When Donald Trump arrived outside Macleod House on Menie Estate it was with a sharp “let’s get this done quick”, writes Blair Dingwall.
Following an interview, Mr Trump and I shook hands and off he went, but he did not get far before halting mid-stride by his Sikorsky S-76B, turning to ask myself, the photographers and his own estate manager collectively, “Do you want to go up?” – pointing to the heavens.
Having never been in a helicopter in my life, it was all I could do to mouth the words “really?”
Turning to his pilots, he said, “Take them up for a spin, show them a bit of the estate, the course, then bring them back down,” spinning a finger to the grey skies to indicate the intended route.
And with that he headed off to MacLeod House.
The first thing I noticed inside the helicopter was the colour gold, the belt clips, the knobs of the oaken drinks cabinet, all were gleaming the colour. Everything that wasn’t gold was beige, the leather seats, the roof, the doors.
Mr Trump stood from afar as the rotors began to whirl, the noise like some emerging cyclone. The shadows of the rotors as they whined to speed began to have a strobe like effect in the helicopter, giving me the sense I was sitting within some mechanical zoetrope.
I noticed the water which was squirting from the open mouths of the eternally roaring lions adorning an extravagant fountain outside MacLeod House were then spewing froth onto the ground around them due to the helicopter’s force. Nearby Trump and his entourage of security men looked on.
We lifted off. MacLeod House melted away into a canvas of greenery that ran for miles, beyond the estate itself, to the unmistakable peak of the Mither Tap and the endless North Sea. The photographers immediately got to work, and the sound of frenetic camera clicking filled the chopper.
We headed out over the raging waters, over the empty beaches and saw south to the vessels resting in the waters off of Aberdeen Harbour.
It was a brief visit to the skies of the north-east, and the landing – I felt – was worse than the take-off. And by that point Mr Trump and his group had made their way inside the lodge.
I left feeling in no way seduced by the wealth of Mr Trump and his organisation, but reeling at having seen my homeland from such a unique perspective. Even if it was in a helicopter laden with gold.