Published: 07/06/2007 00:00
Bugle reader and Black Country poet Robbie Kennedy Bennett recently took a trip north of the border to re-connect with his Scottish ancestral roots. This is the tale behind the inspiration for his walk along the Firth of Forth and the balance between his Scots blood and Black Country upbringing:
"In the early spring of 2007 I was feeling the desire for a new challenge while there was still enough life left in me, having past my 53rd birthday. My football and marathon running days were well past because of dodgy, ageing knees - a medical verdict a few years back described the problem as "excessive wear and tear". By now life had moved on from my competitive sporting days and my wife Lynne and I were now grandparents, for the first time, to Aaron Steven Bennett, born in late March.
"All my sporting years had been based in the Midlands and I prided myself on running many of the local marathons in the mid 1980s. The Wolverhampton Marathon was on my calendar a few times, as were Sandwell and Birmingham. Many roads around the Black Country were in my training programme and my "A-Z" at the time was marked out with mile marks for my reference.
"In recent years the Black Country Bugle has printed a number of my poems about my affiliation with the region, the most recent was called A Wulfrunian Way (see Bugle 767), which was about my family roots on my mom's side. My dad's family came from Scotland and I regret not ever going to my dad's birthplace during my sporting days. This inspired me to write a verse, I Should Have Played for Ladybank Violet. Ladybank is a village in the Kingdom of Fife where my dad grew up and the Violets are a local amateur football team.
"Often when visiting my roots in Fife I had noticed the coastal path stretching for 82 miles between the Forth and the Tay bridges. I thought this could be a suitable opportunity for a challenge and to balance the books of my parental divide. The walk can be done in stages and so I started to make plans for at least two days.
"On the evening of Sunday, 13th May, I set out from my home in Codsall for a leisurely night time journey, resting en route to Scotland. The weather through the night was poor until I had got past the Lake District. I eventually arrived in Fife, driving over the Forth Road Bridge, at 5am on Monday morning. The magnificent sight of the Forth Rail Bridge at North Queensferry greeted me not long after dawn.
"I parked my car at the railway station and at 5.30 searched for the start of the Fife coastal path. My plan was to get to Burntisland, 13 miles along the coast, where I had booked two evenings' bed and breakfast.
"To be honest I struggled to find the beginning of the path and that early in the morning there was no one around to help me. Then in the middle of a short panic attack the sign of the coastal path appeared before me, as if to say "Here I am, open your eyes." I was a bit tired having not slept a wink but off I went into the unknown. I had talked about doing the walk for weeks so there was no going back.
"The view of the bridge and the Forth was majestic. It led me to think about my young days in the 1960s and Millers Bridge in Dixon Street, not far from Monmore Green. I can recall the old bridge being replaced by the one that's still there today. When cycling to school I had to carry my bike over the footbridge to the other side, it seemed an eternity before the bridge was functional. These bridges and their stature are incomparable but I couldn't help but do so. The canal at Millers Bridge was an opening to another world for me, my imaginative mind worked overtime, the tow paths were a history lesson in themselves and something that cannot be taught in a classroom. The evidence of the hard work of man and horse was all around. I would run my fingers down the grooves in the brickwork that had been cut by ropes pulled by horses towing barges.
"The weather that morning was bright and sunny and I arrived at Burntisland railway station just before 10am. My plan was to catch the train back to North Queensferry to collect my car. When returning to the station car park, where I had arrived earlier that morning and parked as a lone driver, I noticed that it was now full with other commuters' vehicles. Before leaving North Queensferry I spent a short while at the Forth Rail Bridge. The chef from the nearby Albert Hotel took a couple of photos of me wearing my newly purchased Black Country "Tay Shirt".
When getting close to the bridge and witnessing its enormous size you understand why it is so famous. What a great legacy those men from the Victorian age left behind. I have read that many men came from all over Europe to work on the bridge, starting in 1879. Perhaps there was a Black Country man or two who toiled on that great engineering feat. Their labouring day and night produced a structure that became a symbol of Scotland. There were fatalities during the seven years it took to build the bridge and I believe the first person to lose his life was a boy of sixteen.
