Happy St Andrews Day

Who was St Andrew?  St Andrew was the brother of Simon Peter and was the first of the Apostles to follow Jesus.  He and Peter were invited to be "fishers of men" and after Jesus's crucifixion Andrew travelled along the coast of the Black Sea, preaching the Christian message.

This, predictably, didn't go down well with the pagan Romans, or the Emperor Nero.  Roman soldiers captured Andrew and crucified him at Patra, Greece on November 30th, AD 60, or so tradition has it.  Legend also says that St Andrew did not consider himself to be crucified on the same shape of cross as his Messiah and asked to be crucified on a crux decussata, the x-shaped cross that is now known as the Saltire.

Andrew is regarded as patron saint of fishermen, fishmongers and ropemakers.  He is also patronn saint of the Ukraine, Romania, Russia, Sicily, Greece, Cyprus, Barbados, Prussia and, of course, Scotland.

Scotland?  Yes, Scotland.  Although he never set foot in Scotland when he was alive, some of the bones of the saint were brought over to Scotland centuries ago.

Many hundreds of years ago a holy man named Rule lived in Patras in Greece.  One night an angel came to Rule in a dream and told him to "sail unto the ends of the Earth."  St Rule gathered some companions together and set sail.  He sailed round the coast of Spain, round the coast of France, and he was sailing round the East Neuk of Fife, still with no sign from God, when suddenly his prayers were answered and a great storm arose, and he was shipwrecked onto the shore in St Andrews Bay.

However, no sooner were Rule and his companions out of one danger, than they had landed in another, for, there, at the top of the shore, stood King Angus and his companions, ready to swoop down and plunder whatever they could.

Just then an angel rolled back the stormclouds and a great white cross slashed itself across the clear blue sky.  At that time there was no RAF station at Leuchars; no flying machines to make vapour trails.  There was no natural, rational explanation for this.  King Angus and his companions were so amazed that they dropped to their knees and converted to Christianity on the spot.  King Angus going further and granting a parcel of land to St Rule and his companions; land where the cathedral now stands, and there the relics stayed for many years until, during the Reformation, for safety's sake, they were moved, first to St Leonard's Hospital, which later became St Leonard's school.  They were then moved to the bishop's castle, but then they disappeared, and it's now believed that they lie somewhere within the vaults of the Vatican.

During medieval times St Andrews town was as important a place of pilgrimageas any other in Europe.

St Columba was originally regarded as the patron saint of Scotland, but in 832 AD, on the eve of the battle of Athelstaneford, King Angus II prayed for victory and declared that if his heavily-outnumbered forces won the following day he would declare St Andrew to be patron Saint of Scotland.

Next morning when the troops readied themselves for battle a huge white cross appeared over them in the sky, and the battle was won.

St Andrew's day has been an official bank holiday in Scotland since 2006 and is our national day when we celebrate all things Scottish.  Details of celebrations in St Andrews can be found at
http://standrewsfestival.org/

The Kingdom of Fife is beautiful in any weather; which is just as well considering the amount of rain that we've had this summer.  Last weekend I was out distributing leaflets for the Original St Andrews Witches Tour, and I found this scene in the town.  It was the weekend of the Big Tent Festival, Fife's eco-festival.

So, given that this month's #scotlandhour on Twitter is a discussion about Scotland's festivals, I thought it might be useful for visitors to Fife (and, indeed, Fifers themselves to be aware of just how many festivals the Kingdom hosts.

In January Burns Night is celebrated on the 25th with whisky, haggis and the Bard's poems.  Cupar in Fife is reputed to be the largest Burns' Club and there is a waiting list to attend their Burns' Night, but many hotels in Fife host Burns' Night celebrations that anyone can attend.

For music-lovers the Fife Jazz Festival is celebrated in many of the Kingdom's towns.  This year it was held on the 3rd to the 5th of February.

