More items from the Retro Roamer columns of 30 years ago
Residents in the Claggan houses, which back onto the new ‘advance factory’ on the moor, have a message for the Highlands and Islands Development Board and its contractors.
The burglar alarms on the – as yet – unlit new building definitely and deafeningly work. At two in the morning, and three, four, five and 6am. Sometimes in between those hours as well. The most charitable comment I’ve heard from the Clagganites is that it’s a great pity the alarm can’t be heard in Inverness.
The number of people claiming to have seen the now famous ‘Old Inverlochy Castle Ghost’ has snowballed in the past week.
Descriptions have varied from it being a praying monk to a kilted Highlander.
I suppose it’s possible those who reckon they’ve seen the wraith didn’t hang around long enough to identify the tartan.
Senior citizens in Fort William are sorry to witness the disappearance of yet another local landmark. Aye, the old Post Office in the High Street. In the early 1900s, Fort William Post Office was open for business six days a week from 7am till 10pm and on Sundays from 9am till 10am for the sale of stamps.
The Playhouse may not have been the most architecturally inspiring building in the High Street, but now it is blighted by a boarded-up, bill-stuck, messy shop front. Highland Region Council's planning supremos make great play of ‘resisting the introduction of non-retail facilities into shop fronts in town'. Nothing tangible is happening here, so I would think this is a classic case of ‘non retail activity’.
Good to hear that the ‘GR’ – inscribed tablets on the stone gateposts at the entrance to what most locals had hoped would always be Fort William Town Park, are to be preserved. They will be tastefully incorporated into the wall of the Craigs on the other side of the road.
Here is the first offering of a three-part poem by Johnny Wilson, entitled ‘I knew them all in Corpach’. ‘The Provost was Dr MacG
A cocky robin bird was he.
Hotel keeper was MacPherson,
A corpulent, bulky person.
The Bogey, of the Cameron Clan
A chew and spit black tobacco man.
Tommy wi’ his wuddy-wuddy
Was a funny Corpach buddy.
Terror of Corpach, Peter Black Jeck,
Rough indeed and stuck out his neck
When slapping Provost in the face,
‘Twelve months probation in your case’.
John MacKinnon had a boat.
Tar – and luck – kept it afloat. Happy-go-Lucky fellow, John,
What a loss now he has gone.
Who’d forget stout Don MacMaster?
No athlete in his day ran faster.
Won a race up mighty Ben
An elder he, among worthy men.
Edward Wilson led the praise
In Free Church’s palmy days.
In his even tenor voice
The congregation would all rejoice
Neil saw Corpach’s feet all right.
Made sure their boots were watertight.
His cheery Ann made fruity duff
And on your plate she piled enough.
The Pinder’s Circus advertising posters are showing the venue for its two week visit to Fort William as ‘An Arid’. Perhaps Pinder’s know something we don’t?
A clean up of ‘Obscenity Underpass’ at the Transport Centre is weeks overdue. The writing on the walls is rapidly making Fort William a rival to Glasgow in graffiti terms – except our scribblings aren’t interesting or educational.
How about a clean-up by, say, the Job Creation Scheme? Within the week, the hint dropped in the Roamer column seems to have worked, as the underpass is, at last, to get a facelift. So, more power to the efforts of the community services Agency.
Ambulance comes down the Earl of Inverness Road into the village. Driver turns round quickly at the Police House and heads back up to the road end. Colleague jumps out and quickly and quietly picks up a couple of ‘casualties’ – two cartons of milk which had fallen out of the ambulance just down from the railway bridge.
A notoriously slow Mallaig car driver was heading along the Khyber when he observed Lachie striding out towards the Seagull City Centre. Driver winds down the window. ‘Want a lift Lachie?’ he asks. ‘No thanks,’ came the reply, ‘I’m in a hurry.’ Rather similar to the progress bei ng made up ‘Hill Road’ to the Plantation by an elderly driver in an equally elderly van. Man and van were passed going up the brae by a cyclist who shouted through the window: ‘Can’t you go any faster?’ The response was pretty quick, considering: ‘Yes, but I’m not allowed to leave the van.’
Then there was the reverent gentleman out in his Lochaber manse garden, ably assisted by a female member of his flock. Along came the inevitable local wag. ‘Oh look,’ he cried. ‘It’s Adam and Eve.’
I’d never heard of Highland Regional Council refusing money. But it appears they are doing so by not emptying the local car park coin boxes.
Worse, the poor, frustrated ‘towrists’, who try to be honest, are coming back to a different ‘ticket’ when they leave their cars without the machine ticket.