Late in the summer of last year, around ten weeks before his own death, the fisherman Alasdair Macleod was visiting the island of Lismore and stopped in to pay his respects to the son of a farmer who had passed away. Over a dram, they reminisced, honouring the old man’s life in whisky and memory…. Read more »
Dear Andy, Thank you. Thank you for all the great games, the bitten nails and the holy grails – those three grand slams, those two Olympic golds, that Davis Cup. Thanks for the dreams come true that we were so lucky to share. The day you won Wimbledon for the first time was one of… Read more »
On a blazingly hot afternoon towards the end of June, the Cuillin ridge zigzagging above Skye like God’s own ECG, Donnie Munro stops outside his childhood home: a roughcast semi on Kitson Crescent, Portree, and points up to what had been his bedroom window. “I always said,” he smiles, “that this must be the best… Read more »
“At art school,” says Chris Macfarlane, descending, for a breather, from the stepladder in his dining room, “I don’t remember being taught how to create a twelve-foot window display of a giant whale, while telling two kids to stop stabbing themselves with safety scissors, and trying to make avocado-on-toast at the same time.” Such expert-level… Read more »
Look at Wee Jackie go. Four-foot-nine, 43 years old, gabbing non-stop, grafting non-stop, her Sunday name – Jacqueline – tattooed on the back of her neck, she shoves that wheelbarrow around the garden like Glasgow’s own Sisyphus. She’s a force of nature in whose life nature has become a positive force.