking at things “through a glass darkly” seemed reasonably appropriate. Granted, the phrase was plagiarised by me from a 1961 film directed by Ingmar Bergman. And our esteemed editor further informed me that the phrase was actually taken from Corinthians in the King James version of the bible.

If all of this sounds grossly pretentious, (and it does to me), don’t worry, the column will never delve into the bible (“a cracked book of lies and a thousand twisted pages” as Mike Scott of the Waterboys has it), or try to explain the inner workings of Mr Bergman’s mind. More often than not, it will hopefully be a sober (ahem), look at recent events which may or may not provoke further discussion. Preferably accompanied by the aforementioned cheerful glass. And always remember, it doesn’t matter if you view your glass to be half full or half empty, either way it needs topping up.

And so, to the world on fire.

In recent days, there have been a number 4

of protests outside of hotels across the UK The next leader of the Tory party (unless he which are currently being used to house defects to Reform which seems more suited asylum seekers. The protests have taken to his brand of fascism-lite) Robert Jenrick, place following a ruling by the High Court turned up at the Epping protests and was in England which granted a temporary photographed in close proximity to a veteran injunction to a local council to stop asylum far-right activist. This is the same Jenrick seekers being placed in a hotel in Epping. who said in 2022 “I would never demonise Some protesters are demanding that all people coming to this country in pursuit of a such placements should be stopped and that better life. And I understand and appreciate there should be a mass deportation our obligation to refugees.” campaign, while anti-racism But hey, Kemi Badenoch is campaigners have organised failing to show that she is the counter protests showing support right-wing saviour of the Tories for refugees and asylum seekers. so why not start your leadership Nigel Farage As ever, politicians have sought bid early by showing up to Nigel’s has built a to weigh in on the increasing summer street parties and turning career out unrest. And why not? I mean Nigel on the hypocrisy.

Farage has built an entire career And what of the Labour of being out of being a powder monkey and Government? Well, Home a powder turning up to throw petrol on the Secretary Yvette Cooper has monkey, flames and then claiming that any stated that the government is ensuing chaos and violence has turning up to committed to closing all asylum absolutely nothing to do with him. hotels, but that this needs to throw petrol He’s obviously called for similar happen “in a properly managed on flames protests across the country, without way.” I’m cynical enough to know ever having come up with a viable that this means that all asylum solution to the issue at hand. hotels in the UK will be closed, Oh, unless you count leaving the but probably not until just before European Convention on Human the next general election.

Rights, or mass deportations, or getting There is no denying that the issue of the Royal Navy to tow small boats back to immigration has been slowly coming to the Calais and engage with the French Navy if boil in recent years. But the frightening thing need be. This tawdry, small-minded grifter, is that rather than trying to cool tensions and recently said that he didn’t care if refugees approach the issue with a view to embedding from Afghanistan were killed or tortured cohesion and safety in our communities, under his mass deportation plans, and is some politicians are happy to stand back and rubbing his hands at the thought of turning watch the conflagration for their own ends. communities against one another on this They know who they are and Hell mend issue. them. theleithermagazine.com

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A Film About Porridge Before Coco life was quite different. It’s amazing how such a small thing (6kg) can alter destiny. Coco is my constant companion, my studio assistant and furry bestie

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his dog has changed my life. If it weren’t for Coco there would be no ‘dog porridge’ and it’s likely I would never have taken part in the Golden Spurtle World Porridge Making championship.

For it was just after lockdown, early 2022, that I entered aforementioned competition with a speciality of dog porridge (I sometimes eat porridge for lunch between PT sessions and give Coco her own wee serving). We love oats so much that we were happy to spend a blissful weekend in the Highland village of Carrbridge, stirring oats competitively. I made it to the final hotel on the day of the premiere. We were round of the competition, six of us finalists on family holiday in Bamburgh, so Coco competing for the esteemed trophy. No win! and I caught a very friendly and clean Trans I vowed to return. This year’s Golden Spurtle Pennine Express train to Waverley midwill be live streamed on October 4th to Tracy’s festival. We sauntered through Princes Street fitness studio. All proceeds to Mary’s Meals.

Gardens, stopping for a bowl of water under a tree (Coco, not me). The marble And in 2023, I returned. Before foyer of the Caledonian hotel was the competition Coco and I were cool but busy. A wide-eyed PR filmed for a documentary on the lady bubbled with enthusiasm Golden Spurtle. The crew filmed It feels a for our doggy star, Coco. Photos in Pilrig Park, my allotment and bit weird were taken, we were led up to a outside the studio. I didn’t think featuring in conference room on the 1st floor much about it, and then competed and then the group shot with again in 2024. Fast forward just over a film with Director Constantine Conti, a year and in April this year, a sneak Coco the Producers Rebecca Lamond preview of the film at the very Wonderdog and very happy John Archer village hall in which it was filmed. and some of us contestants in It was at the screening that Coco front of a logoed black screen. and I saw that we’d made the final Very Hollywood. Coco got a bit cut. It was so exciting to be in a film with my dog about one of my favourite foods. I excited and did zoomies around the packed boardroom. Photobomb! was on cloud nine and Coco slept through the Photoshoot over, we caught the 16 bus to the whole film.

Cameo to watch the audience go in to the first The Golden Spurtle premiered at the official UK screening. A queue formed down Edinburgh International Film festival in the street and we got too hot so sat under a August. It had gone down very well at the tree in Bruntsfield Links. A taxi to Leith, tram Copenhagen and Sydney film festivals, full to Waverley and final train back to Berwickhouses and extra screenings required. The Upon-Tweed marked the end of a very hectic week before EIFF, the official film poster was day. The screenings at Filmhouse and Vue released (see pic) with Coco included. Coco cinemas were also sold out. It was rather the fitness pug, clown, constant companion surreal. The List, The Skinny and Guardian all now also a moofie star! awarded the film an agreeable 4 stars.

A photocall was arranged in the Caledonian

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The film itself? It follows the final year of retiring porridge chieftain Charlie Miller. The beautiful scenery is captured lovingly with a colourful cast of characters, competitors and villagers, warming the heart like a good bowl of oats. It was also totally unscripted, which makes it even funnier. The List review surmises: “The Golden Spurtle is a documentary about porridge, but behind its loving shots of sumptuous oats and gruel-thin misfires is a meditation on ageing, community and the difficult necessity of letting go.”

I love that this film has gone down so well so far, as it has such a positive message for these anxious times. It feels a bit weird writing about a film that me and my dog appear in (for thirty seconds), so I’ll finish with a quote from The Skinny: “This is an incredibly funny film, with most of the comedy emanating from the disconnect between the competitors’ passion for creating the perfect bowl of porridge and the inherent futility of such an endeavour, given that every bowl passed in front of the camera looks identical.” But they taste different!

