This is a snap from Horizon Scotland, the Innovation and Incubation Centre in Forres, Moray. When I posted it on Flickr, a long and fasinating discussion ensued on the meaning and roots of the words Quine and Loon - follow it here
The conversation brought to mind a great story from my father - who was 81 on Monday - who was brought up in a Scots speaking family and society in the NE. When he was a toddler, in the winter of 1926/27 he was being pushed around the streets of Aberdeen by his mother, when they met James Scot Skinner, the famous Fiddle Player. This must have been just in the months before his death. My Grandmother knew him slightly and they stopped to make conversation. Now remenber in those days little boys tended to be dressed in Edwardian Sailor suit style, and their hair was left to grew long and curly, until they were 4 or 5.
Scot Skinner peered into the pram, and remarked "My my Mistress Davidson, that's a bonny looking Quine", and was greeted with the shocked reply
"I'm no a quine - I'm a Loon!"
The racing season is now approaching, so Magnus's training schedule now includes a daily 20 km cycle to school. His brother has to take his school bag for him on the bus, or I have to take it in the car and meet him there.....
We have all been watching the Scottish Cycling team in the Commonwealth games a bit obbesively, though with obvious pleasure at their success. The bizarre thing is that some of the coaching staff we see on TV are same ones that coach Magnus the rest of the year.
Scotlands a wee place.
A Kinloss based Royal Air Force Nimrod MR2P making an approach to Inverness (Dalcross) Airport. They make three or four circuits with wheels and flaps down, but never land.
When the east wind blows my office is right under the approach to Dalcross, so snapped as I parked my car after returning from a city centre meeting. My photography was seen from the office windows by my colleagues, who then ridiculed me as a planespotter....
A photo by JD Ratter the famous Shetland Photographer. Dates from around 1880. This is a scan of a copy that hangs on our stairs.
The view is of a barque moored in Brei Wick, a bay just south of the town of Lerwick. Looks to me as if the photo has been taken from near where the Shetland Hotel now is.
As I kid in the 60's we lived in Sound, on the outskirts of Lerwick, and this was the view as we walked to school, minus the sailing ship of course.
There was always a hand coloured copy - yellow sunbursts - in our hall when I was a kid, in fact my parents still have it. I must try and replicate with Photoshop.
The snow is back - and is now going again - but boy was it deep and not at all crisp and even. Very wet and very heavy. This snap shows the Sutor at about 9:00 this morning, and the snow continued until lunchtime. Thawed thereafter, but still lots about.
My last post - yesterday - perhaps hinted that I thought that Magnus's training session was cancelled cos "sissy Southerners shout Uncle at the first sign of a snowflake". Well I was wrong, Very wrong. A9 blocked in three places, airports closed etc etc.
Oooooops....
I'm feeling both a bit relieved and disappointed. I've just got my Sunday back, after a day trip to Dundee has just been cancelled. A Magnus cycling trip of course , but it seems that the sissy Southerners shout Uncle at the first sign of a snowflake. It was going to be a long day - leave here at 7:00 and not home till 8:00, but I had planned to meet up with Charlie, who was going to train through from Stirling and then we were going to go photo walking.
Well lots more opportunities, cos as sure as death I will be travelling around Scotland most weekends for most of the rest of the year with bikes in back of the car....
Anyway - Mum and Dad were up last weekend, on route to Coldbackie, with their new 4*4, to up and down the road to the house. We all went out to Sutors Creek - the place of employment for Hamish and Magnus of a weekend - and of course I took my camera. Charles - my Dad - has a "look" when his photo is taken. Always has, and always will, but Ruth managed to break his reserve with a wonderful "Rabbit ears" moment.