| along Princes Street. Too many chain 
                stores now, he thought, too many plastic fronts looking out on 
                the passing throng. He pointed the car towards the coast. Portobello 
                passed in a blur, its narrow High Street potholed with roadworks. 
                He caught glimpses of the Forth as he drove through the Honest 
                Toun, passed the racecourse and turned along the coast road towards 
                his destination. At least Mrs Herman's looked the same.
 The coast road had been straightened 
                out and the sea pushed back a few hundred yards. He made his first 
                stop at the remains of one of Prestonpans' two seaside pits, — 
                Prestongrange. It was now part of the Scottish Mining Museum. 
                The old beam engine had been restored and several other buildings 
                housed a variety of historical evidence of mining's past.
 He looked back up the coastline towards 
                Musselburgh arid picked out the shape of the breakwater built 
                to push back the waters and allow an area of land to be infilled 
                with fly-ash from the new power station down the coast at Cockenzie. 
                He didn't linger, after all he had been a "Links" man not a "Grange" 
                man. The entrance to "the Pans" had changed completely during 
                his absence. Gone were the miners rows of Morrison's Haven and 
                the "Kittle", replaced by modern houses. The West End Branch of 
                the Co-op store where Jock had once ruled was now converted into 
                a pub "The Lady Susan". Bourhill's and Allan's yard had gone with 
                the Primary School but a new yard "Sammy Burn's" full of character 
                and trendy rubbish had taken its place. The tyre factory was now 
                a garage but Antonelli's still sold great ices and the Goth stood 
                in tarnished splendour. The road was wider through the main street, 
                many new houses having filled in the gaps left by the demise of 
                The Black Bull, Aggie Bagnall's and The Queen's Arms. Funny how 
                you missed the old pubs. There were new names on many of the shop 
                fronts — gone were Turnbull's, Wilson's, Mellis's, Beenie Allan's 
                and Laidlaw's replaced by Morgan, McAinsh, VG Stores, and the 
                Dragon Way, all incomers. However the Pans Co-op still reigned 
                supreme with the prime position where the Scratcher once stood. 
                He slowed the car down below the Auld Kirk, pleased to see the 
                Coronation Gardens kept so well but cringed at the monstrosity 
                of modern art on the grass near the sea wall. Some of Fowler's 
                brewery buildings had gone but his heart lifted when he read in 
                large letters PRESTONLINKS Shopping Centre. At least someone had 
                the sense to preserve the old names. He was nearly there — only 
                another half mile past the buildings where the famous "Wee Heavy" 
                was once made. He braked suddenly and pulled up at 'the side of 
                the road. There wasn't a trace of what had once been a hive of 
                activity. He got out of the car and climbed the grassy slope. 
                He was dwarfed by the bulk of the power station behind him — on
 
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