An Elephant called Murdoch: the thread about the travails of Edinburgh’s first Zoo

This thread was originally written and published in February 2024.

It’s almost exactly a year since I tweeted about the intriguing map labels on the 1849 Ordnance Survey Town Plan of Edinburgh, and I’ve been meaning to write up more about them ever since. And so here we are, this is a thread about the (first) Edinburgh Zoological Gardens, the city’s (and Scotland’s) first zoo, which existed from 1840 to 1861. It’s a story about which almost nothing has been written (except in scraps of Victorian newspaper)… Until now that is! So read on and find out more about this pioneering but ultimately unsuccessful venture.

James IV of Scotland had built a menagerie at Holyrood in 1512 where lions, tigers are lynx reputed to have been kept. James V had an ape and James VI a camel. But it was not until the London Zoo began in 1828 that desire for a public collection in the city began to grow. The two driving figures behind a Zoo for the city were Dr Patrick Neill of Canonmills, a naturalist and botanist with a huge personal botanic garden, and Mr John Douglas, a wire-worker at 61 Princes Street and “experienced collector of foreign and British birds and quadripeds“. Travelling menageries were nothing new, they were big entertainment business in Victorian Britain – we see one here on the Mound around 1840 (we can date it from what’s on at the Panorama, a display of Jerusalem to be followed by the Battle of Waterloo in coming weeks), which is Wombwell’s Menagerie. The elephants were always a big draw and we can see one here, serving as a mobile advertising board.

But the city saw itself as having a status above that of a mere travelling circus and so something more highbrow than a menagerie was desired. Something like London had at Regents Park, with lofty, scientific ideals. So rather than form a private company to pursue the scheme, a committee of learned and interested men in the city was formed under “the control and superintendence of gentlemen in whom the public could safely confide“. The committee appointed the Duke of Buccleuch as its president and the Marquis of Lothian and Earl of Roseberry as his deputies; three of the wealthiest and most influential noblemen in the county if not the country. With this backing, John Douglas got to work.

In September 1838, he began soliciting donations of animals to form the core of the new zoological collection. James Boswell bt. sent a red deer; Mr Scales of Swanston Cottage sent a buffalo; Dr Gardner in Lothian Street gave a green monkey; others supplied a Grivet and a Ring-tailed Lemur. Six Spanish partridges were sent from Ipswich by a Mr Cobbold (more on him later); J. S. Lyon esq. of Kirkmichael provided a Golden Eagle; the Misses Gibson-Craig a Macaw; a “tortoise from the plains of Troy” came from J. B. Knight esq. of Brabdon Street and Captain Turner of the Leith Smack sent a “curious variety” of gannet (perhaps this was the closely related booby, as the 3 species of gannet all look fairly similar).

Douglas appears to have accommodated this varied and growing collection at his premises at 61 Princes Street. On October 13th 1838 he issued a prospectus for the Edinburgh Zoological Gardens, placing himself as manager of it, and began soliciting financial donors and subscribers to the scheme. The Scotsman said of the scheme that “the higher classes would hail it as a fertile and most interesting source of amusement and recreation… Every citizen who has the good of the city at heart ought cordially to help forward the establishment of so beneficial an institution.“

For the rest of the year, more animals continued to arrive. In December, a pair of Egyptian geese from R. J. Pringle esq. of Clifton, a raccoon from Dr Munro of the famous Leith steamship Sirius, a “Prehensile-tail” (i.e. Spider) monkey from Mr Murray at the Observer Office; Russian rabbits, a deer…

But money was also needed; in January 1839, the Duke of Buccleuch as President of the Committee made it publicly known he had contributed 50 Guineas, in an effort to try and solicit further donations. To keep interest in the scheme up, and pay for its upkeep, the collection of some 200 animals was put on display by the Panorama on the Mound. At a general meeting held on May 6th at the Royal Hotel, chaired by the Lord Provost, it was noted that £924 1s had been donated so far, £83 3/3d taken on the gate at the Mound and running costs were £1 a day. There was as yet no site agreed and Dr Neill of Canonmills was one of the many ordinary directors elected.

