Duncan Harley

We had a wee gander round the familiar hotspots at the weekend before ending up in far off Kemnay on the Sunday. Keith, Buckie and Findochty were fine and we even managed a bit of seal spotting @ the Gollachy ice-house. The weather wasn’t that great though and as dusk closed-in on Saturday, we ended up in Cullen intending to have a sit-in at the local chipper. It was still early however so we headed down to the Three Kings at the golf-course to take in the sea view. The writer Doris Davidson based her romantic novel The Three Kings in the town with the lead character, the orphaned Katie Mair, renaming the rock stacks as 'The Three Wise Men' - her trusted friends and the only ones to whom she could tell her troubles. Of course, ask any Scot what they associate with the Moray seaside town of Cullen and the conversation will invariably turn to Skink. Cullen Skink to be precise. A hearty chowder like soup whose main ingredients are smoked haddock, potatoes and milk w...

I was over in Huntly earlier today and picked up a copy of the Northern Scot. It’s a splendid paper and winner of more awards than I care to remember. Full of local news, it carries a good spread of feature articles. In last week’s edition, which was the one I bought, there are tales of fiddlers from Fochabers, firefighters from Buckie and, of course a leader describing how Elgin High Street is about to take on the mantle of ‘Best High Street in Britain’ . There is a new editor in post now and the broadsheet has shrunk to a tabloid. But, in the big scheme of things – and I am biased since a previous editor gave me my first start in print – the paper sure beats the hell out of most weekly rags. On page 34 there is a poignant piece by Jill Stewart – a local historian – detailing the endgame of those folk from Moray unlucky enough to have died as a result of enemy action during the first war. A lad from Findochty – died of wounds in a French hospital. A Lossie man killed at...

For the first time in nearly two years, the kitchen table is clear of books. The ‘writers box’ full of assorted press-cuttings has been consigned to the archive in the loft and the marking pens have been put away. All that remains is to edit and re-draft the next tome. And that is a milestone indeed. The folk at Inverurie library-central were not that surprised when I returned a shed-load of books and cleared my borrowing account and I am hoping that was a good sign. Mind you, given that it was 23 degrees in the Shire today and an early closing 2pm finish for the library operatives I am also not that surprised that my lorry-load addition to their stock – I am permitted to borrow a privileged number of local history books – went largely unnoticed. And that brings me neatly to the topic of the evening. The next book is yet another Aberdeenshire volume. As yet untitled, it encompasses the Shire from the year zero-dot to the present. Beaker people and pesky Romans feature alongside loc...

Seemingly supermarket giants are piloting a dementia friendly ‘relaxed’ checkout lane for customers who need to complete their shopping in a less pressured space.  Alzheimers Scotland hope that the initiative will aid folk who find the normal cut and thrust of supermarket checkout lines difficult. Pilot schemes are in place in Newcastle and at Ayr and store-staff have been provided with special training to allow sufferers to pay for their shopping at a slower pace. Laudable and welcome of course. But can you imagine the queues? Retailers could maybe take a leaf out of APA’s book. Theatre has long pioneered the concept of a relaxed immersive experience where instead of the ‘relaxed’ label, the tag ‘calm’ predominates. Aimed at the 700,000 members of the UK population on the autistic spectrum, the calm performance initiative represents a positive cultural shift in attitude towards inclusion of an audience group sometimes marginalised by the performing arts. Dick McWhitti...

We had a wee gander around Lewis Grassic Gibbon territory at the weekend. At the Kirk of St Ternan, we duly signed the visitors book before setting off to Fowlsheugh in search of puffins. Fowlsheugh is aptly named since the stench of bird-droppings is quite overpowering although some folk prefer to call the place Crawton. There are around 200k breeding seabirds on and around the sea cliffs at this time of year but there were only a very few puffins - perhaps seven in all -  and I now am wondering if the RSPB have plaster mock-ups stapled onto the seaside cliffs. Seemingly if you sign up to a public walk they will show you more at a cost of £8 for members and £14 for so-called 'Non -members'.  I prefer to be an outsider and, given the lack of facilities on-site, am quite prepared to stick to my principles. Seven puffins will do me for a lifetime methinks. Confusingly, the interpretation boards along the way sometimes refer to fish as opposed to birds and the way-mark...

