Exactly four years ago this weekend, I wrote about how I had never been to Dundee. It was styled as a light and funny piece reflecting on how in our hurry to explore the world, we often miss out on the myriad gems right on our own doorstep.
Published in the Herald on Sunday, it read: “Readers of a certain vintage will be familiar with the 1982 chart-topping hit, I've Never Been to Me, in which the singer Charlene regales with stories of global gallivanting.
“One such memorable line: ‘I've been to Georgia and California, and anywhere I could run’. Before lamenting: ‘I've been to paradise. But I've never been to me.’ While idly perusing a map the other day, there came a startling realisation: I've been to Georgia and California. But I've never been to Dundee.”
It was penned tongue-in-cheek yet also meant as a declaration of intent: I planned to visit Dundee post haste. Unfortunately, the timing for this bold statement wasn’t ideal. A fortnight later, we headed into the first UK-wide coronavirus lockdown.
And then, just like that - what feels like the blink of an eye - four years have passed. You might be wondering where I am going with this. But there is a point to my meandering musings: I finally visited Dundee last weekend.
Or rather, Camperdown Country Park on the outskirts of the city. It was an impromptu road trip (aren’t all the best adventures last-minute and unplanned?), arranged so that my friend P could take part in her first parkrun, a Saturday morning 5K (3.1-mile) event.
We had originally intended to visit Queen’s Park in Glasgow but when one of Dundee’s most famous daughters, Commonwealth Games gold medallist Eilish McColgan, announced she would be making her parkrun debut in her home city on the same day, it felt like serendipity.
So, off we went, four of us piling into the car at the crack of dawn to trundle the 82 miles north, fuelled by caffeine, energy bars and good humour. At Camperdown, we joined a 305-strong group of runners and walkers for a communal stretching of the legs.
One of the nicest things was that McColgan, there to jog round with some local youngsters, started from the back of the field and worked her way through towards the front. This meant almost everyone had a moment of running alongside her, which felt incredibly special.
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As someone who prefers woodland paths and muddy trails to pounding concrete pavements, the undulating parkrun course at Camperdown was wonderful.
I have spoken in the past about my love of “joy snacks” - the little moments of delight we experience throughout the day - and this parkrun was packed with them, from breathing in the crisp morning air to hearing the chirp of birdsong and seeing clusters of snowdrops.
Then there were the magnificent trees. The area is renowned for its arboreal beauty with 90 individual species that include Spanish chestnut, Japanese cedar, Himalayan birch, giant redwood and, of course, the famed Camperdown elm.
As I’m writing this, there is a dawning epiphany that while talking about visiting a city, rather than listing the urban attractions and architecture, I’m waxing lyrical about the nature and wildlife (perhaps more revealing insight about the inner workings of my brain than I expected to glean).
Sadly, though, it was merely a flying visit to Dundee. So, there was no opportunity to marvel at Scott and Shackleton’s Antarctic expedition ship RRS Discovery, take a selfie at the V&A museum or sample a mixed-origin meat delicacy from Bob Servant’s Broughty Ferry burger van.
But I’ll definitely be back. And I won’t leave it 46 years next time.
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