Driving through Fife yesterday on the way to the City of Discovery I was reminded of the history of the land I was travelling. Once passed Glenrothes and off the motorways the land has a fair amount of trees on it, is rural, farmed, kept. Pretty and picturesque in places once you get passed the new builds, industrial estates, windfarms, global mega-warehouses and retail complexes of varying sizes. The amount of history, of travels, of battles, of schemes and pilgrimages on this stretch of Scotland must be huge.
But there is also a mythological impact that is all but lost. Where would we find our ancient tales of myths and legend? In the small stretches of water, by rivers, lochans and burns. In the tales of our storytellers and an oral tradition that extends beyond time. In the place names of villages, hamlets, cottages, farms, hills and forgotten woods. In a thousand years will people wonder why Amazon Way is called so? And then extend the same reverence we might over the name Queensferry, Canmore Street or Kingskettle? Is there a lack of knowledge of history these days, or is there more? Are we more aware of it than ever? The mythical part of our land, the spaces for these tales, the connection and the whys are mostly gone.