A splendidly scurrilous piece in yesterdays The Times in Scotland reminded me of a roller-coaster journey made many years ago. Seemingly Glasgow Lord Provost Eva Bolander - yes, you couldn’t really make that name up – is to be chauffeured around the city in a newish Rolls Royce. Donated by some as-yet unnamed philanthropist, said Roller has the word “Go” emblazoned on it’s registration plate and is reputedly valued at a cool £200k. Not cheap then but seemingly not a donation which should concern the powers that be. A quick search on the DVLA website reveals nothing. Seemingly I must input the registration data in a valid format. Singer Tom Jones famously owned a similar Roller with the registration plate “T J BIG” so it’s defo not him. I tried googling The Big Yin, but I’m guessing he drives a sensible Skoda or perhaps even a custom trike. Now, Abu Dhabi businessman Saeed Abdul Ghaffar Khouri paid a cool £7.25million for the worlds most expensive plate in far off 2008. But his ...

Many years ago, in fact more years than I care to recall, I met a man in a pub in Inverurie. I had seen him a few times along the bar and imagined him to be some big landowner or at the very least some rich son of a gun. Deer-stalkered, he sat at the end of the bar swapping conversation with a few cronies. The conversations usually revolved around Africa, or Boston, or sometimes Portugal. Intrigued, I inveigled myself into his company. It proved to be a good move. Eventually he featured in a Leopard article or two as ‘Retired Railway engineer Joe Strachan’ and his tales of gunslinging ambushes on the railway route between Victoria Falls and death by landmine on the Mozambique railway lines will no doubt feature in an intended novel. Imagine my surprise when, during a visit today, he revealed that a street in the Zimbabwe province of Harare is named in his honour. Both Google Maps and something by the name of Geoview.com record that: “Strachan Street is next to Ardbe...

We were at HM Theatre Aberdeen reviewing Sunshine on Leith last night. It’s a splendid show, perhaps the best I've seen in a good many years,  and I recall first seeing it in around 2008 although it may have been a wee bit earlier and maybe even in Dundee.  To be honest, it’s not really any better – how after all could you improve on such perfection.   The musical first saw light at Dundee Rep in far off 2003 following a review of the back catalogues of several Scottish bands by playwright Stephen Greenhorn. Awaking from some whisky-fuelled review session, Stephen found a post-it note, written in his own hand from the night before, with the words  “Proclaimers musical?”  written on it. Sunshine on Leith was born. Since then Sunshine has morphed into film then back to stage again and now features around eighteen original Proclaimers songs from the day. It’s quite a splendid production but then, as a reviewer I would say that wouldn’t I? Well no actual...

The blogosphere is a funny old world really. An article in today’s Guardian set off a train of thought about a long dead pal. Nigel was his name if you must know, and he picked up road kill on a whim to feed his many cats. There were at one point thirteen of the feline buggers living and shitting in his living space and the sheer cost of Felix must have strained his resources to the hilt. Hence the feeding of rabbits, pheasants and the occasional flattened fox to his co-habitants. He lived in a series of variously run-down country cottages of the type commonly available in those splendidly hippie days that were the 70’s, then the 80’s and perhaps the early 90’s. His last place was a well-used caravan over at Monymusk at the back of an old mill. The kind landowner had agreed on a peppercorn rent on the basis that the mill and its adjoining miller’s house would be his for a few decades, providing he agreed to renovate it to a habitable standard. Well, Nigel was no easy tenant. An...

It’s unusual for me to post two WordPress posts on the one day however a conversation with Janice’s brother Michael, also a Catto, earlier set me thinking about a visit to the RAF at the airbase at Lossiemouth. As usual, it was something to do with an article and as usual Janice drove while I consulted notes and gathered some thoughts. We were met at the gate by a Warrant Officer. I have no idea to this day what that is; but I have to say that he was pleasant and was as nice as ninepence. In the course of the day we were taken all around the base and fed lunch, for a miniscule and probably subsidised £2-32 per person, at the officer’s mess. Following that basic but splendidly adequate aviator’s lunch sat next to some highly trained fighter-pilots, we set off around the base taking in the fast-response units and the Typhoons sitting around the maintenance hanger. There were around 4 aeroplanes parked there and, although I am probably not allowed to reveal this, all were red and s...