The Committee had a problem however over where to locate the collection and agreed to petition the Council to extend its stay on the Mound while they tried to find a permanent home; all the temporary structures on its western edge were due to be cleared in an agreement with the “Board of Trustees for Encouraging Manufactures and Arts“, proprietors of the Royal Institution (now the Royal Scottish Academy building of the National Galleries of Scotland). But the Board of Trustees was having none of it; they were having the Mound back and the Panorama and the animals had to go. You see, there’s nothing new under the sun in Edinburgh and the age-old argument between use of the city centre for highbrow vs. lowbrow culture and temporary vs. permanent city centre structures was going on even 185 years ago.

Messrs. Cleghorn, the proprietors of East Princes Street gardens (whose planting had been carried out by Dr Neill of Canonmills) tried to entice the Zoo to settle there, but there was no rights to erect any structures there apart from a Church, monument or public building. Cleghorn was chancing his arm; he was in trouble. His erection of a dwelling house and greenhouses in the gardens, on which he had a lease, was contrary to the Act of Parliament but had been overlooked. But he had now begun erecting a warehouse and the proprietors of Princes Street, from whom he leased the ground, finally took action. He was facing financial ruin. It was as well the Zoo ignored his overtures as just a few years later the railway cutting through the Gardens would have obliged it to move anyway.

On January 18th 1840, the Scotsman announced that the Zoo had found a permanent home; it had taken out the lease on the grounds of Broughton Park, home of the late Sir James Donaldson (he of Donaldson Hospital). Its location, between Edinburgh and Leith, was perfect. It was located between what is now East Claremont Street, Bellevue Road and West Annandale Street.

In February 1840 the Edinburgh Journal of Natural History published an inventory of the principal animals in the collection then:

Work now proceeded quickly at Broughton Park. By March, the Caledonian Mercury described it was substantially complete. It described a park, entered by a gateway with refreshment rooms, a bear pit 18ft deep and 26ft across, with a pole in the middle where the bears were enticed to climb for food and the amusement of the crowds.

There was a large aviary in the centre, a house for “rare and more delicate class of birds”, one for the carnivores and one for bears. These are the labels we can see these on that 1849 town plan. There were also stalls and paddocks for animals like deer, a pond for waterfowl and various other cages around the walls.

More animals arrived – Bengal tigers, a polar bear, a spotted hyena – as did more money from the Duke of Buccleuch. In April a prized exhibit arrived; the skeleton of a Blue Whale which had been found floating in the Forth and brought ashore by North Berwick fishermen back in October 1831. It had been dissected in situ by Dr. Knox (he of Burke & Hare infamy) who had presented its cleaned skeleton to the city.

By June 1840, things were almost ready and so Mr Douglas headed to London to spend the last of his funds on acquiring more animals; a lioness; a dromedary; a llama (the only one in the country); two Norwegian wolves; a brown bear; three peccaries from South America, a jaguar from Surinam; two spotted deer from the banks of the Ganges; a civet, a raccoon etc. These were sent back to Edinburgh on the steamship Royal Adelaide. With this final expense, the project had now run out of money and was finished only on loans and the goodwill of its directors. But it had made it! On July 7th 1840 there was a “Grand Opening Parade” with the band of the 78th (Ross-shire Buffs) Highlanders providing the music.

The 78th brought their mascot, a young elephant they had acquired on campaign in Ceylon on account of their regimental badge featuring an elephant. This was Murdoch and he had been living in Edinburgh Castle with the soldiers. It had rained all morning and the previous day, but the sun came out at 1PM for opening and “the [Zoo] entrance was literally besieged with an eager and fashionable assemblage“. Just arrived for the occasion was a Nile crocodile, a pair of swans from the Provost of Linlithgow and a king vulture (a type of condor). The day (and the Zoo) was a smash-hit success, with 6,000 people attending the opening. The below image is the only one I know of that shows it; looking across the waterfowl pond towards the animal houses and aviary. We see Murdoch the elephant and Broughton Park house in the left distance.

Throughout the summer, there were weekly promenade concerts with the bands of the 78th, or the 2nd Dragoon Guards or the 29th (Worcestershire) Regiment providing the accompaniment. This mixture of popular entertainment and zoology was a common feature of Zoos at that time, despite their ambitions to be more than just menageries. The last prom of the season was 3rd October. At a delayed AGM on March 25th 1841, the outgoings to date were recorded as £3,358 and the total income was £3,309, meaning a slight running loss. But as this had included the entire startup costs, the Directors were encouraged. To Mr Douglas, to whom “not only this city but the whole of Scotland were so deeply indebted” a £400 award was made to cover his costs to date. He was voted an £80 salary, plus 4% of gross gate takings plus one “free day” a year to organise an event and keep the whole profits.