"I couldn't have selected a better place for my base than the Beach House at Burntisland. This was built in 1860 and was formerly a Victorian tea-room. It was, as named, next to the beach and the views from my bedroom window were magnificent, in the distance I could see the city of Edinburgh and in the Forth was the Isle of Inchkeith. The Fife coastal path passed outside the door and the railway line was directly behind the building and the trains that went past periodically added to its character. On the other side of the railway line was a green belt of land called the Links and every summer crowds gather there to watch the Highland games.
"After lunch I set off again along the coast path heading for Kirkcaldy, the birthplace of my dad's real mother Annie Duff Kennedy. On the coast road near Pettycur Bay is a memorial where the last Celtic king was killed. I walked into Kirkcaldy via the beach and I could see the floodlights of Raith Rovers Football Club. I purchased a pin badge and was given a pen for my efforts of my day's walk starting back at the Forth Bridge in the early hours. I was disappointed to find the house where Annie Duff Kennedy lived had been demolished for re-development. An hour later I caught the bus from Kirkcaldy back to Burntisland and the Beach House.
"At breakfast the next morning I was listening to the landlady's daughter playing the piano before going to school. She played the "Skye Boat Song" as I sat and looked out at the Isle of Inchkeith, the tune fitting the moment.
"I drove to Pathhead to park up and walk the next stretch of the coast path. The weather was glorious and I could see for miles along the coastline. The towns began to change the further east I walked. Dysart was lovely as were West and East Wemyss. I noticed a small five-a-side football pitch overlooking the land's end and I wondered how many footballs had been kicked out of play and floated out into the Forth to be brought back by the tide further along the coast.
"Upon the cliff edge there was a couple admiring the view across the Forth. I politely asked the man if he would take a photograph of me. "Are you from Birmingham?" he asked. "No," I replied, "Wolverhampton." At that point my mobile phone rang so I wasn't sure if I'd correctly heard what the man said next I thought he had told me that his mother came from Wolverhampton. I had heard correct and she was born on the Dudley Road. What a small world it is, I thought as the man told me about his relations in Bloxwich and Wednesfield and about a pub in Kingswinford with low ceilings.
"Along my final stretch of the coastal path I could see to my left the Lomond Hills, a good 12 miles away. I stopped for a while to admire the view. From my dad's village of Ladybank you can see the hills quite clearly and I was put in mind of one of my earlier poems about my father's childhood.
"When walking into Buckhaven on Tuesday lunch time I came across a war memorial. The monument was at least 25 feet high and on the top was a statue of a soldier standing proud, with the Firth of Forth in the background. I always take time to read the names of those that fell for our freedom. I couldn't help but notice the surname of Anderson a few times. This is a name that is in both lines of my Bennett and Kennedy Fife roots.
"From the memorial at Buckhaven I walked down to Bayview, the home of East Fife Football Club, a superb little ground by the coast. I noticed two men talking by a tractor and trailer, by an open corner gate. They told me they were the groundsmen and allowed me to take a look inside at the pitch. It was in fine condition considering it was the end of the season. The men were maintaining the line where the assistant referees run up and down.
"By the main reception area I was invited by an executive of the club to enter the pitch via the players' tunnel. I found everyone at East Fife very friendly and a credit to Scottish football. the young lady in reception directed me to the bus station, crossing the Bawbee Bridge at Leven, where I browsed around the shops for a while before boarding a bus back to Pathhead where I had left my car. Just over the road from the sands by Ravenscraig Castle is a pub called The Path and I thought it would be an appropriate place to sample a refreshing pint in celebration of walking part of the coastal path.
"On returning to the Beach House at Burntisland late that afternoon I dipped my feet into the ice cold water of the Firth of Forth. I didn't play for Ladybank Violet as in my poem but writing that poem had inspired me to come here. Having lived a Wulfrunian way all my life my two days walking in Fife gave me great satisfaction. In my own way I felt I had balanced the books of my family's divide.
