DA WIRM ATI DA KLIV!

I'll allow you to contemplate on the enigmatic title to this post, which briefly describes my trip "sooth" last weekend.  My Northlink discount travel vouchers for 2013/14 were about to lose their validity, so it was perhaps a form of notional thriftiness which precipitated me towards the Holmsgarth ferry terminal on the afternoon of Friday 28th March.  The last time I made this move was on Thursday April 4th last year, when my sister got married at Drum castle on the Saturday, so it's been a while.

My brother met me at the Aberdeen terminal on Saturday morning, and we soon were on the main road south of the city.  We had no definite plans as to where our journey would take us, beyond Peter's instructions to pick up a couple of trays of bedding plants at the Brechin garden centre.  This, then, was where we had our "twaal" cup, Peter bought his plants, and I took a look round the centre, which is well-stocked with kitchen goods as well as garden stuff.

Duly refreshed, we continued southwards, through Forfar before heading further inland to Kirriemuir and Glenisla (places I had never been to before).  Here I was surprised by the appearance of a largish lake, which turned out to be the Loch of Lintrathen, the south side of which we skirted to reach the attractive town of Alyth (we were now into Perthshire) and the village of Meigle, before turning northwards towards Forfar again.  All of these places had character and beauty about them, and I would need to spend more time in each of them, wandering about with my sketchbook and camera.  Sadly there just wasn't time to get any more than a mere flavour-whiff of them on this occasion.

I forgot to mention Aberlemno, between Brechin and Forfar.  My brother has an interest in Scottish history, and there are sculpted standing stones, commemmorating early battles, here.  They are at the roadside and churchyard , and we stopped on our way south to have a look, but the stones are still clad in their winter protective covers, so they were unavailable for us to view.

Like homing pigeons, we always seem to head for the Panmure Hotel at Edzell for our lunch, and this was where we dined on this occasion too.  Then we headed for the coast at Arbroath, and thence northwards.  We stopped at Gourdon, where I successfully secured another painting commission at the Harbour Bar (an excellent old-fashioned little pub), then resumed our journey back to Aberdeen, arriving at around 5pm.  I checked into the Premier Inn at the Cocket Hat, and reflected on a very enjoyable day.  The weather had been cloudy, but this mattered little.

The next day, it was my nephew who had the onerous task of being my travelling companion.  Our first stop was the all-night Asda at Brig o' Dee, where he wanted to buy some new footwear.  It was my first experience of this colossal (to my eyes!) superstore, and it was certainly an impressive temple to the gods of consumerism.  I did my best to play the part of hill-billy uncle to my red-faced nephew, as we passed the racks of women's underclothing which are a hurdle to be negotiated on the way from the front door to the gents' shoes department.  "I've got to live in this town!", he hissed in protest.

We headed north out of town, again with no definite plan or itinerary beyond the general direction.  At Mintlaw we took a westerly turn, as Kenneth fancied having a look at some of the Moray Firth towns and villages.  We stopped at New Pitsligo, which is quite a bit larger than I had previously realised.  We visited a little shop, where I bought a few provisions for the boat trip north, had a walk around town and I took a few photographs here.

My nephew wanted to take a look at Macduff, and I couldn't miss the opportunity of introducing him to the spectacular views of Gardenstown on the way.  We negotiated the precipitous gradient and hairpin bends of this cliff-clinging village, and stopped for a while at the harbour, where the water was considerably higher than the last time I was here.  My camera came in for some more use here.  After this, Macduff - an attractive town in its own right - was a bit of an anti-climax, and we turned south at the Deveron bridge.  I took a wistful look across the river at Duff House, which looked as magnificent as ever, but it is sadly no longer in the business of holding art exhibitions.  The high point of my career was definitely my 2009 show here, and I only wish I could repeat the experience, but it doesn't look as if that will be possible.

We headed down the A947, through Turriff and Fyvie, and turned left at Oldmeldrum, to reach Ellon in time for our lunch at the New Mill Hotel and the Cornkist Restaurant.  Sadly, it being Mothering Sunday, that most cynical of consumer-exploiting devices, the restaurant was fully booked, and we had to to slum it at a table in the corner of the public bar, along with the rest of the unwashed and unbooked.  In spite of this, the meal was as delicious as ever, my only complaint being that there was too much of it to finish.

Sadly, this was the last meal of my trip, and we headed back to Aberdeen.  The weather had been unfortunately cloudy throughout (it had been sunny in Shetland for most of this time!), but the change of scenery had been refreshing, if somewhat obscured in mist.  I'd need to spend time in each of the towns we visited, in order to exploit their views and scenes artistically, and there just isn't time to do all of it.  All the paintings I've created of such mainland scenes have sold, with the exception of Conzie Castle, where I made the mistake of trying to re-create the spontaneity of a moment in time, which is difficult to do in oils on canvas.