In May the next year, the Directors announced the first prom of the season and the rates for next years subscriptions. These ranged from £21 to give the subscriber and seven family members perpetual admission to a donation of £10 10/- and subscription of £1 1/- to give them and six members access so long as they subscribed down to a £1 1/- subscription for the year for them and two family members. John Douglas chose to hold his annual “free day” benefit on July 3rd and arranged for a spectacular fireworks concert, however the weather was terrible and it was rained off; he had to refund disgruntled customers and it’s not clear whether he was allowed to hold another. I suspect he wasn’t, on 6th December 1841, he was sacked by the Directors, accused of mismanagement. He had tried to get them to let him take the Zoo over in its entirety and so perhaps this had triggered the fall out. The secretary, Mr Cobbold, was made honourary manager in his place. Douglas didn’t go quietly – he would turn up at the next AGM with his supporters to try and get it minuted in the annual report that he was not let go for mismanagement. He took out newspaper adverts to this effect and put on “evening entertainments” to explain how much personal effort and money he had put into the project and put his case to the public. When a rival Zoo was started in Glasgow two years later, who should they hire as General Manager but John Douglas!

In April 1842 we get an example of the difficulty early zoos had in caring for their charges, particularly big predators. One of the tigers got an ingrown claw which got infected and she was going lame. They tried, and failed, to cut the claw, so ended up devising an iron hook to pull it out from a very safe distance, using the enraged animal’s own strength to wrench it free. Dr Knox, who had provided the whale skeleton, recalled he had treated one of the lions that had an abscess in its paw by having a very long, sharp prod made and lancing it through the bars at the opportune moment. The AGM that year noted a surplus for the year of £152, but requested more public support. At this time the 78th Highlanders, late of the Castle garrison, were leaving from service in Ireland for India and they offered their mascot to the Zoo. He was readily accepted and arrived by train from Glasgow on March 24th, the directors of the railway waiving the transport costs. And so it was that Murdoch the elephant came to call the Zoo home. He would occasionally be used to carry advertising posters and leaflets into town to drum up business.

New acquisitions that year included a sun bear sent from Dr. Montgomery of Singapore; a pair of Egyptian geese from Lord Lurgan; three Indian monkeys from D. J. Grant esq. of Eastfield; six puffins by Miss Dalyell of Binns; a tortoise from Mr Ball of Falkirk and another from Mr Goodsir. The directors purchased a 6-banded Armadillo. But not all was well; at a public dinner of thanks for the honorary manager, Mr Cobbold, it was noted in the speeches that £1,000 of debts were outstanding and that the directors would have to cover these.

The AGM the following year, 1843, was reported in great detail in the papers. £21 8/6d had been subscribed for an elephant house; £12 10/6d had been made selling manure; £267 13/1d went on wages and £80 8/5d was spent on hiring the bands. The annual surplus was now a healthy £618 17/2½d. In September, the Leopard had three cubs (it was noted she had two cubs 2 years previously) but in October the Illustrated London News reported that a pair of Napu musk deer from Java had died during the passage of the tea clipper Monarch from Hong Kong to Leith. New Years Day events were always big business for the Zoo, when it offered half price admission. In 1844, 15,000 people passed through the gates that day. At the 1844 AGM a £100 operating surplus was declared and the collection now extended to 500 animals and as many birds. But subscriptions were falling off, it was found people were sharing season tickets and by now a total of £1,600 in loans had been taken out to cover various running costs. This growing debt would be an unshakeable millstone around the neck of the institution. But the year ended on a high with Lord Aberdeen letting the Lord Provost of Edinburgh, Adam Black, know that Queen Victoria had agreed to extend royal patronage; thus the institution became the Royal Edinburgh Zoological Garden.

In March 1845, at a sale of animals from the circus of American showman Isaac A. Van Amburgh in Manchester, Mr Cobbold purchased a male lion cub for £10 10/- for the Zoo. It would be named Wallace.

