If you were to ask my dad where he’s from, he would tell you, firmly, Buchanhaven.
Not Peterhead, not the north-east of Scotland, not a fishing town close to Aberdeen, but Buchanhaven. It’s a fundamental part of who he is.
It’s a long time since he lived in his flat on Skelton Street above my grandparents’ shop, but the sense of belonging he grew up with has never left him.
When I was a little girl, I would spend many a weekend there – there was nothing I enjoyed better than a rummle aroon the back store or a dig into the pick-and-mix. But what I looked forward to most of all was the sense of community I felt all around me while there.
My family’s business had been part of the fabric of Buchanhaven for decades. Many folks would have known it as Auld Oxy’s Pat’s. But formally it was Peter Buchan’s The Grocer.
My family was not alone. There was a stack of similar independent businesses to serve the very close, tight-knit, working-class community.
Across the road, you had Muggy Hooja’s and Chipper Elsie’s, and doon the brae was Dock’s the butcher. Funny names, I hear you say. But the businesses were dubbed as such because they were about the people who owned and ran them, not really what they sold.
This was almost 40 years ago, and today none of those shops remain. But I can bet you that the sense of community does.
‘Home’ is a community, not bricks and mortar
Buchanhaven is not unique in this way. In fact, I would hazard a guess that most of our small, fishing communities around the north-east are much and such the same.
I’m sure my dad is not alone in his sense of identity being rooted in the place where he grew up. Because, in many ways, it’s the community you call home, not the bricks and mortar around you. The school, the shops, the chippers, the football pitches, the lady next door who babysits for the whole street, the window cleaner, the pub.
Without these things, what are you left with? In short, a roof over your head, which I would argue could be anywhere.
And plenty of people opt for that way of life. I, myself, live in a flat on a street where I don’t know any of my neighbours well. But there’s something really sad about that.
I couldn’t help thinking about this when I heard about folk in Torry being evacuated from their own community. Hundreds of homes could be demolished after potentially dangerous concrete was found sitting in their roofs.
This all happened suddenly. Without warning. Under the council’s plans, they will be relocated and forced to adjust to a new way of life within months.
Not just houses emptied but lives upturned
These are not just houses being emptied – they are lives being upturned. Never mind the thousands of pounds these people will have put into their properties, nor the memories they have within the walls. They will be asked to leave not only their homes but their communities, too.
Residents feel so strongly about leaving the 1960s builds, some were pledging to sit it out. “I’m not moving unless I have no option. I have been in Torry all my life,” one said. And I don’t blame them.
For years, Torry has been considered a dumping ground, and I don’t think its residents will mind me saying so
At the very least, these people need reassurance that the very best will be done by them. For years, Torry has been considered a dumping ground, and I don’t think its residents will mind me saying so.
The building of incinerators and sewage plants, and the loss of public green space due to the energy transition zone – however beneficial this may be in the long run – are all bones of contention for those who live there. And now this.
Torry residents deserve better
While it is not the fault of the current administration that we’re in this situation, today council officials have to ensure that they handle this sensitively, with these people in mind, and to the best of their ability.
And I would urge the council not only to consider their tenants, but also people who bought these homes from the local authority, too. How could they ever know this was to be the outcome of their purchase?
For the hundreds of affected people living in Torry won’t just be losing their homes – they’ll be losing their neighbours, the closeness of their friends, and a way of life some have only ever known.
Last week’s news left me saddened for them. I can only imagine what the outrage would be like if someone was to drive a bulldozer through the sturdy granite homes of Buchanhaven.
I hope, for what it’s worth, that the majority can remain in Torry, where they have built a life. Because to remove them from the area is as bad as removing part of their identity.
Rebecca Buchan is deputy head of news and sport for The Press and Journal and Evening Express
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