The Golden Spurtle in Cinemas 12 September, Griffen Studio will livestream the 2025 Golden Spurtle competition. www.goldenspurtle.com Bluesky: @tracygriffen www.griffenfitness.com 7

Reviews

The past is another country For 25 years, Ken Wilson writes, Graydon Carter edited the super-glossy magazine Vanity Fair. Before that, in the late 1980s, he co-founded Spy…

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New York version of Private Eye. Spy had hard news and satirical spoofs. Carter’s memoir When The Going Was Good (Grove Press £20) is a rollercoaster ride through his life in magazine publishing. His stories at Spy are far more interesting than those hobnobbing (and name-dropping) at the Oscars party.

One year-long prank involved setting up a fake company called National Refund Clearinghouse which had its own bank-authorised cheques. The idea was to send cheques to assorted millionaires (TV moguls, celebs, bankers) for the piddling amount of $1.11 and in increasingly insignificant amounts thereafter. Who among the rich would go to the trouble of banking such measly amounts? Well two did for a cheque worth only 13 cents! One was the multimillionaire arms dealer Adnan Khashoggi and the other was Big Apple prime property magnate Donald Trump.

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One 19th century innovation, the department store, called an ‘Adam-less Eden’ by Emile Zola, is now virtually a thing of the past

In the last 10 years the fortunes of Britain’s high streets have changed.

Where once there were ironmongers and newsagents now there are vape shops and nail bars. Once Leith Walk’s fortunes looked imperilled by the seemingly endless tram works.

Now the thoroughfare has the look and feel of a European boulevard although some Leithers miss the more characterful past. The Bookshop, the Draper, the Candlestick Maker by Annie Gray (Profile Books £22) is far more than just the story of shopping.

She calls the high street the beating heart of a city or town although many boarded-up shopping streets today appear to be on life support.

One 19th century innovation, the department store, once called an ‘Adam-less Eden’ by Emile Zola, is now virtually a thing of the past.

The 2008 economic crash, Brexit, the credit crunch, fast fashion, Covid and online home deliveries have all been hammer blows to the high street experience.

‘It’s easy to paint a picture of doom on

British high streets,’ writes Gray, ‘but that’s not completely fair. In any case, if closures outnumber openings – so what. The number of shops has been steadily decreasing since the 1920s.’

Despite recent upheavals, in 2020 nearly 80% of people surveyed said high streets were important to the local community.

Is there a pop act that’s had more words and analysis expended on it than the Beatles? Can there be anything left to say on the genius of Lennon and McCartney? Ian Leslie’s John and Paul (Faber £20) is a revelatory account of the duo’s relationship as friends, rivals and collaborators; their brotherly love and sibling-like rivalry.

The book looks at the pair chronologically through 43 of their songs adding context and colour.

There are musicological insights on how the hits were constructed along with trenchant psychological observations. Take 1968’s top-seller ‘Hey Jude’. Originally ‘Hey Jules’, an ode to Lennon’s son Julian, it is ‘almost unique in the annals of pop: a song sung by a man to a close male friend,’ writes Ian Leslie. ‘[There’s] an obvious precursor, also written or initiated by Paul McCartney: “She Loves You”’.

The Beatles’ songs are akin to old folk music, something sung to us as babies. We might think we know the songs so well they have become bland but careful and considered listening is always rewarding. As Leslie writes about ‘Eleanor Rigby’: ‘its cultural ubiquity has stopped us noticing how strange it is.’

Nostalgia ain’t what it used to be.

Today’s millennials might grow misty-eyed over Beyonce’s first album but for others the ghastly taste of 50 years ago – the 1970s – furnishes their happy place: orange shag rugs, tie-dyed tee-shirts, enigmatic prog rock album covers…

Back in the 70s, a time of three-day weeks and power cuts, people looked back 50 years too to the jollier, lesscomplicated Jazz Age of the 1920s.

Teens in Oxford Bags queued up to see The Great Gatsby film (1974) much as today’s twentysomethings look on the 70s through rose-coloured Lennon granny glasses.

Geoff Dyer’s Homework (Canongate £20) is a tender, touching and very funny memoir of a bright workingclass kid growing up: Airfix models, gloopy dayglo custard, demonic playground bullies, snot-encrusted hankies. Dyer captures well his childhood in the 60s and teen years in the 70s, a period still tinged with clammy post-war austerity.

Bluesky: kenwilson84.bsky.social theleithermagazine.com leithermagazine.com

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The 1980s

Thatcherite Broadband This week, entirely by accident, Tom Wheeler ended up having his monthly TV and broadband bill reduced by over 80%

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hich annoyed me. And not for the first time in my life, I blamed Maggie Thatcher. That probably needs a bit of unpicking. Why would anyone be angry at saving a pile of money?

And what exactly does a broadband bill have to do with someone who stepped down as prime minister in 1990, when the World Wide Web was one year old and my home computer had a green screen and a tape deck?

So just to be clear, it wasn’t the prospect of having more money that made me cross. That, I’ll freely admit, would be insane. But here’s the back story. Many years ago, I signed up for a TV and internet service – most likely dial-up at that point, though I forget.

Through a combination of inflation, arbitrary price hikes and sheer chutzpah, my monthly costs gradually worked their way from hefty to eyewatering. But partly because no single price rise was all that outrageous – and partly because doing nothing is always easier than doing something – I kept on paying them.

When the discrepancy between the money paid and service received finally became too much to ignore, I phoned to cancel. But remarkably – and I suspect you’re ahead of me here – they suddenly found it in their hearts to reduce the bill by well over half. Yes, it was obviously a bribe. But it was quite a big one. I agreed to stay.

So imagine my surprise – and you’ll have to imagine it, because there was no surprise at all – when the prices quickly resumed their tireless hike, until they were roughly back at the point that had led me to cancel in the first place. So naturally, I did nothing – but when a cold caller from a rival company came to the door with a decent bribe of their own, I decided to go for it. Crucially, they said they would deal with all the changeover arrangements themselves, so at least theleithermagazine.com

Thatcher’s greater crime was (quite deliberately) doing nothing to support regions decimated by their loss

I wouldn’t have to speak to another salesperson. Except of course I would.

“Hello, we’re sorry to hear you’ve decided to leave us. I’ll just see if there’s anything we can do to change your mind – oh, it turns out we can offer you…”

Who’d have thunk it? An offer genuinely too good to refuse, despite the obvious farce of the whole process: two years of telly and broadband for twenty quid a month. That would have been a steal two decades ago, never mind now. And this from the same people who would have cheerfully charged me five times that for as long as they could get away with it. So all I’m really doing is clawing back a bit of the money I’ve been overcharged for years - hence why I’m only partly thrilled.

