Duncan Harley

In this, the third part of his Strathspey Pentalogy musical journey, composer Hamish Napier celebrates the ancient forests of the Scottish Highlands. I’ve ranted on about the man’s music on a few occasions. Once or twice in the, now defunct Leopard Magazine. A couple of times in Aberdeen Voice. And in the blogosphere.  The first album dwelt on vivid sonic images of the River Spey – The River, and part two of the five-part journey - The Railway, was dedicated to railwaymen all around the north-east. In this new collection there are 21 new tracks which according to Hamish incorporate 28 new tunes and pieces in a folk-tune cycle. Legends, folklore and a heady mix of jigs, reels, marches and slow airs inhabit the album. Themed around the medieval Ogham alphabet, there is says Hamish ‘A track for every letter of the Scottish Gaelic tree alphabet.’ Venus of the Woods, an upbeat polka, reflects the cheerful mood of the ash while the elm, a coffin tree, is celebrated in a mel...

Well that’s me off to pen book three. The A-Z of Curious Aberdeenshire was a good first stab at the history of the north-east and, although I say it myself, made for a good follow-up on those well-researched Leopard Magazine features.   Next, of course, is The Little History of Aberdeenshire  - due out on March 1st - which I hope might make it onto the dusty bookshelves of those who appreciate popular history on a local level. With a working title of ‘Long Shadows – more tales from the north-east’, the next work is likely to include the Garvie murder, much more about Tomintoul and of course a take on Gordon Bennett. Gordon, of course, went on to found the New York Times while his well-loved son inspired the popular epithet ‘Gordon Bennett’. Garvie-wise, I have already been given a comment – which I may ignore - suggesting that sleeping dogs might lie. The participants are now graveside although one, Sheila, was until a few years ago often seen walking her dog alo...

Following on from last nights tirade about the lack of print-media for budding authors within the bounds of the North-east, I checked to see if an old article was still available on-line. It was a piece about a cow. Not just any cow you understand but a cow from Turriff. Us bloggers are fond of cows and a good friend informs that they always face the same way no-matter what the weather. I had penned a few words about the sturdy beast in a Leopard article or two. Something about Lendrum to leeks as I recall. The late Bob Smith and I had cooperated in an article to record the tale. I penned some words and Bob compiled a poem in his native Doric. As I recall Bob, or Smithie to his friends, concentrated on the National Insurance ramifications of the tale of that famous ‘fite coo’ whereas I relished the political ramifications  – the House of Lords were humbled into submission by a triumphant parliament and stripped of their power of veto. Cynics of the time suggested ...

As the new book nears completion I have had time to reflect on some still-to-be completed writing projects. Few of us live to be much beyond a hundred and there are quite a few unpublished tales stuck within my bulging filing cabinet. An armoured train, manned by a Polish Dad’s Army regiment which once patrolled the Buchan permanent way plus a piece about the last of the Covesea millwrights lead the pack and the strange tale of sculptor Alexander Brodie’s lonely suicide are just examples of the buried genre. Then there is the story of a long-lost number 10 Bluebird buried at Rothienorman, a Victorian Music Hall sandal scandal and that quite splendid tale of the last voyage of the Girl Pat. I could go on … But where to begin. The lack of a regional magazine, now that Leopard has been abandoned by the university and then swallowed by a bigger fish, has led to a dearth of publication places and in the big scheme of things even David Toulmin has been cast aside by the powers...

I first encountered Gordon Duthie a few years back when an editor flagged his music and I interviewed the man in the course of some black coffee in a backstreet café in darkest Kintore. We added cake as I recall and split the bill. When Gordon first came to my attention he had just released his third album A Thran Backwoods Poet . The Westhill singer/composer/musician had re-visited a family event in which the young men of the Luftwaffe had bombed and sunk his grandad’s fishing boat in Montrose harbour.      A year in the making, Thran represented a significant shift from the themes of sadness and isolation expressed in Gordon’s previous albums and, alongside titles such as Whisky Disco and Feel Loon did a Wildpoepen , Indeed, Gordon’s tribute to his grandad’s Sandhaven built FR106 Duthies featured ten quite provocative numbers. Then came Dunt, Dunt, Dunt - his fourth album and again a full year in the making. Dunt looked deeply into the soulless existe...