In 1847 one of the oddest exhibits arrived; several swarms of Egyptian locusts had blown over from the Sahara and were found in Perthsire. One was captured, kept alive, and put on exhibit at the Zoo. The German travel writer Johann Georg Kohl visited the Zoo in 1849. He wrote it had the “largest, strongest and finest American bison” anywhere in Great Britain, and that it was kept with a “courageous but comparatively powerless” goat that butted it fearlessly and relentlessly. In 1852 the Russian brown bear gave birth to three cubs. In 1854 the directors complained of “the indifference of their fellow-citizens and the small number of shillings and sixpences that find their way into the park“.

But donations still came in; the Marquis of Dalhousie, who had been Governor-General in India, sent it two more Bengal tigers. One wonders if these repeated donations of big cats were just to cover those that had died in the Zoo’s primitive and restrictive veterinary conditions. In August 1855 a second elephant arrived, a gift from the 25th Light Dragoons, whose regimental colours had the animal at their centre. Sadly in January the following year, Murdoch died after a very short illness. But once again, all was not well at the Zoo. In July that year an advert in the Scottish Press paper had noted new management; this I think was a man called Mr Carroll, a showman and fireworks organiser. Increasingly the Zoo was used as a leisure and concert ground to try and find a way, any way, to make it profitable. The newspapers are now stuffed with adverts for fireworks concerts at the Gardens. The animals do not ever seem to be mentioned. These changes culminated in December 1857 with the opening of a very large wooden concert hall in the grounds, the “Victoria Hall“, where all kinds of entertainment, exhibitions and variety were put on.

The Victoria Hall was a financial disaster; its construction costs of £2,200 were more than 10 years of the Gardens profits; profits already required to service the existing debt. In December 1858 the park was sold to John Jennison Junior of the Belle Vue Gardens in Manchester. But Jennison couldn’t make the place pay either. In October 1861, the Town Council found out that he had put the whale skeleton – their whale skeleton – up for sale and resolved to recover it. It was sent to the Museum in Chambers Street, where it hung until 2011, a childhood favourite of myself and countless others.

Even though military music concerts were still running at the Zoo on October 12th 1861, just a week later it was announced all the movable property had been auctioned off. The £2,200, four year old Victoria Hall fetched only £500 and was broken down on site. On November 1st, the Governors of Donaldson’s Hospital (who still owned the superiority to Broughton Park) let it be known that the lease would not be renewed when it came to expire that year and advertised the ground for feuing (breaking up into plots for development). Bits of the collection were found new homes. The eagles went to Canaan Lodge in Morningside, where John Gregory, an advocate, had a large aviary in his garden. I believe the toe bones of the late Murdoch the elephant can still be found in one of the museums in Edinburgh Castle.

But most of the animals wound end their days in the travelling menagerie of Mr Edmond, who had inherited Wombwell’s Menagerie that had toured Edinburgh back in the 1840s. Edmond bought them in Edinburgh in June 1862 when his tour left the city, taking them with him. Ultimately the Zoo could not be made to pay either its way or its debts. As it got ever more commercialised it descended into a “meager menagerie“, with the animals a backdrop to ever more desperate and cynical attempts to make money. The relentless fireworks concerts must have been awful for the inmates. It wouldn’t be until 1913 that the City would get a proper Zoo, one run on a scientific basis.

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Taken this day, 2018, walking through the Lumen sound and light installation on the Mound https://www.flickr.com/photos/woolamaloo_gazette/26357529918/

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The Mound’s Electric Blanket: the thread about keeping buses (and rugby) running during “winter’s fierce onslaught”

Once again we somehow find that it is December in Edinburgh, temperatures are forecast to drop below freezing within the week and it is only be a matter of time before Edinburgh Live treats us to doom-laden predictions of the “exact time” we will be hit by “Arctic blasts” and “snow bombs“. Relatively speaking our city isn’t actually a particularly cold one and it is even less a snowy one, but when the temperatures do drop the steep gradients of its north-facing streets can prove treacherous if the council hasn’t been out with its gritters. Seventy-odd years ago, the authorities faced a particular headache from one such street: with few surrounding buildings and a deliberately adverse camber, factors conspired to make The Mound an accident black-spot, one so prone to icing that it was the most intensely gritted road in the city.

The Mound is one of the most dangerous street surfaces in winter for the motorist.

