Sunday – day of culture (after the crane)

In the Museum we decided to stick with the big stuff – fossil skeleton of T rex, tall stuffed giraffe, beam engine, an early locomotive and a shiny aluminium rocket.  Almost as exciting was the cast iron supported glass roofed main hall of the museum – tall, bright and airy with two levels of mezzanine-style galleries.

A tall giraffe.  On the TV a few days ago heard how the very very ancient Egyptians revered them because their heads were nearer heaven.

A tall giraffe. On the TV a few days ago heard how the very very ancient Egyptians revered them because their heads were nearer heaven.

Then on to art at the galleries off Princes Street.  Have to admit I went straight to the more modern stuff.  A delightful van Gogh (olive grove), and a Cezanne.  But the one I show below seemed thoroughly delicious.

This is ART, really it is.  Degas did it, its all about skin tone, and colour and light and shade.

This is ART, really it is. Degas did it, its all about skin tone, and colour and light and shade.

Then on to the Scottish National Portrait Gallery where there is an exhibition of work by John Burne.  Much of it was self-portraits, done from 1971 to 2013, plus portraits of his several children at assorted ages, and of famous Scottish folk – Gerry Rafferty painted on a guitar, 2 of Billy Connolly, a few of Tilda Swinton (Steve was so impressed with one of these that he bought two tea towels showing the image) and Robbie Coltraine.

Outside the Scottish National Portrait Gallery.

Outside the Scottish National Portrait Gallery.

 

The central hall of the gallery has a mural of Scottish kings, and scenes of historic  significance in Scottish history.  Do you think they give their early history such prominence because they are less happy with history post-union?

Just a few of what seem to be hundreds of Scottish kings

Just a few of what seem to be hundreds of Scottish kings

The short ‘Malcolm the Maiden’ was king for a few years from his mid-teens to his early death at 26 or so.  I will resist what my step-father used to call, ‘making sweeping statements you cannot substantiate’.  In the museum shop I bought a postcard of a portrait of Ian Rankin in his favourite bar.  This was all the excuse needed to ask Steve to take my picture in a similar pose.

Ian Rankin by Guy Kinder.

Ian Rankin by Guy Kinder.

 

Rob trying to mimic Ian Rankin pose - needed more rehearsal.

Rob trying to mimic Ian Rankin pose – needed more rehearsal.

Stopped for a banana in a central square, saw a lion and could not resist another photo.

Big lion, small Rob

Big lion, small Rob

Dinner at an Indian buffet restaurant then a lot of walking until we found The Auld Hoose, where Fyne Ales Yarl was available, but Dark Star Hophead promised soon.

 

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