The final part of searching for the lost Molendinar Burn. Catch-up with Mossad conspiracy, brothels and myth (part 1) and Gangster edgelands (part 2).
It was not a dignified entrance. I crawled under a fence, forced my way through nettles and barbwire, and gingerly walked over shifting piles of debris.
How a liberal German sex pioneer founded a notorious scientific sex institute and fell foul of the Nazis.
A short grubby true tale of a window, exhibitionism and Patsy Cline
The motorist rushing along the A914 through central Fife would have to be especially sharp to notice the small sign for and the anonymous dirt track that leads up to the hamlet of Cults and its hidden church, the Cults Kirk.
The line of abandoned buildings lay on the other side of a field of stubble. Access to the buildings was an easy matter of wading through nettles, brambles and overgrowth and hopping through an open window.
…and the lessons I learnt in the process.
Fife is rife with ruins, green fields and contradiction. Its dramatic entrance hall, the Forth Bridge, somehow encapsulates much of its inner nature, except perhaps for the matter of golf.