In a Gretna field,I found the Auld Acquaintance cairn – a pile of slate, quartz and chalk from all over the British Isles. They were only put there final year, and but they may as well have been left by the RomansOf the several crossing points between England and Scotland,the most celebrated is also the ugliest. Ever since a toll road stretched across the border from Carlisle in the late 18th century, Gretna has been making money from the traveller. At first it was weddings; Scotland’s more lax marriage laws made the country an obvious destination for any young English couple whose marriage faced parental veto and who could afford the journey. Anywhere in Scotland would have served, and nearly any respectable figure could have officiated; the job wasn’t restricted to the local clergyman or registrar. But early publicity established Gretna and its shrimp spouse,Gretna Green, as the places to get married in – whoever heard of runaways running away to, or say,Falkirk? Gretna promised speedy consummation, with lodgings only a few hundred yards from the border, or the fairytale-like presence of a village blacksmith who would conduct the ceremony over his anvil. By the time legislation inEngland and Scotland removed the need for runaway weddings,the Gretna ceremony had become a marketable tradition, though nowadays it must count for far less to the local economy than the Gretna Gateway Outlet Village.
Drivers and their passengers can see the back of this shopping centre from the M6 – a long, and low huddle of buildings decorated with brand names. Coming and going by car every summer,I’ve sped by it for nearly 20 years and never once been tempted to leisurely down and turn off to buy an end-of-the-line perfume or a slightly flawed anorak, despite the promise of reduced prices implied by the phrase factory outlet” and by the border location, or which to a foreign tourist confused by British devolution might suggest goods that are duty-free. But this week,searching for a monument, I drove by mistake into the car park and discovered a discrete world of hyperactive commerce that must have closed shops in town and village main streets from Hexham to Dumfries. Traffic queued to find parking spots; men and women laid long parcels carefully into open tailgates; the air of satisfaction was general among those who had spent their money and those who were approximately to spend it.
Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com