And why Thatcher? Because in so many ways, she started it. Back in the day, I mainly despised her for destroying so many of Britain’s industries. In retrospect, some of those industries were doomed in any case – her much greater crime was (quite deliberately) doing nothing at all to support the cities and regions decimated by their loss. Meanwhile, under the pretext of deregulation and opportunity, she asset-stripped the country. Housing, public buildings,

railways and utilities were subject to a fire sale.

A lot of people got rich as a country got poor. Forty years on, house prices are stratospheric, social housing non-existent, railways hilarious, infrastructure crumbling and CEOs absolutely minted. Tell Sid, they said in the TV adverts at the time. They didn’t say exactly what to tell him.

Granted, Thatcher didn’t personally shape the modern communications industry, but only because it didn’t exist. The model is identical though: take a universal need – communication in this case – contrive some nonexistent competition and present all this as a positive. All people need to do to benefit is constantly monitor price comparison sites for absolutely everything, switch supplier every ten minutes, and threaten to take their business elsewhere to earn a brief pause to the extortion.

And the whole thing is predicated on the assumption that enough people can’t or won’t keep on top of it all, so they can continue to be fleeced while a few others benefit. It’s as tiring as it is unnecessary. And at the risk of sounding like a grizzled old leftie – which wouldn’t be a world away from the truth – I’m calling bullshit.

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Takeaway

populist commentators who see it as emblematic of the metropolitan liberal elite that, they argue, dominates the culture.

Cultural erasure?

Have we reached peak posh coffee?

Charlie Ellis reckons Kul Coffee’s arrival is representative of posh coffee’s seemingly inexorable growth, as well as the social polarities it manifests

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ypified by the now ubiquitous flat white, such ‘specialty’ or ‘artisan’ coffee places have become one of the most identifiable manifestations of urban change and gentrification. Leith is home to a number of Edinburgh’s most renowned coffee spots, Including Artisan Roast, Williams & Johnson, and Little Fitzroy. Is there no end to it?

A design for life

Growing costs

One thing that might put a break on this seemingly inexorable growth is cost. £3.64 is currently the average price for espresso-based drinks in the UK. With the price of beans on the rise, the four quid flat white is coming… soon. However, despite the price of coffee rising, we are buying more of it! According to Allegra World Coffee Portal’s report, more than 6 billion pounds was spent in UK coffee shops in 2024. More than 500 coffee shops opened in the UK last year and it is predicted another 2000 will open by 2030! Clearly we are nowhere near ‘peak coffee’!

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The sense of a city no longer focusing on its long term customers

Social polarisation?

The arrival of new ‘posh’ coffee places doesn’t meet with universal approval. This new coffee culture is embraced by many as something bold and innovative, manifesting creative re-use and enriching the hospitality scene. For others, it’s about what’s been lost and how it’s been replaced. The divergent reactions are a microcosm of wider disputes about our changing city, feeding into a sense of social polarisation.

When entering places such as Kul Coffee, there’s little doubt that the customers represent a specific slice of Edinburgh. Kul’s motto is ‘Where Coffee Brews Community’. However, I’m not sure that all those who live in the area would feel comfortable in such a cool, ultra-minimalist place. It’s as if an invisible force field exists around such places, keeping out certain groups.

Kul’s customers are younger than average. This is characteristic of specialist coffee places, often full of students and Gen Z ‘knowledge workers’, able to take their slim laptops anywhere, as they work in a hybrid or remote fashion. This has led specialty coffee into the crosshairs of

Some of the disquiet raised online about posh coffee connects to wider concerns about the changing character of the city. The political scientists Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart have, in books such as Cultural Backlash, talked about the discombobulating character of rapid social and cultural change.

As Norris put it, ‘many people felt that the things which they took for granted, the things which they regarded as important for themselves in their community and their country, those things were being lost.’ Some see the closure of much loved shops, pubs and greasy spoons as evidence of a form of cultural erasure. However true this may or may not be, it is certainly widely felt.

Gone too far?

One consistent theme in the online reaction to new coffee places opening up is that Edinburgh surely already has enough ‘overpriced coffee shops.’ As noted, there are far more places to get coffee than in the past, ranging from greasy spoons (a declining number), the ‘multi-unit operators’ (the chains), and independents. Have things gone too far?

The argument that we have too many cafes overlooks that the vast majority I visit or pass are busy. As an illustration, the first day I sauntered in Kul Coffee I was struck by the noise; the place was heaving! What drew me in was the abundant sense of energy and the airy spaciousness of the place, but I had to settle for a takeaway (a delicious Columbian, complex and fruity). Only on my third visit, did I get a seat. Peak posh coffee is clearly some way off.

Recurrent themes

Specialty coffee is a marker of social change. Concerns about too many coffee shops rank just below ‘yet more student housing’ and potholes among the recurrent themes in online ‘discourse’ about the city. The city is, some feel, increasingly dominated by ‘student accommodation, hotels, residential areas for rich people and coffees shops’.

This feeds into the sense of the city changing its character, no longer focused on its long-term residents.

Coffee is clearly fuelling much more than just our working days. This includes inciting some of the rancorous debate about the future of the city.

Pippa Norris and Ronald Inglehart’s book Cultural Backlash is available from Cambridge Press £28 theleithermagazine.com leithermagazine.com

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Where the Wild Things Are

Animal Magic/ Animal Tragic A chance encounter with a wild deer in the heart of Leith forces Colin Montgomery to reconsider this zoo called life

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he deer emerged from a vennel twixt the modern flats just opposite Plumbase.

Maybe it was a sign.

No, it was a deer.

Besides, we have enough signs near Sandport Bridge as it stands. A forest of red, yellow and black – they grow prodigiously round nascent cycle paths and other works.

That said, the latter has taken so long to finish, they could be considered an ancient urban forest. So, the errant ungulate was most likely confused.

(Ungulate. Cue flickery hand gestures under chin etc.) Yeah, a bit unnecessary that.

But similarly fancy schmancy moves were to follow from the deer.

It bounded out past a guy in a minidigger, oblivious, reading his redtop.

Fitting. I suspect a wild deer hoofing aboot the heart of Leith would have had the tabloid headline-writers salivating; and many a pun flashed theleithermagazine.com

Colin’s deer proved to be a master of disguise

But similarly fancy schmancy moves were to follow from the deer outside Plumbase

briefly into my mind, as the beast disappeared into the car park. I stopped. Then shouted to digger man: “Did you see that deer?”. Not ‘dear’. He was incredulous. Then, my vindication arrived, galloping back in our direction.

