Duncan Harley

I am hugely relieved that the defamation action against Andy Wightman MSP brought by Wildcat Haven Enterprises has been settled in his favour. Mr Wightman had been pursued for damages of £750k following allegations that the conservation business had suffered loss due to his comments on social media and in his blogposts. Seemingly Lord Clark has ruled that none of Mr Wightman’s comments were defamatory and Mr Wightman has been quoted as saying that the action should have never have been brought against him. The Court of Session judge noted that Wildcat Haven was ‘engaged in a genuine scheme aimed at the conservation of wildcats run by well-intentioned and enthusiastic individuals. I have to wonder what all the fuss was about though - but I'm sure that all will eventually be revealed on Andy's blog @:   http://www.andywightman.com/ Here meantime, for what its worth, is an extract from chapter 11 of my recent book – The Little History of Aberdeenshire in which I...

I had the rare opportunity to watch Scottish telly last night and tuned into the new Freeview BBC Channel Nine. Devoted to all things Scottish and with an upbeat launch week promising to be all over the land, I was - to say the least - interested in what the new all-Scottish TV station might have on offer. Maybe there would be some upbeat content about local affairs down by the harbour, perhaps a new piece of Scottish drama or something geared to upstage that slightly odd River City or even a new take on the dogging sites in and around Torry Battery.  A bit of Doric perhaps or even a piece about how Dundee’s national bard composed a song about why US General Grant came to describe the Tay Bridge as ‘a mighty long bridge for such a little town’. Surely there would be something about oil, or wind power or Mennie Estate or Buffalo Bill’s sojourn in Huntly. But no. None of the above. In truth, not that much from above the Antonine Wall made it onto the airwaves on that windy ...

Writing competitions are just that … competitions. You either win, or you lose and, in the big scheme of things losing seems likely. After all, there can only be one winner and the rest of the pack are destined to some dark hole in the vast behind of some ugliness best described as the deep pond of despair. I should know. In a fit of participation, I penned a piece for a competition recently. Themed on the note ‘Noon’, the tale centred on a cowboy village in the Garioch – or more correctly near Huntly, the piece failed to even make the long-list and said literary judges have, to date, quite forgotten to get back to say why. Makes a mockery really. But then, I would say that … Here, for what it’s worth, is my High Noon, Hadleyville piece : “Hidden in full view alongside some minor road linking Tranquillity with Huntly, the wild-western village hosts a graveyard appropriately named Boot Hill. There are no genuine graves here, only empty headstones made of wood, but visito...

Not may folk know it, but there is a cowboy-town just outside Huntly. Not that you would likely stumble across it by accident of course. Hidden in full view alongside some minor road linking Tranquillity with Huntly, the wild-western village hosts a graveyard appropriately named Boot Hill. There are no genuine graves here, only empty headstones made of wood, but visitors to Tranquillity kind-of-generally get the drift. Boot Hill is of course full of those folks ‘hung by mistake’ and ‘shot at noon cause he stole a horse’. The carved markers speak of bank-robbers and cattle rustlers who, in some far dreamland took that step too far and suffered the indignity of a good bit of neck-stretching after shooting the Sherriff. Not that Huntly is a stranger to the wild west. In far off days The Bruce ravished the land in what became known as The Hership Of Buchan. Burning and slaying as he went the somewhat nasty man ensured loyalty via the sword. The early American settlers must ...

Until today I had never seen logging with horses. In a past life I managed some woodland in the shire and, as you do, I took to cutting down the odd tree or two. In fact, it may have been the odd hundred or two, but who’s counting. I did of course replant ten times or so of what I harvested so the resin-stained guilt is easily assuaged. There is a woodland at Pitcaple which should really bear my name. But that is another story. The power-saw was my weapon of choice and I owned a good few of these smoking beasts over the decades. The worst were those dreadfully noisy American made Presidents. They were forever overheating and suffered from poor design and an utterly appalling centre of gravity. Trump-like, they huffed and puffed between services. And Trump-like they were never ever up to the job power-wise. Big broad cutting chains and poor oil-feeds don’t mix and I soon moved on to chainsaw heaven in the form of Andreas  Stihl and Son. At least the Germans take care to ensur...

We decided to have a wander round Battlehill at Huntly over the weekend. Fortunately, we chose the Saturday full of sunshine and not the Sunday full of wet-stuff. We set off in bright sunshine for a bit then encountered a cold breeze from the north before circling into shelter and more strong sunshine on the lee side of the wood. It’s changed a bit since our last visit. The treeline around the summit has been re-planted and a series of archaeological digs have revealed some good evidence of habitation in past years. Post holes from bronze-age huts, some flint arrowheads and some ancient pottery have been uncovered and a fresh dig is planned for August 2018. Perhaps some bones of those slain in battle will come to light since seemingly the wood is named after a skirmish during the wars of Scottish Independence. However not much information is available on-line or indeed locally. At first, I wondered if the clash-of-arms might have been as a result of the bloody end-game of The Bat...