After the bloodbath

a pig in Venice
After the bloodbath of the night before, all seemed quiet in the ward. The blond bigmouth in the corner lay curled up beneath his hospital blanket and the sun streamed in through the blinds at the far end. An occasional phone went and the buzzers summoned the bustling staff.
Us of us patients who could, slept or read. And, just above the hum of the air-conditioning, an occasional snore could be heard.
The blood-man, for that is what we called him after the night before, had quietened down and was brought back into the ward. Bigmouth continued to complain to anyone who walked past. Seemingly he had been a victim of the night before and had had to have his bed changed due to spilt blood soaked urine. Shamefully he told the night’s tale to the relatives next day despite ample warning from bed four that all that happens in the ward, stays in the ward. Such abominable patients can be a pain.
Naked and full of good intentions, the blood-man had – in the best possible taste – become unpopular. But what he had done must remain secret, for if revealed then heads might roll and his unpopularity might become infamy amongst his peers. And, we shouldn’t countenance that at any cost.
Suffice it to say that he had lost both his Press and Journal newspaper plus a full three pages from the Daily Telegraph. The loss of the P and J was easily solved. They say they sell 60 thousand of the bloody things each day in Aberdeen alone and the man in bed two happily donated a copy to compensate the blood-man’s loss.
As for the Telegraph, we were all at two’s and three’s. After all, the blood-man’s wife had seemingly taken the missing pages. “I can’t find three of the pages of my Telegraph” he had said “My wife has probably taken them. It’s exactly the sort of thing she might do” he concluded.
We, apart from the blond bigmouth – who was by that time AWOL and possibly meeting a friend with vodka at the lift on level three – remained sceptical. But, of course you never really know what’s going through a man’s mind.
Maybe Mrs Blood-man had it in for the man. Or maybe she was simply looking out for him. Or maybe it was all in his imaginary world of pain, urine and shit.

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Jane Eyre @ HMT – Duncan Harley Reviews

Source: Jane Eyre @ HMT – Duncan Harley Reviews

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Orange is the new blue

I had to think about the election result for a moment. In fact over a few hours I struggled to make some sense of it all.
Never a great fan of politicians, I did place a vote and I assumed that all would be well. A few friends did not vote and that perhaps is why Alex Salmond has been ousted in Gordon by such a narrow margin. In Moray we have allegations of a bullying candidate gaining a seat. Elsewhere, the recriminations carry on.
I was put off politicians following that Clegg led 2010 Lib-con coalition and am glad that the silly man has been ousted at last. What a betrayal that was. The voters of Gordon seemed not to notice but why Lord Malcolm of Bennachie, god help his cotton-socked name, continued to pound on my door escapes me. After all, his political secretary accused me of muck spreading on the occasion of his elevation to the Lords.
At least that old hoary failure Brown was not trotted out much on this occasion and in the big scheme of things that at least is a plus.
As for the alliance of May with the gunslingers of the Emerald Isle, I am aghast. It’s only a few years since the British Army were sent to wipe them out.
Perhaps I am just an angry old man but it seems to me that something is badly wrong in Theresa-May-land.
I diverse of course. Perhaps it is time for a Scottish Spring. Mind you, look what happened in North Africa.
In the meantime we have a ConDUP alliance in the Palace of Westminster dictating to the country.
DUP? I had never heard of them until today either except in a negative sense. Composed of ex-terrorist’s and ex-extremist’s they have associations with Loyalist death squads and murderers.
Against gay marriage and abortion they were recently implicated in a scam involving green energy. The Tories complained about Labours supposed links to terrorists during the election campaign. Now they want to go into coalition with people with a history of backing terrorism.

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The mid 19th century was a period of rapid industrial growth both in the North-east of Scotland and throughout the British Empire. The boom-and-bust times of railway expansion had opened up new markets and stimulated engineering innovation on a scale rarely seen before.
From humble beginnings supplying the likes of the Great North of Scotland Railway’s seemingly insatiable demand for cast iron fence posts and level-crossing gates, Harpers were soon exporting cast-iron pre-fabricated pedestrian suspension bridges right across the globe.
Engineered and manufactured in kit form at their Aberdeen foundry and using innovative techniques gleaned from long experience in the designing of fences, the Harper products required little local engineering expertise to either assemble or construct, making them popular choices in developing countries. These instantly recognisable and iconic bridges – with spans of up to 91m – provided many decades of service in places as diverse as Nepal, South Africa and even the Falkland Islands.
Prior to the manufacture of bridges, Harper’s concentrated on the manufacturing of fence posts and strainers.
On a walk around Scolty woods at Banchory, we chanced upon a pair of 140 year old Harper’s Patented Strainers.

