Galashiels

Now, said Scott, I have brought you, like the pilgrim in the pilgrim's progress, to the top of the delectable mountains, that I may show you all the goodly regions hereabouts.

Yonder is La Mer and Small Home, and there you have Galashiels and Torwoodie and Galwater, and in that direction you'll see Teviotdale and the Braes of Yarrow, an etric stream winding along like a silver thread to throw itself into the tweed.

He went on thus to call over names celebrated in Scottish song, and most of which had recently received a romantic interest from his own pen.

In fact, I saw a great part of the border country spread out before me, and could trace the scenes of those poems and romances which had, in a manner, bewitched the world.

I was on the point of pronouncing the name, and recognizing the portrait, when I recollected the incognito observed by Scott with respect to his novels, and checked myself, but it was one among many things that tended to convince me of his authorship.

His picture of Andrew Gemmill, exactly accorded with that of E. D., as to his height, carriage, and soldier-like air, as well as his arch and sarcastic humor.

His home, if home he had, was at Galashiels, but he went daundering about the country, along the green shaws and beside the burns, and was a kind of walking chronicle throughout the valleys of the Tweed, the Etrick, and the Yarrow, carrying the gossip from house to house, commenting on the inhabitants and their concerns, and never hesitating to give them a dry rub as to any of their faults or follies.

A shrewd beggar like Andrew Gamill, Scott added, who could sing the old Scotch airs, tell stories and traditions, and gossip away the long winter evenings, was by no means an unwelcome visitor at a lonely manse or cottage.

And my name is Emma Hurd.

And Emma Hurd is a curate, a trainee priest who is working with me in Galashield and Selkirk.

And Pip and I thought it would be a good thing just to chat to someone who's in the early days of training.

So that's what we're going to do today.

So I think they kind of left their fastest pal to run the last section when they really hit it hard.

from St Mary's through to Traquair and get to Galashiels so aye Jamie was a nice boy they were all nice they were all all day they were always every checkpoint because he must have been like third but getting third they're obviously just smashing it Lee Brown what a runner and all that so aye I wasnae at that point I wasnae annoyed about getting overtook I was just wanting to get to the finish and Casey had said to me look they've overtook you but I think fourth is miles behind so you're going to get a podium just try and finish strong And I was there, I was toiling there that last four mile, like get up that seam and you get up that wee hill and then you're running there, the fields and all that.

And then they took you down the trail and I got lost in the trail again.

My GPS mucked up in the wee trail.

No, maybe not quite, no.

No, we didn't go into the Borders, no. Um, I think, uh, Gala Fairydean are a Borders club, aren't they, uh, in Galashiels? But, um, no, no league clubs in that corner of Scotland but, uh, in, in-

No, of course not.

But it's, it's, it's a little over 30 miles south of Edinburgh, which will of course host the Tour de France's Grand Départ next summer.

Scotland does not neatly divide East and West.

No. It's that thing, if you put it east and west, so what does someone who lives in Galashiels have in common with someone who lives in Cullen? They're both Scottish, they're both human, but beyond that, you're starting to kind of get to the realms of, well, why are those two in the same area? in the same region.

It just seems a bit wrong.

But then you can't really divide it north-south either because north would not have the scale.

Now, said Scott, I have brought you, like the pilgrim in the pilgrim's progress, to the top of the delectable mountains, that I may show you all the goodly regions hereabouts.

Yonder is La Mer, and small home, and there you have Galashiels, and Torwoodie, and Galwater, and in that direction you'll see Teviotdale, and the Braes of Yarrow, and Etrick's stream, winding along, like a silver thread, to throw itself into the tweed.

He went on thus to call over names celebrated in Scottish song, and most of which had recently received a romantic interest from his own pen.

In fact, I saw a great part of the border country spread out before me, and could trace the scenes of those poems and romances which had, in a manner, bewitched the world.

I was on the point of pronouncing the name, and recognizing the portrait, when I recollected the incognito observed by Scott with respect to his novels, and checked myself, but it was one among many things that tended to convince me of his authorship.

His picture of Andrew Gemmill, exactly accorded with that of E. D., as to his height, carriage, and soldier-like air, as well as his arch and sarcastic humor.

His home, if home he had, was at Galashiels, but he went daundering about the country, along the green shaws and beside the burns, and was a kind of walking chronicle throughout the valleys of the Tweed, the Etrick, and the Yarrow, carrying the gossip from house to house, commenting on the inhabitants and their concerns, and never hesitating to give them a dry rub as to any of their faults or follies.

A shrewd beggar like Andrew Gamill, Scott added, who could sing the old Scotch airs, tell stories and traditions, and gossip away the long winter evenings, was by no means an unwelcome visitor at a lonely manse or cottage.

Now, said Scott, I have brought you, like the pilgrim in the pilgrim's progress, to the top of the delectable mountains, that I may show you all the goodly regions hereabouts.

Yonder is La Mer and Small Home, and there you have Galashiels and Torwoodie and Galwater, and in that direction you'll see Teviotdale and the Braes of Yarrow, an etric stream winding along like a silver thread to throw itself into the tweed.

He went on thus to call over names celebrated in Scottish song, and most of which had recently received a romantic interest from his own pen.

In fact, I saw a great part of the border country spread out before me, and could trace the scenes of those poems and romances, which had, in a manner, bewitched the world.

Now, said Scott, I have brought you, like the pilgrim in the Pilgrim's Progress, to the top of the delectable mountains, that I may show you all the goodly regions hereabouts.

Yonder is Lammermere and Smallholm, and there you have Galashiels and Torwoodie and Gala Water, and in that direction you'll see Teviotdale and the Braes of Yarrow, an etric stream winding along like a silver thread to throw itself into the Tweed.

He went on thus to call over names celebrated in Scottish song, and most of which had recently received their romantic interest from his own pen.

In fact, I saw a great part of the border country spread out before me, and could trace the scenes of those poems and romances which had, in a manner, bewitched the world.