AUCTION IS NOW CLOSED.
Thank you for your bids
GREAT STUFF UP FOR AUCTION
AUCTION CLOSES FRIDAY 19 DECEMBER AT 5.00pm.
We've got some great stuff up for auction to help our fundraising for the RNLI. Please send us a bid and solve your Christmas present dilemmas!
SCOTLAND RUGBY SHIRT
First, courtesy of the lovely people at the Scottish Rugby Union, a large Scotland shirt, autographed by the senior squad. Absolute quality.
Current highest bid: £65.00
SUE LAWRENCE BOOKS
The well-known author and cook Sue Lawrence has kindly donated three of her excellent books - Feasting on Herbs, Sue Lawrence on Salads, and Sue Lawrence’s Book of Baking - all signed by the author.
Current highest bid (for all three): £30.00
CORRINA HEWAT'S LATEST CD
One of the world's finest harpers, Corrina Hewat, has kindly donated an autographed copy of her latest CD, Harp I Do. Scotland on Sunday wrote: "A lovely album of solo, all-instrumental traditional music rich in high harmonics." It's fab!
Current highest bid: £15.00
You can either e-mail us your bid - specifying which item you're bidding for - to katie.peoples@shaw-online.com. Or just phone Katie (on 0131 557 5663) with your bid.
Thank you.
PS We're still taking any donations for our Yellow Wellie Relay, too. Cheques (made payable to Yellow Welle Challenge) gratefully received at the Shaw address opposite.
AUCTION CLOSES FRIDAY 19 DECEMBER AT 5.00pm.
We've got some great stuff up for auction to help our fundraising for the RNLI. Please send us a bid and solve your Christmas present dilemmas!
SCOTLAND RUGBY SHIRT
First, courtesy of the lovely people at the Scottish Rugby Union, a large Scotland shirt, autographed by the senior squad. Absolute quality.
Current highest bid: £65.00
SUE LAWRENCE BOOKS
The well-known author and cook Sue Lawrence has kindly donated three of her excellent books - Feasting on Herbs, Sue Lawrence on Salads, and Sue Lawrence’s Book of Baking - all signed by the author.
Current highest bid (for all three): £30.00
CORRINA HEWAT'S LATEST CD
One of the world's finest harpers, Corrina Hewat, has kindly donated an autographed copy of her latest CD, Harp I Do. Scotland on Sunday wrote: "A lovely album of solo, all-instrumental traditional music rich in high harmonics." It's fab!
Current highest bid: £15.00
You can either e-mail us your bid - specifying which item you're bidding for - to katie.peoples@shaw-online.com. Or just phone Katie (on 0131 557 5663) with your bid.
Thank you.
PS We're still taking any donations for our Yellow Wellie Relay, too. Cheques (made payable to Yellow Welle Challenge) gratefully received at the Shaw address opposite.
Sunday 26 October – North Queensferry to Edinburgh
Total adrenaline rush, then bagpipe music
Whhheeeeeeeeeeee!!!! This is the absolute berries. Totally bodaciously welly heaven. Forget everything that’s gone before. Today I’m flying. I’m crossing the Forth on an RNLI boat at about a million miles an hour. Crash into the waves we go. Up into the air we soar. Oh, man, this is too much!
It’s all over in a few minutes. I’m out of breath but that experience has without question made this celebrity wellie very happy.
Yep, the Lifeboat guys from Queensferry, out on a training exercise, kindly gave me a ride, wheeching me over from North Queensferry to South Queensferry on their RIB – that’s a Rigid Inflatable Boat, and you’ve got to admire the poor guy who has to blow it up. This ride has been sooooo cool. Okay, so I had to have the signing thing done (the very last time!) but that‘s a fair swap.
