No Nonsense

Day 2; 360 miles from Oxfordshire

We found time for a very brief look at Perth. A solid, sensible town, full of solid, sensible buildings, built from solid, squared-off stone blocks, with just occaaional nods to classical Rome or a little solid, carved-stone decoration. It feels like a defiant response to a turbulent northern climate and a keen awareness of living beside Scotland's longest river, that drains over 5,000 sq km of mountain and moor. It discharges more water into the sea than any other UK river and, just to add a further variable, Perth is the point where it becomes tidal

The spirit of the place is encapsulated in its 'old' river bridge - the more distant and picturesque of the two in the picture. Built slowly and carefully between 1766 and 1771, it very soon had to demonstrate its quality. Early in 1774, pieces of ice turned the bridge into a dam and water built up above the bridge, flooding the town. The same thing happened in 1814, when the water was recorded at 7 metres above its normal level. These and many other floods are marked on one of the piers, like notches on the hilt of an undefeated sword 

A candidate for worst well-known poem in the English language is The Tay Bridge Disaster, about a fatal collapse of the rail bridge over the river in Dundee, near its mouth, long after the Perth bridge was built. The risk-averse citizens of Perth have not experienced such a thing 

The little hint of land on the bottom right is not the far bank of the river but the tip of a large island that splits the river channel in two. Part of this is given over to tidy and productive looking allotments - just what you might expect from this practical city. The much larger part, though, is devoted to the unlikely use of a golf course, which suggests they must also have their more whimsical moments