The Mound posed a particular risk to buses. Three people were injured in April 1940 when a single decker Corporation bus skidded in wet weather and hit one of the bollards on the outside of the bend. In October 1945 a double-decker had an even more dramatic accident; losing grip in the wet it skidded across the road and flopped over onto its side: a plummet down the precipitous embankment and onto the railway below being arrested only by the slender cast iron railings. Although 29 people were injured, the railings held and a real catastrophe was avoided. They held again in the winter of 1951 when two more buses ended up being caught by them but it was time for the authorities to act. A particular problem was the adverse road camber, which had been deliberately engineered so that any horse carts which ran away downhill would be directed into the kerb and naturally brought to a halt. In an age of faster, heavier, motorised vehicles this meant that those travelling downhill were pushed outwards towards the kerb by the laws of physics and were more prone to skidding.

The Corporation spent £2,500 altering the camber on the corner, lowering the roadway on the inside of the curve, a change which explains why the pavement here now has two courses of kerbstones and a double step down to road level. One part of the problem had been dealt with but the risk from cold weather remained and – with buses rapidly replacing tramcars as the city’s public transport of choice – was actually increasing. Tired of the effort and expense of gritting, the city sought a more permanent solution. Harold Wilson’s “White Heat of Technology” speech was still a few years away but it was the heat of technology that the Corporation sought to harness. Encouraged by experiments in carriageway heating conducted by the Ministry of Transport on the Chiswick fly-over in 1956 and with the newly-formed South of Scotland Electricity Board (SSEB) keen to support anything electrical, in December 1958 a proposal was made to install the UK’s first operational sub-surface road heating system on The Mound. Approval was forthcoming from the Corporation’s Works Committee for the installation of 372 mats formed of 47 miles of electrical wire and covering some 5,500 square yards of the road surface, buried one and a half inches beneath it and fed by 760 kilowatts of heating power from a dedicated sub-station, discreetly tucked into the embankment with West Princes Street Gardens.

The heating was to be sufficient to raise the ground temperature to 35°F (1.7°C) when the ambient temperature was as low as 20°F (-6.7°C). Even before the scheme had come before the committee for approval the papers had taken to calling it an “electric blanket” and the name stuck – even though one Scotsman journalist pointed out that this was “a complete misnomer” and it was in fact “merely a simple grid of wires“.

The contract for £4,556 plus a further £1,000 on the control equipment was awarded to Messrs George Wimpey Ltd. and included the removal of the now redundant tramway rails and relaying the surface with a special smooth tarmac that would not damage the wires embedded within it. The electrical equipment was sub-contracted to E. N. Bray Ltd. of Waltham Cross, Hertfordshire and was installed by William Allan, Smith & Co. of Edinburgh. This was a significant capital outlay in lean times, but it was hoped it would be offset by a £300 annual reduction in the gritting bill.

Work to lift the tramway and granite setts of the old road surface commenced in January 1959 with installation of The Blanket beginning on 22nd September. Progress was swift and the system was ready for commissioning by mid-December, a short ceremony being held on the 17th to mark the occasion. Bailie Bruce Russell, chairman of the Corporation’s Works Committee, threw an oversized, novelty switch on a temporary kiosk on The Mound to energise the substation, remarking that it demonstrated the Corporation were “pioneers in this field“.

Those keen to see how (or if!) the expense might prove worthwhile did not have long to wait. A cold snap hit the city on 18th January 1960 and proved to be the coldest since the treacherous winter of 1947. Blizzards swept across the east of Scotland and The Scotsman reported “chaos and crashes on the roads” across the country with 150 people hospitalised as a result in Dundee alone. The Blanket was run for two consecutive days and kept the road surface clear to such an extent that the same paper declared it had “triumphantly defied the winter’s first fierce onslaught” and that while some buses were “floundering and skidding all over the place in Morningside, others sailed serenely and steadily down the Mound”.

Despite the obvious success of its first winter of operation, the £300 reduction in the city’s gritting overhead was more than cancelled out by the Blanket’s electricity bill of £1,018; more than twice what had been anticipated! The City Engineer, Mr W. P. Haldane, remained positive however and told the Works Committee that this would be reduced significantly in future by the commissioning of an automatic controller that would only switch the system on when both the temperature dropped below zero and humidity was sufficient to allow ice to form. This concept was later commercialised by the Penicuik-based firm of Findlay, Irvine Ltd. as the Icelert.