"I travelled home that Tuesday evening, thinking of what I had achieved and wishing that my dad could have known. All the places I had walked through he would have known growing up. Earlier that day I had walked past a chap working on his lorry within 100 yards of the Forth. I imagined my dad doing just the same if he had stayed in Fife. I remember Dad taking my brother Gareth and me to yards in Derry Street and Steelhouse Lane, where he worked on cars and lorries when we were kids. I arrived home late that evening and took off my Scotland rugby top and my Black Country Tay Shirt, that I had worn all trip, and put them in the wash basket. On my shirt I had chosen the saying of "Ow Bin yer?" I bin great, mate! Just a wee bit tired now."
"All my sporting years had been based in the Midlands and I prided myself on running many of the local marathons in the mid 1980s. The Wolverhampton Marathon was on my calendar a few times, as were Sandwell and Birmingham. Many roads around the Black Country were in my training programme and my "A-Z" at the time was marked out with mile marks for my reference.
"In recent years the Black Country Bugle has printed a number of my poems about my affiliation with the region, the most recent was called A Wulfrunian Way (see Bugle 767), which was about my family roots on my mom's side. My dad's family came from Scotland and I regret not ever going to my dad's birthplace during my sporting days. This inspired me to write a verse, I Should Have Played for Ladybank Violet. Ladybank is a village in the Kingdom of Fife where my dad grew up and the Violets are a local amateur football team.
"Often when visiting my roots in Fife I had noticed the coastal path stretching for 82 miles between the Forth and the Tay bridges. I thought this could be a suitable opportunity for a challenge and to balance the books of my parental divide. The walk can be done in stages and so I started to make plans for at least two days.
"On the evening of Sunday, 13th May, I set out from my home in Codsall for a leisurely night time journey, resting en route to Scotland. The weather through the night was poor until I had got past the Lake District. I eventually arrived in Fife, driving over the Forth Road Bridge, at 5am on Monday morning. The magnificent sight of the Forth Rail Bridge at North Queensferry greeted me not long after dawn.
"I parked my car at the railway station and at 5.30 searched for the start of the Fife coastal path. My plan was to get to Burntisland, 13 miles along the coast, where I had booked two evenings' bed and breakfast.
"To be honest I struggled to find the beginning of the path and that early in the morning there was no one around to help me. Then in the middle of a short panic attack the sign of the coastal path appeared before me, as if to say "Here I am, open your eyes." I was a bit tired having not slept a wink but off I went into the unknown. I had talked about doing the walk for weeks so there was no going back.
"The view of the bridge and the Forth was majestic. It led me to think about my young days in the 1960s and Millers Bridge in Dixon Street, not far from Monmore Green. I can recall the old bridge being replaced by the one that's still there today. When cycling to school I had to carry my bike over the footbridge to the other side, it seemed an eternity before the bridge was functional. These bridges and their stature are incomparable but I couldn't help but do so. The canal at Millers Bridge was an opening to another world for me, my imaginative mind worked overtime, the tow paths were a history lesson in themselves and something that cannot be taught in a classroom. The evidence of the hard work of man and horse was all around. I would run my fingers down the grooves in the brickwork that had been cut by ropes pulled by horses towing barges.
"The weather that morning was bright and sunny and I arrived at Burntisland railway station just before 10am. My plan was to catch the train back to North Queensferry to collect my car. When returning to the station car park, where I had arrived earlier that morning and parked as a lone driver, I noticed that it was now full with other commuters' vehicles. Before leaving North Queensferry I spent a short while at the Forth Rail Bridge. The chef from the nearby Albert Hotel took a couple of photos of me wearing my newly purchased Black Country "Tay Shirt".
When getting close to the bridge and witnessing its enormous size you understand why it is so famous. What a great legacy those men from the Victorian age left behind. I have read that many men came from all over Europe to work on the bridge, starting in 1879. Perhaps there was a Black Country man or two who toiled on that great engineering feat. Their labouring day and night produced a structure that became a symbol of Scotland. There were fatalities during the seven years it took to build the bridge and I believe the first person to lose his life was a boy of sixteen.
"I couldn't have selected a better place for my base than the Beach House at Burntisland. This was built in 1860 and was formerly a Victorian tea-room. It was, as named, next to the beach and the views from my bedroom window were magnificent, in the distance I could see the city of Edinburgh and in the Forth was the Isle of Inchkeith. The Fife coastal path passed outside the door and the railway line was directly behind the building and the trains that went past periodically added to its character. On the other side of the railway line was a green belt of land called the Links and every summer crowds gather there to watch the Highland games.
