Regular readers of this column know of my inclination to quote poetry, especially from the abundance of our Scottish vernacular poetry which I increasingly believe is a neglected tradition, a forgotten strand of our cultural emotional output.
A small feathered body, looking for all the world like a withered leaf, lay in the grass below our sitting room window. It was a chiff chaff which had flown headlong into the glass and killed itself. Probably the way the light was reflecting off the glass at the time confused the bird into thinking that the window space was safe to fly through.
Tales of the salmon fishing at Kinnaber in last week’s column brought back memories of his own youth for a Montrose reader. He remembers the days when commercial salmon fishers Joseph Johnston & Sons Ltd were one of the major employers in Montrose, providing seasonal work to a small army of local men, as well as year-round employment for office staff, boat builders and other support staff.
At 6 p.m. on Friday 31st August 2018, as laid down by statute, a small bit of our Scottish cultural heritage ceased, probably never to be revived. The sweep nets on the Kinnaber beat, at the mouth of the River North Esk, were taken off the water – for the last time.
I’m sitting at my desk wondering how to start this week’s piece and a friendly spider has provided the answer. I’ve been watching her – or maybe it is him – repairing holes in its web, spun in the corner of my study window, to ensure no passing beastie, and potential lunch, flying into it can escape.