Duncan Harley

It’s a funny old world. Following on from last nights review of Company at Aberdeen Arts Centre, I have been variously insulted and attacked by those who should perhaps know better. In the big scheme of things, that is the price of review tickets. Not many folk know this, but apart from a free programme and a press drink at half-time, that is all us reviewers get for our efforts. Yes, there is of course a free seat in the best seats in the house. And yes, it is such a privilege to be freely admitted to every performance of every production ever to grace the stage. But, and I say this gratefully, there is a cost. The process of reviewing involves not only the viewing of the production but the penning and the thinking as well. An overnight reflection is often good. But some deadlines don’t allow such pleasures. I am generally privileged and have 12 hours or so to sort out my thoughts. And, I think that that is a godsend. Some of my fellow hacks are not so lucky and have to pre-wri...

Alongside the penning of books – and yes, there is yet another on the way – I have aspired to be a feature writer on occasion. As an avid reader of the weekend papers I have long admired the Observer Magazine’s ‘A Brush with Greatness’ column. Typical topics are ‘The day Van Morrison remembered me’, ‘The day Keith Richard joined us at the Test Match’ and ‘Back in my early 20s, I was a camera assistant for a photographer named Jeff Riedel.’ All good and all really interesting. I got to thinking that I too must have brushed against some greatness. I have briefly met some Royals, but not intimately, and can claim to have chatted with Russel Grant in the basement of an Aberdeen hotel. Then there was that day when Margaret Thatcher’s limo almost ran me off the road on a return trip from the Isle of Skye. Which to use? Then it hit me: I had met the Dalai Lama – or at least, I thought that I had met him. For reasons which completely escape me, the Observer Magazine have never used the pi...