At speed.

It emerged from the row of parked cars like a big-boned Bambi on uppers.

As I turned, in readiness to play matador – I kid you not, I suspected I’d be on the end of a cloven beatdown – so did the workie in the cab of the digger. The deer swerved between us, zig-zagging in that panicky way only confused wild animals can, and clopped into the car park of the flats, where I lost sight of it behind a bike shed. I looked back at the workie, and he gave me a thumbs-up with a grin that said: “A FUCKING DEER, THAT’S MENTAL!” When I walked around the corner, the deer was nowhere to be seen. And I wasn’t going to play Attenborough.

For one thing, I was running late for

work; and for another, I’d left my best tranquilizer dart rifle at home (always the way, eh?). So, I went on my way. But the deer stayed with me afterwards. Not in an overlysentimental way – I have it on good authority that it’s not unusual to see deer in close proximity to wooded areas that skirt urban landscapes. More in that way of being jolted from your waking coma.

By which I mean, when all around is increasingly an ugly human zoo, encountering an uncaged bestial presence - where least expected – is really quite the thing; it has a strange and wonderful incongruity that punctures your festering consciousness like a hot needle lancing a boil. Instant, arresting and, dare I say it, joyous.

Like the first time you ever found a banknote in the gutter. Or perhaps – to lower the tone – finding a pristine porno mag abandoned in the woods, when a sweaty young adolescent.

It made me yearn for more such animal magic round these parts.

To maybe find a giraffe lumbering through the Kirkgate. Zebras on Leith Links. Maybe a big cat even - not the black panther kept in a cage at Fairley’s on the Shore back in the day (which was forcibly removed after supposedly mauling a punter). Then I realised, we have enough menageries. Because, the world is full of animals. Increasingly so, you might say. Yet, sadly, their wildness is without the dignity of that beautiful deer cutting about down the Sandport Street area, one early August morning.

We have the Trumpian chatter of the chimp-in-chief and his coterie over the Atlantic. We have vultures circling the catastrophe of Middle East, daily.

We have the Russian bear rampaging, unchecked. And now, we have pigignorant racism hiding behind ‘three lions’ rhetoric about pride, nationhood and belonging. Oh, and let’s not even start on the ostrich syndrome that blights so many on the progressive left as to how to address all of this – Christ, they can’t even share the same building as people they disagree with.

It makes me wonder aloud if we shouldn’t just bite the bullet and abandon it all to nature once more.

To go full ‘I Am Legend’ on its ass, say cheerio, and clear out. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.

Then our deer friend (pun intended) could roam until its heart’s content around the fields of Plumbase, unmolested by your correspondent or others.

It could even use what was left of the cycle path. Should they ever get around to finishing it. I won’t live to see it.

But one day maybe, one day.

15

Poetry

Holes for Square Poles (An Ode to the Holes On The Leith Water Shoals)

Tim Taylor’s poetry/prose piece for the Archifringe at George Browns on The Shore concerning the mysterious constellation of square holes (138) carved in the paving stones outside Fishers, The Shore Bar and George Browns

O

ne hundred holes And thirty eight more Scattered along the shore At first glance at random Constellated impressions Square shallow holes In sandstone slabbed shoals On the Leith water docks of old Did Mary of Guise Brush past these holes?

Robert the Bruce?

Czar Nicholas II? Mary Queen of Scots?

Andrew Lamb of Lambs House?

King George IV? On his way to the newly built New Town Famed men of pen Boswell and Johnson?

Importers of wine Rannie and Bell?

With bills stacked high Run up by Prince Charlie Sailors laid up in the Seamen’s Hostel Now a hotel for lubbers of land?

And George Brown of course Maker of bicycles, boats and machines Blacksmith and caster

16

Repairer of vessels Degausser of keels Rendered safe from Mines o’ War Did each hole A purpose have?

These small minor holes Centuries old Dells, indents, pixels Made with intent For what?

Enquiry is made Theories espoused Explanations postulated: To hold the ropes Of the tethered boats?

To pin the sails of the tall ships at rest?

Laid out and flayed In the sunshine on Leith Thick yarn in needles Fixing the holes Blasted open at sea “Loud roar’d the blast Aye the southward we fled With masts creaking leaning In horror and dread” Praying they weren’t Splinter’d and smashed By the roaring rolling seas The sailors return to the bar Drunk to be back on dry land Terra Ferma!

Terra Scotia!

Are these Leith’s own hieroglyphs and runes?

Or were they to pin down the mariner Who dared to shoot down the albatross In a doldrum delirium crazed haze?

“God save thee ancient mariner!”

Or the dock-side publican?

Who dared to serve slop From the troughs of his bar To sailors on shore leave Intent no repent The sailors they sing their prayer: “Oh lord above Send down a dove With wings as sharp as razors To slit the throat Of them there blokes That serves bad beer to sailors” theleithermagazine.com

Of far flung lands In place on the shore Sure and steadfast Imports, exports Barrels of Claret Crates of silk Oak lath and flour Butter from Denmark Claret and cloth Sherry and port Iron and malt Pallets of arms Figgets of freight Shored up on the shore By poles jammed in holes Square poles in square holes Chiseled by hand On the Leith shores of yore And where are they now These holes of old?

Silent observers to the footfall of tourists And the general milieu Of everyday Leith Collectors of butts Soil, dirt and dust Masonry debris Windblown sands From the crested waves Of vertiginous dunes Saharan dust Flown thousands of miles to Leith

Or were they to prop up the awnings Of the merchant trading sellers?

Wool, glass and herrings Pieces of cheese Leaving these shores Barrels of booze Arriving in scores The above, all accepted The evidence suggests M’ Lord with respect These diminutive impressions Pixilated depressions Were as and when required Formed by a lad With a hammer and chisel Then fitted with dook Or wedge, poll or peg To hold the goods theleithermagazine.com

Beneath the feet of drinker’s shoes Patiently waiting for their Champagne and food Pale ale and mild Oysters and stout Tick follows tock follows tick follows tock The ghosts of the sailors remain “Here’s to you Ahab!

Here’s to your dream For the sake of hate You spat your last breath Here’s to you! And all who remember your soul” Holes no more filled Except for the occasional Leg of a table Or diner’s stiletto But look!

There is blown On the back of a mistral A seed that has fallen Embedded the infill And within this square hole Watered by clouds Raised from the oceans A miniature oasis of green Blooming Taking hold Daring to dream

Two Edinburgh stores + online shop 37 Broughton Street, Edinburgh EH1 3JU 8 Brougham Street Edinburgh EH3 9JH

architecturefringe.com 17

On the Other Side of the Pond

Emma G. Gallegos

The taxi driver regards us with a mixture of amusement and sorrow.

