LAST SATURDAY night was a night of such purity and clarity that if I hadn't believed in a God and thought I'd like to, there was no better moment I could think of to make a start.
THE DOYENNE took one of her turns this week I blame myself; I saw it coming and should have done more to help, but probably nothing I could have said would have changed things She decided to clear out and defrost the deep freeze
I'M FAR frae Montrose, but I get it by post, / The baccy whose flavour I relish the most. / I've tried a guid wheen in the last fifty years / Of others whose praise in th' papers appears, / But I wadna gi'e saxpence an ounce for the lot / When judged by that sold by “Tobacconists Scott.” – A.B.J.
LUCK SOMETIMES favours you when you want to record something special from nature, and that's what happened to John Murphy who had his video camera to hand at just the right moment.
IT'S ALMOST five years since I began writing these Saturday pieces and I've had some wonderful encounters with nature. Knowing I've had a weekly column to fill and a deadline to meet has made me more conscious of what goes on around me when the dogs and I set out each afternoon. I'm always on the lookout for things to write about; sometimes I've been in the right place at the right time and sometimes it's been sheer good luck – as happened last Sunday.
SOMETIMES THEMES recur. Last week I wrote about barn owls and a couple of days later I was in Morayshire which is a part of the country I enjoy visiting, in no small part because of the contrast with the countryside here at home. I was walking in brilliant sunshine on the flat plain beside the coast where the RAF built its two air stations at Lossiemouth and Kinloss. But the dogs had been left behind at home this time.
STAIGER IS a Scots word and an occupation that I didn't think I had come across before. I was speaking to Colin Craigie of Brechin, retired estate joiner with The Dalhousie Estates, whose brother Norman still carries on this most traditional of Scottish occupations in Canada at the age of 76.
THE EYES caught mine in an unwavering gaze, and my own eyes were drawn to the kitten sitting in the grass, looking very wary about Inka and Macbeth. Neither dog had noticed it but as soon as I stopped they came bounding back to see why. It's remarkable how a wild animal, sitting so still, can demand attention just with its eyes.
LAST WEEK the Doyenne and I headed for a week's break on the west coast. We were blessed with near perfect weather – the Indian summer I wrote about a couple of weeks back It wasn't an action packed holiday – just days out here and there, as they say in Aberdeen – but there was time to take the dogs longer walks than they likely would have got at home.
EAST, WEST, hame's best. Montrose born and bred I'm always going to think east is best, but as far back as I can remember I have the fondest memories of holidays on the west coast.