"After lunch I set off again along the coast path heading for Kirkcaldy, the birthplace of my dad's real mother Annie Duff Kennedy. On the coast road near Pettycur Bay is a memorial where the last Celtic king was killed. I walked into Kirkcaldy via the beach and I could see the floodlights of Raith Rovers Football Club. I purchased a pin badge and was given a pen for my efforts of my day's walk starting back at the Forth Bridge in the early hours. I was disappointed to find the house where Annie Duff Kennedy lived had been demolished for re-development. An hour later I caught the bus from Kirkcaldy back to Burntisland and the Beach House.
"At breakfast the next morning I was listening to the landlady's daughter playing the piano before going to school. She played the "Skye Boat Song" as I sat and looked out at the Isle of Inchkeith, the tune fitting the moment.
"I drove to Pathhead to park up and walk the next stretch of the coast path. The weather was glorious and I could see for miles along the coastline. The towns began to change the further east I walked. Dysart was lovely as were West and East Wemyss. I noticed a small five-a-side football pitch overlooking the land's end and I wondered how many footballs had been kicked out of play and floated out into the Forth to be brought back by the tide further along the coast.
"Upon the cliff edge there was a couple admiring the view across the Forth. I politely asked the man if he would take a photograph of me. "Are you from Birmingham?" he asked. "No," I replied, "Wolverhampton." At that point my mobile phone rang so I wasn't sure if I'd correctly heard what the man said next I thought he had told me that his mother came from Wolverhampton. I had heard correct and she was born on the Dudley Road. What a small world it is, I thought as the man told me about his relations in Bloxwich and Wednesfield and about a pub in Kingswinford with low ceilings.
"Along my final stretch of the coastal path I could see to my left the Lomond Hills, a good 12 miles away. I stopped for a while to admire the view. From my dad's village of Ladybank you can see the hills quite clearly and I was put in mind of one of my earlier poems about my father's childhood.
"When walking into Buckhaven on Tuesday lunch time I came across a war memorial. The monument was at least 25 feet high and on the top was a statue of a soldier standing proud, with the Firth of Forth in the background. I always take time to read the names of those that fell for our freedom. I couldn't help but notice the surname of Anderson a few times. This is a name that is in both lines of my Bennett and Kennedy Fife roots.
"From the memorial at Buckhaven I walked down to Bayview, the home of East Fife Football Club, a superb little ground by the coast. I noticed two men talking by a tractor and trailer, by an open corner gate. They told me they were the groundsmen and allowed me to take a look inside at the pitch. It was in fine condition considering it was the end of the season. The men were maintaining the line where the assistant referees run up and down.
"By the main reception area I was invited by an executive of the club to enter the pitch via the players' tunnel. I found everyone at East Fife very friendly and a credit to Scottish football. the young lady in reception directed me to the bus station, crossing the Bawbee Bridge at Leven, where I browsed around the shops for a while before boarding a bus back to Pathhead where I had left my car. Just over the road from the sands by Ravenscraig Castle is a pub called The Path and I thought it would be an appropriate place to sample a refreshing pint in celebration of walking part of the coastal path.
"On returning to the Beach House at Burntisland late that afternoon I dipped my feet into the ice cold water of the Firth of Forth. I didn't play for Ladybank Violet as in my poem but writing that poem had inspired me to come here. Having lived a Wulfrunian way all my life my two days walking in Fife gave me great satisfaction. In my own way I felt I had balanced the books of my family's divide.
"I travelled home that Tuesday evening, thinking of what I had achieved and wishing that my dad could have known. All the places I had walked through he would have known growing up. Earlier that day I had walked past a chap working on his lorry within 100 yards of the Forth. I imagined my dad doing just the same if he had stayed in Fife. I remember Dad taking my brother Gareth and me to yards in Derry Street and Steelhouse Lane, where he worked on cars and lorries when we were kids. I arrived home late that evening and took off my Scotland rugby top and my Black Country Tay Shirt, that I had worn all trip, and put them in the wash basket. On my shirt I had chosen the saying of "Ow Bin yer?" I bin great, mate! Just a wee bit tired now."
