The Doric Column

Nae fabled Wizard’s wand I trow

Had e’er the magic hand o Gow.

Robert Burns on Niel Gow

By Robbie Shepherd

Published:

IT WIS oot afore I ken’t o masel fin a freen I hidna seen es fyle bumpit intil’s wi a ‘fit like’.

‘Nae that ill, aye keepin the heid abeen the watter’, wis ma response an for aa that I kent he micht o been fae the Steenhive or Huntly airt.

Losh, ere wis me ready tae tell onybody an aabody on foo it took’s a fower oors tae win hame fae the Glenfiddich Fiddle Championships at Blair Castle last Sunday nicht bit syne we wis tae fin oot jist foo lucky we wis, nae only tae win hame, bit that hoose an ha’ escaptit the hellish hairtbraks befa’in sae mony.

I wisna drivin bit it maun o been the warst car hurl I wis ivver in – ‘throwe flood or field tae dash, oh how unfit’ - sma beer noo I ken the extent o’t aa.

It wis my privilege tae be ‘Fear an Tighe’ eence mair at the twentieth eer o the prestigious competition in the Ballroom o the Castle, fair enjoyin the playin, wi the portrait o Niel Gow hingin doon at the back o the stage the inspiration tae the very talentit young fiddlers vyin for the title o Champion o 2009.

Oor neuk o Scotland wis weel represenit wi Nicola Auchnie o’ Turra, Graeme Davidson o’ Banchory, Barbara Anderson o’ Huntly an Jack Smedley o’ Cullen an the standard sae high as the eicht players sail’t throwe sustain’t playin athoot a note o music.

Ma hairt gaed oot tae young Nicola fa wis second last eer an hid tae be content wi the runner-up spot eence mair. She play’t sae weel an there wis feow that widna o’ hid her first fin she cam aff stage bit syne alang cam an auchteen-eer-aul aa the wye fae a sma placie in Oregon in the United States o America. The lass, bi the name o Rebecca Lomnicky, only cam on Scottish Fiddle Music a nine eer syne. Ye jist hid tae see the wye she pit body an soul inta her performance tae ken she fully understauns fit oor music is aboot. Haein said that there wis naething atween her an Nicola bit Rebecca cam tap o the cream wi the judges es time roon.

I interview’t her a twa days ago for ma wikkeyn ‘Take The Floor’ programme an, haein warsl’t sair wi ma Doric tongue aa efterneen at Blair Castle, she wis a thochtie nervous that she michtna ken fit I wis speirin at. Her mum hid a quaet wird wi ma producer tae tell me tae slow doon a bit - ay an me, as I telt ye last wikk, trackin in a new tap raa o teeth. We got on nae that ill, a fine quine an I wish her weel.

Sae back tae last wikk’s column wi an email anent it. Es aal couple were oot for their denner an plac’t an order for a salad, sikkin twa plates. On bein serv’t, the mannie proceedit tae divide aathing up sae pernickity like, richt doon tae the spring ingins an the chips. They hid the ae gless o wine atween them as weel.

They each took a sook oot o the gless, an he began tae wire inta his platefu o salad, fowkies roon aboot keekin ower an fusperin tae een anither.

They hid teen it intae their heids that the couple cwid only afford the ae meal an, as the mannie got hammin in, a young lad cam forrit an offer’t tae buy anither portion.

He wis tellt that they were fine – they were used ‘tae sharin aathing’. Fowk nearer haun the table notic’t that the umman body hidna teen a bite. She sat ere watchin her man chawin awa bit takkin turns fyles sippin at the gless o wine.

Again the young loon cam ower an got the same response.

‘No thank ye, we’re ees’t tae sharin aathing’.

Finally the mannie clean’t his plate an, dichtin his moo wi his napkin, promptit the young cheil tae come ower again an speir at the wife

‘What is it you are waitin for?’

‘The teeth!’ wis the reply.

Mine’s beddit in noo. Thank ye for askin.

See ye neist wikkeyn.