These old pavements had furrows and grooves worn into them by countless feet over countless years...perhaps even Victorian ones? But still the fine gravel surface persisted. Why was it never blown or washed away by the Scottish deluge of winter? These ever present, slightly muddy paths running alongside the magnificent abodes of that particular neighbourhood. The jute baron playground of Dundee's boom years, the richest square mile in Europe according to some sources.
But today, to my horror, I see the old ways are being dug up and replaced by shiny new asphalt runways. Skateboarders delight.....heaven knows I was one once (I still have a woefully underused longboard festering in the cupboard under the stairs). This march of progress and jobs creation may be seen as a good thing by some, but to be honest those old grit walkways still had a lot of life in them, yes really engrained in them. Generations of Barnhillians have traversed those muddy miles to who knows where. And so it goes, with a glint of sadness in my heart I walk the weary way up to my mother's house with my own children now, bouncing ever so slightly on the springy black pavements...at least I imagine it feels like bouncing.
Notice the mossy growth in the damp shade of the wall.
That fine old grit.
All dug up..
Note the beautiful curved masonry work on these big old wide-scale kerbstones,
at least they've been spared. You can see the edge of the new asphalt there, smothering the earth.
The new shiny black stuff. Bouncy bouncy.