For the first three years of its life The Blanket actually remained the property of the SSEB, not being handed formally over to the city until they were fully satisfied. A ceremony was held on 8th October 1962 when the key to the substation door was handed over by Mr C. H. A. Collins of the Board to the chairman of the city’s Works Committee with a small speech that declared it to be a complete success, one that had “contributed greatly to road safety in Edinburgh”. It would now face its ultimate test – the “Big Freeze” of 1963. During one of the coldest winters on record, from mid-December all the way through to early March, the Blanket was run for a total of over four hundred hours and kept the road free of snow and ice throughout.

Such was the interest generated in The Blanket that before shovels were even in the ground other institutions were already wondering if they too could benefit from some sort of subterranean heating. A few miles away at Murrayfield, the home of Scottish Rugby, the SRU realised that such a thing could be a real boon to them too and a significant improvement of their current frost-prevention method of covering the playing surface with tons of straw and erecting marquees heated by paraffin stoves over the pitch before winter games.

Once again the SSEB was keen to propose an electric solution and in stepped a benevolent Glaswegian distiller – Charles A. Hepburn – who put up £10,000 to install the first under-soil heating at a British rugby stadium. Again the equipment was provided by E. N. Bray and 39 miles of electric wire were laid 6 inches beneath the turf late in 1959, sufficient to keep the 6,000 tons of grass and soil from freezing. The system took only a week to lay using a specially adapted tractor that cut a channel, laid the cable and then covered it back over with turf all in one action.

The running costs to the SRU of £100 a day were not cheap, but were less than the old methods and in the bitter 1963 season it more than proved its worth. There were twelve consecutive weeks when all rugby games in Scotland were cancelled – all except those at Murrayfield, where play continued uninterrupted. As a measure of how cold it had been, the frost was so severe that it caused £10,000 in damage to the concrete terracing of the stadium! The other national theatre of sport – Hampden Park – would not get a “blanket” until 1979.

The success of Edinburgh’s Blankets compelled one Scotsman reader to pen a verse in their honour:

Now may the Lord be thankit
For my electric blanket:
We’re a’ as pleased as can be,
The Mound and Murrayfield,
AND ME.

The installation at The Mound was expected to last twenty years but at the age of just fifteen there were already several sub-surface breakages which proved uneconomical to repair. The only realistic option for refurbishment was lifting and relaying the entire carriageway for which there was no political or economic appetite. With little ceremony therefore in April 1975 it was announced by the Corporation’s Highways and Road Safety Committee that the system was to be abandoned. Coincidentally, less than a month later, on May 16th, Corporation of The City and Royal Burgh of Edinburgh also found itself redundant, replaced by a two-tier system of local government. Roads and highways were now the responsibility of the new Lothian Regional Council who were now responsible for keeping The Mound free of snow and ice by old-fashioned gritting.

Being laid under turf and with nothing heavier than the forwards of the First Fifteen pressing down upon it, the system at Murrayfield was less prone to breakage and easier to repair and it lasted in use until 1991 when increasing maintenance costs saw it replaced during the reconstruction of the stadium.

If you have found this useful, informative or amusing, perhaps you would like to help contribute towards the running costs of this site – including keeping it ad-free and my book-buying budget to find further stories to bring you – by supporting me on ko-fi. Or please do just share this post on social media or amongst friends.

These threads © 2017-2026, Andy Arthur.

NO AI TRAINING: Any use of the contents of this website to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

Avanç de THE MOUND: OMEN OF CTHULHU.

Un joc d'acció cooperatiu on uns conquistadors patiran per no perdre el seny o la vida en una selva maleïda.

Sortirà l'estiu del 2026.

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https://youtu.be/TPMJ9OvYbYc?si=sL9_KOskYAn0_Dsb

Dublin Airport's 'the Mound' set for major upgrade as new plane-spotting hub gets green light – The Journal

Dublin Airport’s ‘the Mound’ set for major upgrade as new plane-spotting hub gets green light  The JournalApproval for Dublin…
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https://www.newsbeep.com/198344/

A bit of music on the Mound yesterday

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Coming and going on the Playfair Steps https://www.flickr.com/photos/woolamaloo_gazette/54809903826/in/photostream/lightbox/

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The Mound and the Playfair Steps https://www.flickr.com/photos/woolamaloo_gazette/54810158973/in/dateposted/

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