The Snowdrop Festival in Cambo lets you celebrate the joys of Spring in February and March, while March is also the time for St Andrews famous StAnza Poetry Festival and the relatively new St Andrews Golf Festival.

St Andrews Student Arts Festival "On the Rocks" was on 16-22nd April this year, and Crail Food Festival is held in June, as is the East Neuk Festival.  Further south in Fife, the Culross Festival is also held in June.

July brings T in the Park and St Andrews Inside Out Theatre and Outdoor Performance Festival which is held on the streets of St Andrews on July 27th - 29th.

Pittenweem's famous Arts Festival takes place on the 28th July - 5th August and, for those who love traditional Scots music the Auchtermuchty Festival takes place on the weekend10th - 12th of August. Dunfermline's Bruce Festival on the 25th -26th of August is a great famly event celebrating the town's history.

Autumn brings the new St Andrews Voices Festival which takes place on the 18th -21st October, and, of course, we on the Original St Andrews Witches Tour go a little crazy celebrating Halloween in October (and all year round for that matter)

The St Andrews Festival takes place on the 30th November to the 2nd December and marks the start of the lead up to the Festive season and, of course, Hogmanay, and if that lot hasn't tired you out, the cycle begins again with Burns Night the next year.

Oh, and who could forget the Highland Games that take place throughout the summer?  Ceres in Fife holds the oldest free Highland Games in Scotland.

I hope this helps you plan your visit to Fife so that you can see and experience some of what the Kingdom has to offer.

You may find details of other festivals elsewhere in Scotland if you check out #scotlandhour on the last Wednesday of the month on Twitter

June, Jubilee and Jubilations

"Ne'er cast a clout till May be oot."  That's what the old wives' tale says.  The May in question is the Hawthorn blossom and not the month, but both are still safely out now.  Very few people have cast any clouts, though; with the exception of a couple of weeks, this summer has been cold and wet.

Our Queen's Diamond Jubilee was a happy weekend, but mostly overcast or raining, and now the second big celebration of the summer approaches.  Yes; the 2012 Olympics.  Although London is a little remote from here the Olympic flame has been making its way through Scotland for the past few days and today it came into Fife.

The pictures here show ordinary people in an ordinary street in Cupar welcoming the flame as it enters the town.  No grandees, no grand speeches; just people of all ages showing goodwill and welcoming the flame as it makes its way towards the Olympic Stadium in London 

 These last three pictures are reproduced by kind permission of Karen Nichols of Scotia Heritage tours and show the torchbearers, 15-year-old Sula Powell and 20-year-old Lee Goodfellow.

The Martyr and the May Dip

Patrick Hamilton was the first Scotsman to be martyred in St Andrews.  Born in 1504, he was the son of Sir Patrick Hamilton and Catherine Stewart, the daughter of Alexander, Duke of Albany who was the son of King JamesII of Scotland.

In 1517, when he was only 13 years old, young Patrick Hamilton became titular abbot of Fearn Abbey in Ross-shire.  This brought him enough income to study at the University of Paris, where he became a Master of Arts in 1520 and returned to Scotland in 1523.

In 1524 he was admitted to the faculty of arts in St Andrews university, and became preceptor of the cathedral, performing a musical mass of his own composition there. 

However, while he had been in Europe, he had been greatly influenced by the teachings of Martin Luther, and his own preaching betrayed signs of Luther's influence.  This came to the attention of Archbishop James Beaton, who ordered that Hamilton should be formally tried for heresy in early 1527.

Patrick Hamilton was urged to leave the country by his friends, and fled to Germany, but, having been inspired again by Luther while in Europe, he returned to Scotland again in the autumn of 1527.  Archbishop Beaton heard of his return, but allowed him to come back to St Andrews and encouraged other members of the university to spy on him and gather proof of his heretical beliefs.  After all, it didn't make sense to condemn the grandson of the king without incontestable evidence.