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Trump Trump Trump Trump

Nanny Abercrombie’s Windmill

By Duncan Harley

When Presidential hopeful Donald Trump began his tirade against Scotland’s renewable energy policy year he famously commented “”I don’t want to be standing on the first tee looking into an industrial wind turbine if I’m going to be spending all this money” and “we will spend whatever monies are necessary to see to it that these huge and unsightly industrial wind turbines are never constructed.” Perhaps he would be persuaded otherwise if he were to pay a even a fleeting visit to one of Aberdeenshire’s hidden gems, the Glassaugh Windmill just east of Sandend on the Buchan coast. Both used to blow in the wind.

At first glance, the windmill can easily be mistaken for a Pictish Broch or even a Martello Tower. Set back over 500 metres from the A98 between Portsoy and Cullen the structure has a covering of ivy which masks the outline and suggests a tower house with a walled garden circling around the base. Nothing could be further from the truth however!

In common with much of the Banff and Buchan coastline, the area around Sandend is full of Pictish remains. These are often built over or indeed incorporated in later structures such as farm houses, churches and dykes. The Glassaugh Windmill is just such a building.

General James Abercrombie of Glassaugh was as his title suggests a military man. He was born in 1706 to a wealthy Banffshire family and as was the custom of the time, he purchased a major’s commission to enter the army in 1742. He was promoted to colonel in 1746 and major-general in 1756. He is credited with having good organisational skills but little understanding of the art of warfare and was known to his troops as “Mrs Nanny Abercrombie” because of his skills at provisioning and providing creature comforts such as tents and hot food on the long marches through North America during the French and Indian War of 1689-1763.

Unfortunately, in the July of 1758 he met his “Charge of the Light Brigade” moment when he rather rashly directed his troops into a frontal assault on a fortified French position without the benefit of artillery support. More than 2,000 of his force of 15,000 were killed or wounded resulting in the good general being recalled to Britain where he duly became a member of parliament supporting the cause of British dominion over the Northern Territories of America and Canada. No surprises so far then.

When Major General Abercrombie MP returned to his native Scotland he of course took over the running of the family estate at Glassaugh and possibly lacking much to do in the parliament of the day he began organising the improvement of the agricultural economy of the area.

This was a time of land improvement and land enclosure. Labour was plentiful and indeed cheap as a large number of Irish Catholics had been disposed by the influx of English and Scottish aristocracy and had in many cases sought work on the land in Scotland. What was Major General Abercrombie MP to do?

He had been a poor general indeed but had as has been said, had good organisational skills. In the true spirit of Jaroslav Hašek’s Good Soldier Švejk which is essentially a series of absurdly comic episodes, Abercrombie decided to build a windmill.

Now, in those far off days, most mills were powered by water. There are tens of thousands of watermills in the UK and at a guess there must be at least one in every inhabited town and village in Aberdeenshire. Transport was improving during the 1750’s but local flour and grain mills were still the order of the day and met the needs of the townships and small communities all around the shire. Windmills were not unknown in the North East, but were not that common due to the ease and availability of waterpower. The good General however decided that wind was the way to go.

As any engineer will know, the biggest challenge in building large structures is the sourcing of building materials. If you need to build a wall then you will require large quantities of heavy and difficult to transport stone. The shorter the journey from quarry to building site the better.

Well, it just so happened that Major General Abercrombie had a ready made supply of building materials in the form of a bronze age burial cairn. The folk who had built the cairn would have no objections to its recycling after all and of course Scottish Natural Heritage was not even a slight smile in the womb of the Natural Heritage (Scotland) Act 1991.

The Cup and Saucer was born. Using the materials from the ancient cairn, Abercrombie bade his workers to build an enormous windmill four stories high and with a tapering tower topped with white sails. It must have been the sight of the century for folk who had never travelled further than Sandend or Portsoy.

How long Abercrombie’s windmill was in full tilt is not recorded, however in a letter dated 23rd August 1761, the good general advised his daughter that high winds had almost blown off “the pompon of the wind mill which was only set up yesterday.”

The ivy covered stump of the structure is all that remains today to remind us of the man who had the vision to build it.

Mind you, when you think about it, you’re actually looking at a Bronze Age burial cairn undergoing a Tibetan sky burial.

Perhaps the man who would be President should re-visit his homeland for a few more hours.

© Images and words – Duncan Harley

(c) Stupidity – Donard Tlump

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The Battle of George Square

The 31st of January is of course the anniversary of the Great Storms of 1953.  It’s also the date of the demise of the Young Pretender – Charles Edward Stuart – in Rome in 1788 after a protracted relationship with Brandy.
But who remembers the Battle of George Square which took place on the 31st January 1919?