“There’s four of you?”

Rodger Evans nods…

H

e opens the boot or, in local argot, the trunk and starts to clear some of the fast food and other less identifiable detritus from the front passenger seat.

What doesn’t end up in the trunk is piled to one side and I’m invited to sit down, a decision I come to regret only later when checking the state of the backside of my cream coloured Levi’s.

He drives us the 20 minutes it takes to get from LA’s modern art museum to the Elliott Smith tribute wall on West Sunset Boulevard, all the while maintaining a manic commentary on where else we should visit. I know from the Uber app that his name is Sean, and he’s quick to disclose his Irish roots when he learns we’re Scots, but he could be Otto the school bus driver from the Simpsons. Or at least his twin, the back of his hair looking like a wig attached to that blue baseball hat. During Sean’s entertaining if disconcerting monologue, disconcerting because he shows us pictures on his phone while navigating the six-lane freeway, he mentions his stint as a waiter in Dublin and also that he was a Marine.

We opt not to inquire further about the details of his military service.

We go to a hipsterish café where most of the 20-something customers toil over laptops. This is America for sure but which America? The Amerika with a K, suitably enough, a place of escape imagined but never visited by Franz Kafka for his first novel? The ‘not happy, not contented, not radiant, not fearless’ America ruefully observed by Henry Miller in his memoir The Air Conditioned Nightmare? Or the America venerated in Alistair Cooke’s letters but one seen to veer between ‘its vitality and its decadence’?

When we arrive at LAX a week earlier, the official at passport control could not be nicer were he offering home-made cookies and a jug of iced tea. He discusses forensic qualifications with my wife and jokes with my youngest child about the length of her fingers. It reminds me of visiting Israel for the first time, between intifadas I probably ought to point out, to watch Celtic play 18

This is America but which America?

On the train from Ventura to Union Station, the conductor’s colleague looked decidedly like Deputy Dog

Happel Tel Aviv. I asked the young women behind the glass if she’d mind not stamping my passport and she replied that, as I had asked so nicely, how could she refuse? An unexpected response which might have been helped by the number of guys in front of me asking if she wanted a ticket for the game. I didn’t know the Hebrew word for doll and nor did they but for the record it’s booba. No smirking now.

On our second visit to La La Land, on the train from Ventura to Union Station, the conductor could be Snoop Dog while his colleague on the return leg is decidedly more Deputy Dog. After a less frightening taxi ride, we reached the corner of heaven on Hollywood Boulevard that is Amoeba Music. My middle child chooses a Bob Dylan record before he and the rest of the family depart, gifting me with two more hours in the store. For a store it is. I’m like a diabetic in a sweet shop, or candy store, only this is the largest independent sweet shop / candy store in the world.

Outside, blood sugar metaphor and most of my dollars spent, I have in my head Bobby Womack’s cover of California Dreamin’ because you see I am mostly a literal minded kind of dolt.

I check my phone to find if my loved ones have divorced me yet and take a picture of Robert Mitchum’s star on the sidewalk. Yes, Stephen Malkmus, the sidewalk. I walk a block and a half to see the Capital Records building, “the house that Nat built” as it’s known, given how many copies Cole’s Unforgettable LP sold in 1952. It’s also where Frank Sinatra, Peggy Lee and the Beach Boys recorded some of their greatest tracks.

A few days on, I sip orange wine in a restaurant under the late afternoon sun, the petals falling from the surrounding coral trees of a colour complementing the contents of my glass. The bartender asks where I’m from. Says he’s a musician, a drummer.

No I don’t smirk. He tells me he loves Scottish music and I inquire who his favourite band might be. He says The Jam and I find myself not smirking for a second time. He also mentions the Waterboys and I tell him we used to live in the same tenement – obviously I don’t say tenement – in Abbeyhill where Mike Scott wrote The Whole Of The Moon.

This may or may not be true but America is a land of stories after all and he smiles and tops up my glass. theleithermagazine.com leithermagazine.com

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Issue 151 | leithermagazine.com | 5

The Leith Glutton Amos Karahi

Champany Inn

…Ventures Forth

B

It’s been another packed August: incredulous visitors marvelling at the enormity of the Fringe

espectacled opera buffs attended the real Festival, and locals muttered darkly at map-studying tourists who don’t understand the complex relationship between South Bridge and the Cowgate. Like every resonant cliché, of course, there is a kernel of truth. There really was a lot of tourists in Edinburgh this year – maybe the tram makes it seem so in Leith and the pavements are still pretty narrow. So in August, this glutton likes to hot-foot it out of town.

First stop, just off the bypass at Fairmilehead, the Secret Herb Garden nestles in the gentle swoop of the Pentland foothills.

In summer, this part of town seems warmer, theleithermagazine.com

although the winter snow lies stubbornly when the weather is cold. The café here serves excellent breakfasts, lunches and light meals. Soups, salads and quiches include produce grown on site – effort always to be rewarded – and remember to leave room for cake. The charm is the setting. The tables are dotted through three giant glasshouses, each overflowing with vines, figs, grapes, and other exotic fruits of which we know little here in Leith. It is one of my favourite places to eat south of Princess Street, but frankly that’s not saying much and I am yet to go to Mara’s Picklery in Marchmont; I hear tremendous things.

And so back in the car, we are forced to choose: M8 or M9. We take the road less travelled towards Falkirk, and pull in at the

Champany Inn outside Linlithgow. This is where the 1980s steakhouse vibe has gone to die but, reader, I can report that the patient is showing no signs of decline. Opened by the late South African cook Clive Davidson and his wife over 40 years ago, the same things seem to be going on for ever. The preposterous lobster bar didn’t survive a recent financial crash, but the prawn cocktail clings on, probably unaltered since the doors opened.

The Champany Inn is all about the steaks.

I’ve been on and off for decades. The quality is consistent and the quantity of meat daunting.

Many steaks are cooked on charcoal grills.

I remember, perhaps in the last century, a frilly-aproned waitress offering me a choice of Continued on Page 22

21

The Leith Glutton

The magic of Leith is not that it stays the same Continued from Page 21

fifteen mustards from identical silver bowls.

A faded, framed AA Gill review (it was brutal) is on the wall. Everything about the place screams Gordon Gecko excess. And, however unlikely, it retains a curious, brash charm that you can’t find anywhere else.

And so we are back in the car, zooming over the Queensferry Crossing and heading to Fife. I hear a muttering of bewilderment in the readership as this reviewer announces they are heading to the Kingdom. But there is a lot happening over there, especially on the coast. We have a triumphant pub meal at The Ship Inn in Elie, that little part of Fife that is forever Chelsea. A cricket match on the beach is an unlikely sight in a Scottish local authority famed for having, until recently, the last elected communist councillor in Britain. The struggle takes many forms, and nothing is too good for the workers.

