By Leeza Clark

Dunfermline, Scotland’s ancient capital is a place steeped in a rich history, with proud traditions.

It is the birthplace of royalty, the resting place of kings.

But over the last two decades, the jewel in the crown has become tarnished, its lustre fading.

Generations were able to say, with pride, that they were Dunfermline born and bred.

Sadly, few can now make that claim. With the decision to close the town’s maternity hospital, most local babies get their first glimpse of Fife through the windows of Forth Park.

But Dunfermline, the birthplace of the world’s greatest philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, is still “their” town, as it is for thousands of new home owners putting down roots on the eastern expansion.

So the burning question is how to find that new sense of community in a modern vibrant town worthy not only of its rightful place in history as the most powerful in Scotland but as a forward- thinking, aspirational area.

Is it now time to once and for all throw off the shackles of the Auld Grey Toun and become a community awakening from years of neglect?

To become, as Fife Council’s motto suggests, “a smart, successful small city.”

If it was once fit for kings, isn’t it again time for it to fill the needs of its ordinary citizens, those truly “born and bred” and those who have come from all over the world to settle there?

Two years ago proposals for the £100 million investment masterplan in the centre of the town were unveiled by the then leader of Fife Council, Labour politician Anne McGovern, who labelled it realistic and exciting.

That came hot on the heels of £850,000 from Historic Scotland to improve key listed buildings in the town centre conservation area.

Certainly there seems to be a renewed sense of optimism for the town, with plans to regenerate it as a retail, leisure, heritage and business hub.

Public and private sectors are showing renewed vigour in revitalising the town.

No one would deny the past few years have been a struggle, as new developments have taken shape and the heart of Dunfermline seemed to be transformed into one giant building site.

Many feel that heart was ripped out by the demise of the Co-op and the dereliction of its labyrinth of buildings on a prime site at the lower end of the High Street.

Its demise not only signalled the end of a once-thriving business but left a legacy of a site which is still, nearly two decades later, unoccupied.

Over the years developers have come up with ambitious plans, so it is little wonder locals take the stance of believing something will happen when they see it.

Local traders felt a knock-on effect; and while the Kingsgate and top end of the High Street enjoyed better fortunes, the bottom has been caught in the doldrums.

Coupled with that was loss of the town centre cinema, which could not compete with the Odeon on Fife Leisure Park.

Of course, all the blame cannot land at the door of the Co-op, although to many it has come to symbolise all that they feel is wrong with Dunfermline.

Nationally the Thatcher years sounded the death knell for coal mining—a disaster for the west Fife region—and the end of the cold war had serious implications for the former royal naval base and dockyard at Rosyth, with hundreds of jobs lost.

Coupled to that were disappointments when Hyundai, then Motorola, promised thousands of jobs that failed to materialise.

All that put the area in the doldrums. But, as the new century grows, is Dunfermline fighting its way back to stake claim to its inheritance, now open for business and ready for the 21st century?