Patrick Hamilton was seized for heresy and sentenced to death by burning.  At noon on the 29th February 1528 he was tied to the stake in front of the gates of St Salvator's quad, and his pyre lit.  Unfortunately, his executioners were inexperienced and used green wood for the fire.  This wood that was still not dry enough to give the fire a strong heart, combined with a strong wind blowing down North Street, meant that while the fire set the cowl of Friar Campbell, his betrayer, ablaze, it did not burn fiercely enough where Patrick Hamilton stood.

As a result of this, it took Patrick Hamilton six hours to die.  Crowds had gathered on North Street to watch the execution, and were sickened by what they saw.  It is said that "the reek of Patrick Hamilton infected all it blew on."

Over the years and centuries that followed, a strange face appeared on the wall above the site of the execution.  It's believed that this face represents Patrick Hamilton, and was put there when his soul collided with the tower in its haste to reach Heaven.

Centuries later, the initials "PH" were set into the cobblestones to mark the place of his execution, and students try to avoid stepping on these initials because, if they do, it's considered an "academic sin" which means they'll never graduate.  The only way that they can absolve themself of this academic sin is to get up before dawn on Mayday morning, strip down to their underwear, and run into the North Sea until it's over their heads.  This is something they do every year in the May Dip.

Hangman's Lane

I was a very gullible child and my extended family took great joy in telling me stories; some factual; some, to say the least, far-fetched.

My Aunt Nancy worked as a nurse at Stratheden Hospital during World War Two.  The work was hard and the hours were long, but she was young, single and attractive and, like her friends, usually had enough energy for a dance or party on her day off.

One Friday night Nancy went to a dance in the village with her then boyfriend.  They quarrelled and she stormed out of the dance and set out to walk home.

The moon cast enough light to see by and she decided to take the shortcut down Hangman's Lane to reach the main road to Cupar.  As she walked along, her temper subsided and she began to notice the landscape around her.  Trees cast long-fingered shadows across the road.  Dry leaves rattled in the breeze.  An owl hooted then floated out in front of her like a ghostly shadow.

Nancy began to wish that she hadn't flounced out of the dance alone.  A cow coughed behind the hedge and, suddenly panicked, Nancy started to run, stumbling on the uneven ground.

A cloud blew across the moon and suddenly the world was plunged into darkness. A rabbit screamed somewhere close by and Nancy's nerve broke.  She ran twice as fast as before until speed made her careless and she caught her foot and fell forward.

Thoroughly un-nerved and in pain from a twisted ankle, Nancy cast blindly around for something to help her stand.  Her left hand made connection with a tree trunk.  Touching something as reassuringly solid as the rough bark calmed her a little.  She dragged herself on to her knees and used the tree for support while she got to her feet and tried to catch her breath.

The leaves above her head rustled.  There was a noise like branches rubbing together and as Nancy stood listening the noise intensified and its rhythm increased.  She tried to think rationally.  The wind.  The wind must be getting stronger.  Then she realised that the wind had dropped.  What was moving the leaves and the branches?

Panicked again, she stepped forward blindly with her hands outstretched.  Her fingers touched something that felt like fabric.  Something was dangling from the tree; something that smelled of mould and rotting leaves.  The moon slipped out from behind the cloud and she could see.

Yes she could see, but she could never bring herself to describe the horror of the figure that dangled from the tree limb.  She screamed in fear and fainted dead away.  Her friends found her lying under the Gallows Tree speechless with fright when they returned from the dance.

I never could persuade Nancy to show me which tree was the Gallows Tree.  She refused to walk down Hangman's Lane for the rest of her life, even in daylight.

It's Graduation Week in St Andrews.  From now until Friday proud families will watch their grown-up children have degrees conferred upon them from the oldest university in Scotland.  How strange to think that, but for warring kings and squabbling clerics, it might have been a few centuries more before Scotland decided that it needed a university at all.

Centuries ago Scottish students travelled to England and the Continent to study, but in 1296 the Wars of Independence began.  Less Scots went to England to study, going instead to universities in France, Italy or Spain.