They don't like it up em 6

Picture the scene if you will.

The “War to end all wars” has recently ended and the troops have returned home to discover that all is not well in Scotland. There are few jobs for the returning heroes and working conditions are poor with low wages and a long working week.

The workforce which had been in reserved occupations manufacturing the arms and tools for war are unhappy with the cuts in the standard working week due to the fact that the war has ended and there is no longer much demand in France for barbed wire, bullets and explosives.

Plus of course the Bolshevist revolution has taken place leading to the early demise of the Russian Royal Family by a firing squad.

So on Friday 31st January 1919, after a general strike by 40,000 workers in the industrial heartland of Scotland, there was a mass rally in Glasgow’s George Square.  Now the aim of the rally was to hear the response of the UK government to the workers demands so the Lord Provost, Sir James Watson Stewart, and the Trades Council President, Mannie Shinwell, duly entered the City Chambers to have a wee natter.

Sadly things got out of control. As they talked, the Glasgow police baton charged the assembled crowd. A local magistrate tried to read the Riot Act but had the document taken from his hands and ripped up and things just got from bad to worse.

Seasoned troops from south of the border were instructed to open fire if required to do so.

The failure of the police to control the riot prompted the Coalition Government under David Lloyd George to react. After Scottish Secretary Robert Munro described the riot as a “Bolshevist uprising” troops armed with machine guns, tanks and a howitzer arrived to occupy Glasgow’s streets.

The howitzer was positioned on the City Chambers steps facing the crowd, the local cattle market was transformed into a tank depot, machine guns were posted on the top of the North British Hotel, the Glasgow Stock Exchange and the General Post Office Buildings.

sarg 1

As is usual in such situations no local troops were used. The Scot’s battalions who had recently returned from France were confined in Maryhill Barracks while seasoned troops from south of the border were instructed to open fire if required to do so.

Amazingly, there was no major bloodshed as far as I am led to believe. There must have been broken heads and limbs via the initial police action but I can find no record of deaths.

The troops did not open fire although the tanks were deployed in Glasgow’s George Square. I can only assume that the government of the day decided that it would be a bad idea to provoke social change via bloodshed and risk a revolution.

Mannie Shinwell and some other trade union activists were jailed for a bit and a 47 hour working week was agreed. Until the 1922 General Strike, things smouldered on of course, but that’s another story.

I have no information about what transpired in Aberdeen or Aberdeenshire on the 31st January 1919 and would ask folk to get in touch with any memories of that day. I did however find a reference to Aberdeen Trades Council discussing the issue and agreeing to mount a protest against the “continued imprisonment of the Clyde Strikers” and I have no doubt that given the politics of the time there must have been folk from the North East not only attending the demonstrations but serving with in the military in the area.


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Plain-speaking Trump

Most sentient beings would recognise that they are in trouble when even Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu body swerves you.
Donald Trump has seemingly simply put plans to meet the man on hold until such time as he becomes the 45th President of the USA.

topiary 004 b and w

Despite this, Inverness man Donald J. Morrison in a letter to the editor of the Aberdeen Press and Journal, sides with “Plain-speaking Donald Trump” and in addition offers Nicola Sturgeon, Scotland’s First Minister, a fully paid one way ticket to oblivion.

Here, for your bemusement is the letter as published on page 26 of today’s edition:

“Sir, – Having launched his bid for the White House a few months ago, Donald J. Trump – whose mother came from Lewis – continues to be embroiled in controversy because he has the guts to say what others daren’t say.
His sentiments that there should be stricter scrutiny of Muslims wishing to enter his country should be endorsed. Although what he has said recently concerning a total ban may not have been “politically correct” it is becoming apparent that he is fast becoming the mouthpiece of what ordinary people across his nation are thinking and saying.
Whether you love or loath him, Mr Trump has to be admired for speaking honestly and directly on issues that have to be said, instead of rambling and waffling on about what people want to hear – to win votes and hearts.
There is no doubt that his comments have hit the nail on the head with many ordinary Americans, over live issues they are deeply concerned about and which they want addressed.
I sincerely hope that this perceptive, robust, honest-talking, plain-speaking American, whose Scottish blood is strong and his heart is Highland, becomes the next president of the United States.
If somehow he doesn’t make it to the White House, he would make for an ideal candidate for the less-grand office of first minister at Holyrood. I would happily nominate him, and at the same time joyfully offer Nicola Sturgeon a one-way ticket out of Scotland.

Donald J. Morrison
Old Edinburgh Road,

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