But cricket on the beach is what Elie is known for, and we are accidentally there for the local derby, with the home team lining up against the Earlsferry first eleven. Polo tops and pashminas floated in and out of the sandstrewn bar, ordering local beers, cheering on the innings. When the time came, we were whisked upstairs to a fabulous beach-side table with floor-to-ceiling windows, ready to watch the final over. The menu here is ambitious, and well beyond gastropub levels,

Secret Herb Garden

but the fish and chips hit the spot. As they were bowled out on the beach, we bowled over inside.

One fast bowl northwards, St Monan’s Smokehouse has put that east neuk village firmly on the foodie map. Hot smoked seabass is the signature dish here, served as part of an excellent fish-led menu. The best part: eating on the pier and watching boats glide in. Never mind the cricket, these are working ports that sustain an in-shore fishery community.

Once a month, the Bowhouse Market gathers and pays homage to gluttony. This is a magnet for foodies: producers, sellers, buyers, eaters. It is honestly one the best things about

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living in Scotland. Some travel from far and wide; others have their production there weekround. The on-site butchery is particularly impressive. In season, the best soft fruit in Europe, grown a stone’s throw away, is piled high. “Bowhouse replaces the missing link in our local food chain,” their slogan goes. It is sadly true that fewer and fewer people have a strong link to food production. We have truly lost something. But judging by the thronging car park and bustling market sheds, there is a market for honest food.

Back in the car toward Leith, I get thinking.

I spend a lot of time in Leith; even more so, the more wonderful our diverse community becomes. There are more reasons to eat local, and increasingly fewer reasons to trek into other parts of Edinburgh. Heck, you can even buy Iain Mellis cheese at Gull’s Grocery on Ferry Road. I resolve not to become too smug about our area, however. The wonderful food we can get in restaurants here relies on farmers and producers across the Lothians, Fife, and much further afield.

“Wha’s like us,” is never going to be a motto for Leithers. As the gentrification of Leith powers on with extraordinary abandon, I reflect that we are more connected than we think. The magic of Leith is not that it stays the same, but that it draws on and celebrates different perspectives, people, and cultures.

And there was me thinking I was writing a food column.

The Leither Priceless Issue 167

Defence from the robot threat won’t come from governments, to offer desirous only of what machines have Roberto Bernanos 1947

The Leither Priceless Issue 169 theleithermagazine.com

George Stevens & The Giant in the Room Great Rail Journeys of the World No 1 The Real America Psycho

Editorial: William Gould on 07891 560 338 or editor@theleithermagazine.com

With the shenanigans in full swing up the hill, The Leith Glutton ventures abroad

This is America but which America?

Where the Wild Things Are Thatcherite Broadband

22

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Politics

Tracy Gilbert on her first year as your MP When I first took my seat in Parliament, I was filled with excitement and determination

R

epresenting Edinburgh North and Leith, the place I call home, is the honour of my life.

After twelve months of hard work, learning, and listening, I want to share some reflections on this year and what lies ahead

Getting Started

My focus has always been clear: to bring the voices of Edinburgh North and Leith to the heart of government.

Over the past year, I have built relationships across parties and committees, learned the ropes to pass legislation, and worked to understand the issues that matter most to our community.

Being an MP is about more than debates and votes in Westminster. It is about the day-to-day work: meeting constituents, helping them navigate government services, championing local causes, and delivering change.

Whether it is supporting a family with housing or pushing for better local infrastructure, my office is here for you.

Championing Edinburgh North and Leith’s Priorities Edinburgh North and Leith is a vibrant and diverse community, with a proud industrial past, from the Port of Leith and manufacturing to creative arts, hospitality, technology, and multinational companies like Diageo.

This rich mix of businesses is a real strength, and I am proud to support it every day. We are also seeing exciting growth in film and television studios and theatres, putting Leith on the map as a hub for creative production, adding to our city’s world-class reputation in the arts. theleithermagazine.com

I have strongly advocated for the GB Energy headquarters to be based in Leith, placing our community at the heart of the renewables transition.

This would help tackle climate change, create sustainable local jobs, and position Leith as a leader in the green economy. Over the year, I have campaigned for affordable housing, better public transport, and more investment in local jobs. Too many people in our community face housing insecurity, and I have been vocal about the urgent need for more council homes and tenant protections.

I have raised these issues in Parliament, highlighting Edinburgh North and Leith’s needs in debates and committee meetings. But real change requires partnerships. That is why I work closely with local organisations, businesses, and the council to find practical solutions that make a difference. Working together to deliver growth and prosperity for businesses, reduce poverty, and ensure that all our citizens don’t just survive but can thrive.

Tracy Gilbert: MP for Edinburgh North & Leith

Listening and Learning

Listening has been key to my work.

Whether it is climate change or local schools, I want your voices to be heard loud and clear. Democracy must be accessible to all, and I am fortunate to have been selected to put forward a Private Member’s Bill which, if passed through the Lords, will align absent, online, and proxy voting applications across the UK.

Eradicating Childhood Poverty Tackling childhood poverty has been a core mission. In Parliament, I have pointed out that one in six children in my constituency grow up in poverty, a statistic we must change.

I have pressed the government to consider removing the two-child cap on benefits, a policy affecting 330 households in Leith alone. While it is not a cure-all, removing this cap would relieve financial strain on many families. I have also called for increased investment in affordable housing and employment support. These are vital steps to lift families out of poverty and give children the opportunities they deserve.

Ending Violence Against Girl Ending violence against girls is another issue close to my heart. I recently questioned the Home Secretary on how the government plans to work

with devolved nations to meet targets aimed at reducing violence against women and girls. Violence against women affects children’s life chances; protecting women ensures better outcomes for children. A coordinated UK-wide approach is essential to equip all regions to tackle this pressing problem that is sadly getting worse.

I have also raised concerns about the demand driving sex trafficking, an issue that often goes unseen. Bringing this to light is the first step toward a society where women and girls can live free from fear and exploitation.

Looking Ahead

My focus has always been clear: to bring the voices of Edinburgh North and Leith to the heart of government

While proud of what we have achieved, there is so much more to do. The challenges we face, from economic uncertainty to climate change, require bold ideas and sustained effort.

In the months ahead, I will continue to push for policies that support working families, protect our environment, and invest in public services. Ensuring Edinburgh North and Leith gets the funding it deserves remains my top priority.

If you ever want to get in touch, share your thoughts, or need assistance, please do not hesitate to reach out.