Then, in 1378 Pope Gregory X1 died and the Roman Cardinals elected Bartolomeo Prignano, Archbishop of Bari, to be Pope Urban V11.  They quickly regretted their decision when the new pope proved himself to be suspicious, overbearing and in possession of an uncontrollable temper.  Before the end of the year the majority of those who had elected Urban no longer supported him.  Another election was held and Robert of Geneva was elected as Pope Clement V11.  So now there were two popes.  Urban V1 remained in Rome while Clement V11 establishes a rival Papal Court in Avignon.  This was the start of what came to be known as the Western Schism.

Urban was supported by the Holy Roman Empire, Denmark, Flanders, Hungary, Northern Italy, Norway, Poland, Sweden and England.

Clement was supported by France, Aragon, Castile, Leon, Cyprus , Burgundy, Savoy, Naples and Scotland.

By 1394 both of the original popes had died, but the Schism deepened.  Boniface 1X had been elected Pope in Rome and Benedict X111 in Avignon.  When Boniface 1X died in 1404 the Roman cardinals offered to refrain from electing a new pope if Benedict X111 would resign.  Benedict did not agree to this, even though France withdrew its support and tried to pressure him into resigning.  Scotland still supported Benedict, and so the only universities now open to Scots students were in Spain.

St Andrews monastery has been known as a place of learning for many years and in the early 15th century masters and doctors returning from France gathered in the town and started teaching with the support of James Bisset, Prior of St Andrews and Thomas Stewart, the Archdeacon.

On the 25th February 1412 Bishop Henry Wardlaw formally incorporated members of this school as a "university".  It could not, however, grant degrees.  The authority to do that could only be granted by the Pope or the Holy Roman Emperor.  The Holy Roman Emperor did not agree with Scotland's choice of pope and so Benedict X111 was approached on behalf of the school and the Church of St Andrews and also the King and the Estates.  Benedict needed to keep the support of Scotland, and so on 28th August 1413 issued the Papal Bulls which established St Andrews as Scotland's first university.

The Bulls arrived in St Andrews in February 1414 to great celebration in the town, and many events are planned for celebration of its 600th anniversary in 2014.
                                                                               

The most famous recent graduate of the University of St Andrews is, of course, Prince William, but the university has been responsible for the education of many mathematicians, writers, scientists, psychologists and journalists.... and, of course, Malcolm, who has left his mark on the left-hand side of the gateway into St Salvator's Quad.

Summer... or very nearly

It's June.  The students have finished their exams and gone home for the long vacation, leaving the town to its citizens and the ever-present golfers.  Fulmars roost and squabble on the cliff ledges or soar out over the waves that roll up onto the West Sands.  No children play there, busily occupied with buckets and spades.  No parents husband coffee from a thermos, brush sand from sandwiches or make the trip to the beach cafe for ice cream or crisps.

The large houses along The Scores stand quiet within their garden walls.  The largest of them all, the castle, waits patiently for a new coachload of tourists to explore its history or perhaps venture down into the darkness of its mine and counter-mine.

Flowers spring up along the clifftops of the Kirkhill leading to the cathedral, and boats wait for the turn of the tide in the harbour below.

People still go about their business on the pavements of the cobbled streets.  Shops, pubs and restaurants still fill and empty with the ebb and flow of customers, but overall there is a sense of waiting.

At the end of next week, fourth-year students and their families will return for graduation.  The hotels and guest-houses in the town will fill.  There will be graduation meals and celebrations and then the graduates and their proud parents will return home to another life.

St Andrews is always here, however, in rain and wind and storm; in snow and in sunshine.  In the week following graduation Scottish schools will begin their summer holidays.  The West Sands and the East Sands will be populated by families, no matter what the weather.  Golfers will still clatter along the streets pulling bags of clubs behind them and tourists and cadies will drink together in the bars and discuss the day's game; because it's summer... or, very nearly