I’m going to kill her. One more nineties Clubland classic, and I’ll do it, I swear. We rejoin the A9 again and this time I pick the music. If Iona’s so intent on dragging us out to the middle of God knows where, then I would like to do it […]
56°49’0.257″N / 4°11’2.267″W Read More »
As the sun sets in the distance, dark clouds hang in the sky above, absorbing the last glimmer of daylight. Ben, a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a thin beard, stares through the windscreen of his small, worn-down car while he waits at the traffic lights. He thinks about
It was in the year of our Lord 1778, when I, Frank Aaron McDougall, made voyage from Ireland, carried upon the wind of freedom was I bound towards that shining light across the sea, to meet up with me brother Newly and his kinfolk, in the Carolinas. It was a
‘Down Here’. Those were the words my friend whispered to me that night, and though a year has passed, they still fester in my mind, shapeless and meandering like a blinding fog. When I entered his house the lights at the front were off. Outside, the weather was still; the
Jack Mckay huddled in the cold midnight street with a pale green sleeping bag encasing his lower half. Spindled trails of light reflected off the gleaming roads from damp lampposts. But the cold wasn’t what gave Jack his nightly jitters—not by a long shot. The small flame bewitched his green
The Molendinar Burn Read More »
Scotland is one of those places that seems to never really be simple, or summed up neatly into a couple of words. Sure, you can try, the tourists certainly do: tartan, booze and heavy accents; but I’ve lived here all my life, never worn tartan nor drunk (although I suppose