Thank you for your support and for giving me the opportunity to serve our community of Edinburgh North and Leith in Parliament.

25

The Art of Comedy

Lawrence Lettice attempts to tickle the funny bone that makes comedians tick

A

wise man once said that comedy is merely tragedy turned upside down...perhaps he wasn’t far off the truth?

So, whilst glancing over this year’s mammoth Fringe brochure, I arrived at the conclusion that the world is full of would be comedians...though I guess you could make the current occupant of 10 Downing street, an honourable exception.

It’s a funny old game being a comic, and it’s also fascinating and intriguing as to how someone standing alone on a stage and with just a few well-turned phrases and remarks, can make you howl with laughter.

This then beggars the question that has always mystified and puzzled me: Are comedians brains wired up differently to everyone else? For instance, do they see the world from a completely different angle than the rest of us? Or is their ability to constantly cause chuckles viewed as a natural talent, a gift they were born with, or something that is learned, grafted and studied over any number of years.

Then again, the art of comedy comes in all forms and guises. Not all are Ken Dodd style court jesters, as there are mordant comics, cynical comics, slapstick comics, surreal comics & political comics (quite a few notable examples there, I guess!)

As I look back over my childhood and teen years, I recall a number of my old school pals and former work colleagues who could automatically come out with a steady stream of hilarious gags, cutting comedic observations, and blunderbuss insults, that left me helpless with laughter as to how clever they were in any given situation.

So from such modest and humble laughter inducing beginnings, originally developed in a classroom, office, pub or factory floor, can it eventually evolve and grow into later fame & success on stage, TV & radio? Certainly for many a comedian (Billy Connolly and Ricky Gervais instantly spring to mind) that route has proven enormously productive and persuasive.

So with the country presently engulfed in much doom, gloom, despondency and despair, the chance to enjoy a right good belly laugh, was the ideal medicine to be prescribed. Take this year’s Festival Fringe for example, as I decided to see two highly popular comics who 26

Make ‘em Laugh!!

Laurel and Hardy in Hanna-Barbera land, and John Shuttleworth sticker

Combining a razor-sharp wit and acute observational skills, Tam Cowan delivered a masterclass

both enjoy a loyal following, as well as radically contrasting comedic styles.

First up, was Tam Cowan. Who since the 1990s, has become a welcomingly familiar face and voice on radio, TV, theatre stages, newspaper columns, football grounds; whilst not forgetting numerous eating establishments throughout Scotland.

Combining a razor-sharp wit, acute observational skills, as well as firing off gags and one-liners in all directions, he offered up a master-class in old fashioned Scottish comedy patter that was lapped up by an appreciative audience.

Taking pot-shot at Glasgow’s ‘Old Firm’, while demolishing the questionable laughter quota of ‘PC comedy’, this ‘bon vivant’ of the airwaves and local curry houses offered up a joyous performance that left the audience gasping for breath, while gasping for more!

Though his style is never malicious or intentionally cruel, he channels a recognisable benevolent aggression, that stems from a typical, uncomplicated, no-nonsense Scottish working class background, that many could instantly identify with.

Then we come to the comedy character of John Shuttleworth, someone entirely different, but no less

amusing. Much like Steve Coogan’s priceless creation of Alan Partridge, the creator of Mr Shuttleworth is the actor Graham Fellows. Who in a previous life, enjoyed brief pop fame as ‘Jilted John’.

John Shuttleworth arrives fully formed as a mild mannered, cosily familiar Yorkshire suburban family man, with delusions of musical grandeur as an accomplished singersongwriter – complete with his trusty organ. Not quite in the Elton John bracket, one might say. Though his easy going monologues touch upon the dull, the bland and the mundane aspects of everyday life, he manoeuvres through this comfy image with welltimed acerbic observations, accompanied by a high level of devastating wit.

Surprisingly, out of all those musings, what emerges are tales of genuine hilarity.

Looking back, one of the funniest men I ever knew, was my former Leith FM broadcasting buddy, Ricky Callan; while I recall my Dad talking admirably about a man he regarded as hilarious, Edinburgh’s own Alex ‘Happy’ Howden.

In the final analysis, who for me stand tallest in the world of comedy? Why. that is a shoo in…

Mr Laurel & Mr Hardy, of course. theleithermagazine.com leithermagazine.com

Tracy Gilbert MP

Member of Parliament for Edinburgh North and Leith

As your local Member of Parliament, I am here to support you with any issues or concerns you may have. My role is to represent your interests both locally and in Parliament, and I am committed to making sure your voice is heard.

You are always welcome to contact me using the details below.

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Address: 78 The Shore, Leith, EH6 6RA Email: tracy.gilbert.mp@parliament.uk Mobile: 07983 191316

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Ben Macpherson MSP Member of the Scottish Parliament for Edinburgh Northern and Leith Constituency

24 Mitchell Street @Elbe St 0131 285 3459 www.bowlersrest.com “I am here to help and serve all constituents in Edinburgh Northern and Leith.

If you need assistance, or if you would like to discuss any issues or ideas, please contact me or come and see me at one of my monthly Drop-in Help & Advice Surgeries.“

Drop-in Help & Advice Surgeries first Friday of every month 9:30 to 10:30

Royston/Wardieburn Community Centre, 11 Pilton Drive North, EH5 1NF

11:00 to 12:00

West Pilton Neighbourhood Centre, 19 West Pilton Grove, EH4 4BY

15:30 to 16:30

Leith Community Centre, 12A Newkirkgate, EH6 6AD

Email: ben.macpherson.msp@parliament.scot Telephone: 0131 600 0134 @BenMacpherson

BenMacSNP

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www.benmacpherson.scot

The costs of this publication have been met from parliamentary resources. The SPCB is not responsible for the content of external websites.

Live music at The Bowlers Rest: Jazz Mondays, Thursday Originals, Open Mics and Sessions… there’s something for every music lover. Check out our board or socials for full schedule.

Mon-Thu 2–11; Fri 2-12; Sat 12-12; Sun 12-11

Leith Local Place Plan Have your say in the draft to shape the City Plan 2040!

See what Leith said in the first survey, review the draft Place Plan, and stay up to date through the QR code/link here.

www.ealaimpacts.co.uk /leith-place-plan

Fill out survey 2 here and tell us what you think! https://form.jotform.com/ 252313217116041

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Deadline fo r responses to the draft is 7th of October 2 025!

On behalf of Leith Harbour and Newhaven Community Council, Leith Links Community Council, and Leith Central Community Council.

