The south-west coast and Galloway hills are remarkably well hidden up to this point; the eagle-eyed will have spotted the mouth of the Solway Firth driving along the A75 near Annan and Dumfries itself (population - as big as Bedford, just) has Criffel, in the background, to impress newcomers. You can see Criffel on a clear day from the M6 in Lancashire. I expect that there are a lot more family holidaymakers who make the journey to that part of the county than venture this far west. South of Dumfries are beautiful and touristy places such as New Abbey, Carsethorn, Kirkbean, Southerness, Sandyhills, Kippford, Palnackie, Rockcliffe, Auchencairn, Dundrennan and eventually the sublime Kirkcudbright. The fact that you've probably never heard of any of these places is something of a tragedy. Imagine the Lake District but bigger, quieter, dog-friendly and with more variety... Oh and when I say 'touristy' what I mean is there's more people wandering around aimlessly or in some cases, ponderously.
The thing is, you never quite realise how jaw-droppingly stunning the place is until you reach Gatehouse. You're driving along on a reasonable road with the Southwest Scottish countryside all around you when you reach the brow of a hill, what follows is an apex of visual pleasure. Sitting to the left of the A75 is Fleet Bay, which opens out into the Solway Firth. You can see sandy beaches, small islands and islets nestling in the sun-kissed bay and look right and you can see Gatehouse nestling in the foothills of the Cairnsmoor of Fleet, the southernmost hills of the Galloway Forest Park and directly in front of you is where these two converge. I rarely do that drive now without the word 'wow' slipping from my lips.
Three miles further along and you're driving along the edge of the hills with the sea 50 feet below you. Off to your left is your destination, only 3 miles away as the crow flies, but still another 20 by road and usually that would bother me, but the stretch of the A75 between between Carsluith and Newton Stewart is possibly the best stretch of road along the entire A75 (you can see the traffic travelling along it if you stand in Wigtown Harbour and look east) - you have buena vistas wherever you look and the contrasts between your left eye and your right are, at times, mindblowing.
The journey from Newton Stewart to Wigtown is also quite staggering, a view I've often said whether I'm driving south or north is one I'll never ever get tired of. Driving down to Wigtown you have the Machars on your right, but your gaze is often drawn left to where you have already been. Where you drive along the foot of the Galloway Hills past Creetown, Palnure and Blackcraig you are more than aware of the towering presence of the Cairnsmoor, when you drive in the opposite direction on the other side of the Cree it is a backdrop rivalled by few places in the entire United Kingdom.
Wigtown is a town - a Royal Burgh to be precise - but to anyone from urban Britain it looks and feels like a large village. Just 1000 people live here, yet it is steeped in history and is home to Scotland's version of Hay-on-Wye. There are two garages, three if you count my neighbour's workshop. It has a primary school, a Co-op, a butcher, eight bookshops, an engraver/picture framing/stationary place, a community shop, a pub, a restaurant/hotel/pub, two antiques shops, four cafes (one specialising in vegan, vegetarian and GF), two nurseries (the plant variety), a tourist information centre, a print shop, a sewing shop, a medical centre and a pharmacy, the 'Biggest Little Shop in the World' - run by our own OBE recipient (a man known as Scad), a couple of knick-knack shops, a small pet shop, a Town Hall with library, very clean public toilets, the Festival shop and a post office/newsagents. There are other things going on - The Craft holds an alternative market once a month; there's a Saturday market, which runs between Easter and October, in the town square.
We've just been to our second Wigtown Food Festival and witnessed our second Riding of the Marches - we couldn't really miss it - over 100 horses rode past our house (just as I was taking the dogs out - which was 'fun'). We might only be 100 metres from the 'town centre', but out of my office window is mainly fields (because we actually live on the outskirts of town) and the tradition is for the riders to walk the perimeter of the town (although this has changed in recent years so that other parts of town can watch).
The last week, the first of Scottish kids' summer holidays, has been full of events for families, children and adults. The word 'festival' is used a lot up here; we have the Book festival, the Food one and the Wigtown Festival, which is essentially an exercise in unifying an already friendly community. There's everything from a hanging basket competition, to poetry contests, games, bat walks, treasure hunts, educational things outside of a school room and events for the kids that incorporates nature with mindless fun.
There's the Wigtown Show, which takes place on the first Wednesday in August. For the last two years the attire du jour should have been scuba gear, but this part of Scotland had seen record amounts of rainfall in the last couple of years, so much so young mothers were worried about bairns being born with webbed feet. The show is a celebration of our rural life - it's about the farms, the livestock, the local delicacies, craftsmen and it's embraced by thousands of people, whatever the weather. In two weeks it'll be our second one and the long range weather forecast isn't for rain, which, would be nice.
The book festival comes along in September, at a time when the minuscule tourist trade is beginning to dry up. It divides opinion in many of the worst ways, because while it saved this glorious town with its 1862-built Town Hall that sticks out like the Eiffel Tower it also created some of the divisions I've heard of in the 12 months I've been here. The book festival brings about 30,000 extra people to the town over a ten day period. I missed a chunk of it last year because I had been ill, but apart from the odd car parked in front of our house, I saw little evidence that it creates the kind of havoc the locals talked of; but I'm a towny and what locals might think is an inconvenience, I probably still view it as interesting.