I'm more grateful than I can express to my brother and nephew for their help in these excursions.  As the mist-obscured coast of Aberdeenshire and Buchan receded behind the ferry "Hrossey", I turned my mind to the painting jobs in hand, and other matters at home.

The painting at the top of this post is my reworking of an earlier view of Muckle Flugga lighthouse, and the old Yell seine-netter "Halcyon" coming round the most northerly point of the British Isles, heading eastwards from the Atlantic Ocean to the North Sea.  The work was a recent commission, and I have more to show you in my next effort here. Have a nice week!

HOWE O' THE MEARNS

I hope you like my landscape painting of a springtime scene in Howe o' the Mearns. This area has some of Scotland's richest farmland, where newly-ploughed fields are defined by others yellow with daffodil crops, bordered by rows of hawthorn bushes. Farmhouses, barns and clumps of trees add to the attractiveness of this part of what used to be south Kincardineshire and north Angus before boundary commissions made their arbitrary and senseless decisions about which new region should contain what. The hills of Glenesk and Cairn o' Mount are in the misty distance.

I was down in this area last Saturday, the main reason for my trip "south" being to use up my remaining two concessionary vouchers, for Northlink Ferries, (of which we 60-plus people get issued with four a year), before they became invalid on the 1st April. It's rather a good scheme, and I hope it survives the "austerity" measures through which the poor citizens of this country are going to pay for the extravagances of the rich. It was ever thus - why should it be different now?

The weather was disappointing for much of last Saturday. It rained on and off for much of the day, precluding any photography while it was in "on" mode. My brother and I first visited Stonehaven, then Catterline, the venue for my next Scottish mainland exhibition. The latter has been affected by landslides over the winter, although not as much as the former to the north. We next had a wander round Johnshaven harbour, which was much emptier of boats than last time we were here, and the tide was even lower. On to St. Cyrus we travelled, hoping to have a pot of tea and bacon-buttie at the Old Baker's Shop Cafe (which my brother can remember as a functioning bakery), but the place was closed. Over tea and scones at the St. Cyrus Hotel, the proprietrix told us that the cafe owners had emigrated to Dubai.

We headed inland from here, pausing for a few minutes to admire the splendid view west from the summit of the Hill of Garvock, where the whole of the Howe o' the Mearns stretches out from Laurencekirk to the crouching animal shape of the Hill of Wirren beyond Fettercairn. Last Saturday, however, the hill was obscured by mist. One of my favourite scenes is the red brick houses which lie to the left, as one approaches Fettercairn from the east on the B9120. The rain was holding off at this time, so I made my brother stop the car (in a massive pothole!) here while I got some digi-pictures of this. I intend to paint this scene soon.

On to Edzell, and lunch, as it always seems to be, was taken at the Panmure Arms Hotel there. It was excellent, as always. I had the beef olives, while my brother went for the haddock. Our next stop was Brechin, and I have not set foot in this attractive place since I once hitch-hiked from Aberdeen to Edinburgh on the inland route (big mistake - the jouney took nine hours!) in 1968. Instead of passing through the city, we parked the car and went for a walk through some of its streets, visiting the ancient cathedral, which was scaffolded inside and out, so there is obviously some extensive restoration taking place here. Under leaden skies, we walked for a while by the river South Esk, before setting off in the rain to Auchmithie, near Arbroath, where a welcome cup of tea awaited us at the home of our old friend from schooldays at Sandwick, Shetland, by the name of Kenneth Bull.

Kenneth, an architect by trade, and now in semi-retirement, has lived, with his wife, son and supercilious tabby-cat, in an old coastguard station atop a cliff at Auchmithie for many years. (The government wants all coastguard stations to be converted into private dwellings soon, and we are in the process of persuading them what a bad idea this is!). Kenneth gave us the sad news of the demise of the aforementioned cat during the winter. Although cats take a more realistic view of their own mortality than we humans do, I well know how distressing the loss of a pet cat can be, having witnessed the passing, some more suddenly than others, of some well-beloved ones of my own.

And then it was back up the coast road to Aberdeen, where we arrived at the Premier Inn next to the Cocket Hat just before 6pm. I checked in, had a rest, then had an evening meal and a pre-arranged pint with my old friend Alan Johnson later that evening. No sign of Lenny Henry anywhere, but I did see another couple of Shetlanders, who were obviously also overnight guests, occupying another table in the bar of the Cocket Hat. Wherever you go in this world, you'll find that a Shetlander is somewhere in the neighbourhood!