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Community Councils

Newhaven, a place divided When I was a bairn I knew the boundaries of the village I lived in within the city of Edinburgh, remembers Dr George A Venters

W

hen Leith Dock Commission started reclaiming land during the war those of us living on the eastern edge of the village had a huge area where we could play in what we called the “Eckie” (Extension) by the time it finished. So we saw the makings of a greater Newhaven rising from the sea before our eyes.

The only time I can remember a boundary mattering to us was when we went marauding into Leith to steal wood for our bonfires to celebrate the end of the war. However they began to matter for real after the introduction of Local Government (Scotland) Act 1973, and Community Councils (CCs) were established as a statutory tier of local democracy.

Their purpose, as defined by the Act, is ‘to ascertain, co-ordinate and express to the local authorities for its area and to public authorities the views of the community which it represents...’

This legislation was enacted more than 50 years ago by a UK Conservative Government that Scotland never voted for. It was designed to give power to as many Tory councils as could be gerrymandered into existence by the prevailing Conservative government.

Community Councils were set up as an attempt to promote public engagement with the new councils on a voluntary basis. Generally you can recruit well motivated volunteers trying to do the best for the community they live in, so Community Councils came into existence and are still functioning after a fashion thanks to the commitment of a variety of committed volunteers. But they never have had executive power.

How effective they are, depends on their relationship with the various Council committees and statutory authorities. What has emerged in Edinburgh over the years is a mixtermaxter of Community Councils. While theleithermagazine.com

Chancelot Mill

Kids playing in ‘the Eckie’ in the early 1970s would see this building begin to tower above them…

some on the list are readily recognisable well established locations as former villages engulfed by Edinburgh’s expansion such as Colinton and Newhaven, others seem to have been defined by drawing a line on the map, e.g. West Pilton and West Granton.

There is the possibility of establishing 47 of them in Edinburgh and the scheme was confirmed as operating by the council after review in September last year despite their fundamental flaws, the most basic being the lack of definition of what should comprise a community council and their lack of executive power to get things done.

To make things happen, Community Councils have to rely on the interest and advocacy of whatever local councillor (if any) attends the meetings. Over the years it seems that, at best, they provide a one-way street from councils and statutory authorities to be able to tick the box of consulting with the public on proposals coming their way.

From Newhaven’s perspective they have been ineffectual in achieving much needed improvements in the village. Despite it being the City’s front door to cruise and other seaborne visitors it has been consistently deprived of investment to maintain the fabric and appearance of the village to the extent that it has been described in one travel website as ‘looking like a second rate housing scheme’ though the residents have been working hard over many years to improve the environment. Certainly, substantial investment seems to be occurring in adjacent council areas to the east and west of the village.

Nor is it properly keeping the residents in the loop regarding developments that matter and are imminent. One of the local councillors who sits on the traffic committee was not informed in advance of a three year through traffic closure of and to a key artery into the village. Communication failures seem to be endemic between council officers and departments and us, the people, have failed. We have to improve matters. th As of 25 March 2025 the council divided the Council representation of the area into two parts in adjacent community councils without speaking to the people. To us it makes no sense and we oppose it.

There is hope.

Recently the council produced a booklet called Edinburgh, the Learning City. The advice it gives and the approach it takes is very much coming from and based in the people themselves. We think that this is the right way to go. We are developing an activist approach in which committed people see what the community needs and are prepared to lead efforts to meet them.

We are setting up the ‘Newhaven Action Group’ as a specific committee of Newhaven Heritage. It has the simple remit of “making Newhaven a better place to live” and be led by the residents themselves.

We are happy to discuss with anyone how to set it up and make it work to create a better Newhaven and City.

Facebook: NewhavenHeritageCentre Flickr: Phil Gyford 29

Crossword No.144 DELI • CATERING • DELIVERY

COFFEE WRAPS, BREAKFAST, COFFEE SALAD, TOASTED WRAPS, COFFEE

Supplied by leithlinks.co.uk

DELI • CATERING • DELIVERY

DELI • CATERING • DELIVERY

MONDAY-FRIDAY 8AM–4PM SATURDAY 9AM–4PM SUNDAY10AM–3PM

Click & Collect @ embodeli.co.uk Click & Collect @ embodeli.co.uk

Sit in @ 29 Haddington Place, Sit in @ 29 Leith Walk Haddington Place, Leith Walk

Click & Collect @ Across embodeli.co.uk

Sit in @ 29 Haddington Place, Annoy one right and back to the gallery (8) Right in moorland, ingrate!Leith (6) Walk

1 5 10 If force of wealth is confusing, you may turn to him (7,2, 3,3) 11 Lit, editing out (7) 12 Pot pain with flair (7) 13 Crash scary din but not F1 (8) 15 City on the turn (5) 18 Not here partly true (5) 20 Herb lets out gossips (8) 23 Create urge where bells are found (7) 25 Discusses bed seat perhaps (7) 26 Band with Tories on board, see 10 (15) 27 Express contempt in sadder idea (6) 28 Pagans grill birds (8)

Mon-Fri 8am–3pm Mon-Fri Saturday 8am–3pm 9am–4pm Saturday 9am–4pm Mon-Fri 8am–3pm Saturday 9am–4pm

Down 1 2 3 4 6 7 8

Symbolic veneration 198!? (6) Ref in cane thrashing so needs more lolly (9) Cattily scratched understood (7) Tried out beat (5) Lo! Thane drunk but not on this (7) Fire licensee in from old time (5) Last of the Mohicans and first of Dakota seen from a distance (8) 9 Teetotal in deep snow? (3-5) 14 Atmosphere of a doctor with confused niece (8) 16 What waiter has to do and DJ needs (9) 17 Part beast “rip”, pedestrian left naked (8) 19 At bath I splashed around in my home (7) 21 Indicated vice den perhaps (7) 22 Shown to their seats by decapitated drug dealers (6) 24 Two notes stated sun (5) 25 Twist caned! Yes! (5)

Send your entries to

editor@theleithermagazine.com 30

Answers crossword 143 Across 1 notables 5 though 10 the daily express 11 everton 12 griddle 13 assentor 15 radii

18 realm 20 puddings 23 legends 25 recital 26 internationally 27 nodule 28 released

Winner: Ivor Normand, Edinburgh Down 1 nutter 2 the red sea 3 beastie 4 ellen 6 happier 7 upend 8 hysteria 9 beggared

14 tapas bar 16 digitalis 17 trillion 19 mineral 21 incense 22 slayed 24 gated 25 rhine theleithermagazine.com leithermagazine.com

2 bed flat, Duplex 24, The Engine Yard, Leith Walk.

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2 bed maindoor flat, 54 Shrubhill Walk.

Fixed Price £345,000

2 bed fourth floor flat, 5/43 Shrubhill Walk.

Fixed Price £350,000

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