My reservations with the book festival are two-fold. I don't think it is particularly ambitious and I don't believe it does enough to reward the townsfolk. I'm friends with some of the bookshop owners here and I try to avoid discussing the festival with them because, I'm new here and I don't want to fall out with people especially over any radical ideas I might have and the often caustic way I have of delivering ideas. The thing is, the biggest gripe I've heard from Scottish people in town is while the 'festival' expects the town to ensure it's a success, the 'festival' is loathe to reciprocate. I know that during that 10-day period, a lot of the shops, owned or run by local people have their busiest times of the year (and this is a good thing), but it appears to be through no help from the 'festival'.
To give you a basic example; there appears to be an expectation from the 'festival' for local businesses to be as accommodating as possible, but if one of these local businesses asks for something as simple as a plug or help with promotion (which ultimately would be of the benefit of the attendants of the festival), the 'festival' couldn't possibly do that, not without those businesses contributing fiscally to the festival. It does appear to be a case of you scratch our backs and we'll ignore you.
The problem appears to be that the people responsible for the festival are very set in their ways and seem to object to or simply reject outside suggestions. As someone with a background that might possibly be beneficial to such an event, I want to be able to try and make the festival beneficial to everyone in the town, not just the people who feel they own it. However, I have done nothing because I've not been here long enough; maybe when someone asks me I'll be able to see it from a different perspective.
However, those things aside, if you look at what this small place has you can understand why it still thrives during the dark winter months (that aren't any longer than they were in Northampton, if truth be told).
The last year, until May, was blighted by rain (and wind, but mainly rain). As I said, after years of above average rainfall, a couple of unexpected floods in neighbouring Newton and a seemingly endless winter. Plants died; essential repairs were needed and the sun seemed reluctant to come out more than fleetingly. We began to get to the stage where we needed the sun's fan dance to be more revealing. May threatened to come alive, but the temperatures were held at bay, yet spring couldn't wait any longer and when the fine weather turned to awesome weather every day felt a little like Christmas. 'I didn't move here for the weather' has been my motto since we moved here, but the truth is, it was. A good constant circulation of air, which has so little pollutants in it and living near the coast can and largely have been a bonus and while I feel as though I've been ill a lot (3 times in 12 months), I think the first two were definitely down to acclimatisation and the last one (despite the last dregs hanging around) seems to have cleared up in record time (he says, tempting fate like a carefree rapscallion).
Obviously, some work I could do and enjoy would be nice, but I'd take simply something I can do because it would be nice to earn a few bob for a few more years to ensure we have more for the coming Armageddon. Plus, the dilemma of trying not to say too much or push an issue too far has prevented me from pursuing any ideas I've had, because there is a change has to be a very gradual thing here unless it is going to instantly change lives. You can see that in the confused suspicion some people have of vegetarians or the lack of imagination in menus or promotion of businesses. Plus, if you are a plumber or an electrician and you're reliable and good, you could probably make a fortune up here, if you were prepared to have a customer based with a 50 mile radius of your home - possibly wider. The number of people we've met since we've been here who have struggled for specific tradesmen has been disproportionate to anything else, by that proverbial country mile.
Our house is still a few years away from how we'd be totally happy with it, but it's strange living in a much bigger house. More rooms when you're as forgetful as me is, if nothing else, extra exercise. The garden, not so much because we've always had reasonably large back gardens, but even the new one is considerably bigger than our last place. It is also well established, had well-documented drainage problems, and we're still finding as much fuck-wittedness from the previous owners outside as we have inside.
We have pleasant neighbours - on both sides now - and we're on speaking terms with all three families that back onto our garden. I still think the BT exchange building, directly in front of the house is the worst thing about living here, but I can prance naked in front of an un-curtained window with no chance of anything human seeing me outside of working hours, so it has its plus points. I'm doing a regular pub quiz at my local bar and that is proving to be quite popular and the wife is volunteering for stuff while simultaneously looking for what few jobs she can even apply for.
We do a weekly pub quiz at the Bruce Hotel - the place we stayed in the weekend we first looked at this house - and Taken Up the Merrick is as successful as Squonk! was in Northampton, but wins considerably less money. In fact, we've integrated quite well and my brother-in-law's concern - "How long before you fall out with everybody?" - hasn't come to fruition. I've fallen out with a psycho from London, because she's a psycho and I occasionally wonder if I'm a bit too 'Phil' for some people at times, but I also moved here to be myself and to not feel as though life is a competition or a contest of some kind and Marmite and all that.
We've rediscovered the art of getting drunk. I believe I have regressed to a stage ill-befitting of my stature and age, but I give zero fucks. We've had new potatoes, beetroot and lettuces from the garden; alpine strawberries grow all over our garden and the old boy's knot weed no longer seems as apocalyptic as it did. Urgency has disappeared; roadworks don't irritate and there's no school runs or background noise. The truth is after 12 months there is very little I would change and very few things I would tweak.There are many things that make me laugh and smile and that's good because I want to be as happy as I can for the rest of my life and by coming here I did something about it...
Come up and see us sometime; you can lose yourself and everyone else very easily.
