An Irishman's Diary

While basking on a bench by the banks of the river Ness one evening last month, I was mulling over a dilemma. I had hoped to reach the most northerly coast of Scotland's mainland and, having arrived in Inverness, was tantalisingly close. I could take the train to the end of the line in Thurso, not far from John O'Groats, but my Scotrail ticket allowed me just two more days out of the next four on which I could travel. But I had wanted to take in both Thurso and the other town on my list, St Andrews, before using the final day's travel for the journey back to Edinburgh. I was one day short.

As it turned out, I was more than happy that I decided to head south to the Royal Burgh of St Andrews in the Kingdom of Fife, just 50 miles from Edinburgh. On arrival in this beautiful medieval town by bus from the nearest train station in the town of Leuchars, I secured a room in Hamilton Hall, one of the halls of residence of St Andrews University, which overlooks the 18th hole on the Old Course of the Royal and Ancient golf course. It was a perfect location, even though golf is among the least of my interests.

Visiting golfers

Hamilton Hall is available to the public over the summer months, when most students are on holiday. Most of those who remained were final-year Americans or Canadians who had stayed on to finish off their theses. At this time of year the town is more influenced by visiting golfers, from places as far apart as the US and Japan, who treasure the opportunity to play on the world-renowned course and in the town that gave the sport to the world. The first record of golf there dates from 1553.

St Andrews University was established between 1410 and 1411, and is the oldest in Scotland. About one third of the town's population of 16,000 has some connection with the university. It and the town generally are closely associated with the Reformation. From a pulpit in the Holy Trinity kirk in 1559, the Calvinist preacher John Knox incited his congregation to loot the cathedral and other religious buildings.

Patrick Hamilton, after whom the hall of residence is named, was burned to death on North Street, outside the university's St Salvator's college, becoming Scotland's first martyr of the Reformation. While I was standing on the very spot where he died - which is marked with his initials - trying to imagine his final moments, a tour guide dressed in full medieval regalia arrived on the scene with a trail of tourists in tow. He looked askance at me and loudly informed his charges that a terrible fate awaited anyone who stood on the sacred spot. P.H., of course, would never have approved of such a foolish superstition, would he?

Property prices

The ruins of both the cathedral and the castle still stand in splendid desolation at the top of the town. A warren of narrow lanes and streets - many of them architectural gems - connect the town centre's three main streets, North Street, Market Street and South Street. Property prices in St Andrews have always been high, but another factor is pushing them even higher: England's future king will begin studies at St Andrews later this month.

During my three days there, the topic on everyone's lips was the imminent arrival of the prince, who has inherited much of his late mother's mystique and looks - not least her signature shy glance. Indeed, the frisson surrounding his arrival resulted in a 44 per cent increase in university applications - most of them from females. Lucky William: there are worse ways of spending four youthful years than studying a subject like the history of art in a pretty university town by the sea, among adoring fans.

On his nights out on the town, William will be able to choose from any of the town's many fine eateries - or he might go tourist and try the "traditional" haggis, tatties and neeps (offal, potatoes and turnips). He might even drop into the town's trendy Irish bar, Lafferty's, for its monster sandwich - the "Dublin Doorstopper".

After a couple of stiff ones the Saturday night that I visited Lafferty's, I called for another, only to be told that I would have to finish quickly because the place had to be cleared by midnight. But why?, I asked. "Oh, at midnight it will be the Sabbath," the earnest young bartender replied. A bit too Irish that, if you ask me.

Which is not to say that St Andrews is not a lively enough place for a night out. There are enough watering holes that stay open much later. Indeed, why else would a bon viveur like Andrew Neil, the former Sunday Times editor, accept the position of rector of the university?

Crisp accent

One piece of advice young William might take on board concerns what I might call "the accent thing". Nowhere in the world is English spoken more euphoniously than in Scotland. Such a mellifluous, yet crisp, brogue, suggesting authority and honesty, not to mention a certain sensuality. There can only be one logical response should a Scottish woman simper something like, "My name is Kirsty", and that is "I love you". So, be warned, young man.

William will be doing all right, though, if he brings home from St Andrews and Scotland memories that are as sweet as mine. Such as the breathtakingly beautiful Highlands as viewed from trains as they carried me off to places as delightfully disparate as St Andrews and Skye, Edinburgh and Inverness. And I was only 24 hours from Thurso.