The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Wedding bells for couple weeks after woman throttled during drunken row
court: Sheriff gives offender go-ahead to walk up the aisle
A Mearns man who throttled his longterm girlfriend has been cleared by a sheriff to walk her up the aisle next week.
Forfar Sheriff Court heard Graham Leslie’s relationship with Margaret Price has had its share of booze-related “ups and downs” but the couple are due to tie the knot at the end of next week.
The nuptials were given the go-ahead but only after the 61-year-old was warned “things can’t go on like this”.
Depute fiscal Kirsten Thomson told the court that the couple had been in a relationship for around 10 years. On August 1, after they had been drinking together, Leslie went out to buy more alcohol.
“He returned around 3.20pm, an argument ensued and he approached her as she was sitting on a chair and grabbed her by the throat with both hands,” said the fiscal.
“She asked him to let her go and shortly afterwards made her way to the bathroom to call police because she was frightened.
“She then went back to the living room to await the arrival of police and the accused then started shouting at her, acting in an aggressive manner.”
Leslie, formerly of Montrose and now Scotston Place, St Cyrus, then went up to bed and when officers arrived he told them that the relationship was “having its ups and downs”. He added: “She kicked off first.” Defence solicitor Nick Markowski told the sheriff that the accused had a long history of dependency on alcohol.
“They plan to get married next Friday. There are massive gaps in his offending – when he is not drinking he is not offending, but they are going to be staying together and that is a massive powderkeg,” added Mr Markowski.
Sheriff Pino Di Emidio told Leslie: “Given your record and previous disposals, the question of imprisonment is at the top of my mind in this matter.
“The social work report suggests a high tariff structured deferred sentence which puts you under a considerable degree of supervisory involvement.
“I think it must be clear to you that things just can’t go on like this.
“On a previous occasion when you were put on this regime it hasn’t worked, but in your own best interests it’s very important that it does work this time,” said the sheriff.
Leslie was given a three-month high tariff deferral.
from one end to the other, Paxos doesn’t take long to get around, though roads can be tricky to navigate. We easily get lost amid rural roads, while trying to avoid pedestrians, shush unbelievably excited children and translate Greek road signs. We pass giant pots planted up with cacti, aloe vera and lavender, watched over by gnarly old olive trees, as holey as honeycomb.
When compared with overcrowded Corfu, it seems crazy that so few make the extra journey to experience the peace of Paxos.
We head into Gaios, admiring the perky pink and white flowers on the Oleander trees that line the road.
A quarter of Paxos’ permanent residents live here (about 600), where the Venetian flagstoned square leads to a picturesque harbour, and at sunrise fishermen sell their catch on marble slabs.
Tavernas spill out onto pavements and, strangely, there are a couple of fish spas.
For the best food, we’re told to go to Loggos, where the multicoloured shops, bars and restaurants all perch on the water’s edge, with rustic wooden boards advertising their wares.
We find a craggy bit of headland near Lakka, Paxos’ most northerly tip, where giant rocks peer over and stand tall from the sea. The girls while away time making stone towers out of pebbles while I investigate a growing green mass with bulbous, almost pod-like ends, that I’m certain must be edible.
Luscious lemon trees with fruit as yellow as the sun wave in the wind, as we head out on a boat trip to Antipaxos, a small island a few kilometres south of Paxos, on our final day. Looking back at Loggos, it almost looks like Nyhavn in Copenhagen, the painted properties fading into the distance.
We spend a full day exploring aboard sightseeing boat Lefcothea, which costs 50 Euros for all four of us (after a little haggling in the shop at the port), stopping to admire ancient rock formations on the way.
We float past layer upon layer of mossy grey and white limestone cliffs, swirled and whipped up like messy meringue, while others look like the curled slices of a supersized BLT.
We pull into Voutoumi, a small, slightly sandy beach (most shorelines are adorned with pebbles in Paxos), where the colour of the sea matches the cloudless sky.
“It’s like a sunset in the sea,” says Rosie, describing how the colour of the ocean changes from clear to turquoise, into azure and navy.
When we return to Britain’s less sunny shores, I ask if they’d like to holiday in Paxos again. “Yakka chakka!” comes the reply. I’ll take that as a yes.