After all that, it’s back to normality. Gordon, Isabel and Louise whisk me away from my seafaring mates. They’re doing the last walk – a 13-mile stint in to the Shaw office in downtown Edinburgh. Highlights? Well, we walk past this mahoosive stately home called Dalmeny House, grand enough even for me. Then we reach a river where the nice folk at Cramond Boat Club have kindly volunteered to ferry us over. Everyone seems to know about me, which is fitting, and more photos are taken.
Then it’s along the esplanade until we come to Newhaven harbour, along a nice path via Goldenacre, and suddenly we’re in a big city. It’s culture shock time after a month of enjoying Scotland’s wonderful countryside (and Dalgety Bay). What’s even more shocking is that this is a big city with bagpipers. We reach the Shaw office to be greeted by three of these weirdos kitted out in Yellow Wellie T-shirts and – the bare-faced cheek of it – yellow wellies!
Bagpipe music. You gotta love it, eh? Anyway, loads of folk have turned out to greet my arrival at journey’s end. Fizzy wine is drunk, speeches are made, certificates are dished out. And what’s this? A gigantic six-foot high yellow wellie sits in the corner showing my amazing journey. I decide that this is not an insult but a compliment and go along with the spirit of the occasion.
So I’ve made it. Some 26 people and a couple of dogs have helped me a bit over the 375 miles, but here I am, still looking fantastic, despite the signatures down my side. Like I said once before, you’ve got to give these people some credit for all their walking, running and cycling. It’s a great cause – remember? It’s for these fab Lifeboat people who have very cool boats and do good stuff. So go on, give the Shaw folk some more money.
I’m going to take a couple of days to reflect on all this and think about my next venture. Thanks for your company. Back to you soon.
Total adrenaline rush, then bagpipe music
Whhheeeeeeeeeeee!!!! This is the absolute berries. Totally bodaciously welly heaven. Forget everything that’s gone before. Today I’m flying. I’m crossing the Forth on an RNLI boat at about a million miles an hour. Crash into the waves we go. Up into the air we soar. Oh, man, this is too much!
It’s all over in a few minutes. I’m out of breath but that experience has without question made this celebrity wellie very happy.
Yep, the Lifeboat guys from Queensferry, out on a training exercise, kindly gave me a ride, wheeching me over from North Queensferry to South Queensferry on their RIB – that’s a Rigid Inflatable Boat, and you’ve got to admire the poor guy who has to blow it up. This ride has been sooooo cool. Okay, so I had to have the signing thing done (the very last time!) but that‘s a fair swap.
After all that, it’s back to normality. Gordon, Isabel and Louise whisk me away from my seafaring mates. They’re doing the last walk – a 13-mile stint in to the Shaw office in downtown Edinburgh. Highlights? Well, we walk past this mahoosive stately home called Dalmeny House, grand enough even for me. Then we reach a river where the nice folk at Cramond Boat Club have kindly volunteered to ferry us over. Everyone seems to know about me, which is fitting, and more photos are taken.
Then it’s along the esplanade until we come to Newhaven harbour, along a nice path via Goldenacre, and suddenly we’re in a big city. It’s culture shock time after a month of enjoying Scotland’s wonderful countryside (and Dalgety Bay). What’s even more shocking is that this is a big city with bagpipers. We reach the Shaw office to be greeted by three of these weirdos kitted out in Yellow Wellie T-shirts and – the bare-faced cheek of it – yellow wellies!
Bagpipe music. You gotta love it, eh? Anyway, loads of folk have turned out to greet my arrival at journey’s end. Fizzy wine is drunk, speeches are made, certificates are dished out. And what’s this? A gigantic six-foot high yellow wellie sits in the corner showing my amazing journey. I decide that this is not an insult but a compliment and go along with the spirit of the occasion.So I’ve made it. Some 26 people and a couple of dogs have helped me a bit over the 375 miles, but here I am, still looking fantastic, despite the signatures down my side. Like I said once before, you’ve got to give these people some credit for all their walking, running and cycling. It’s a great cause – remember? It’s for these fab Lifeboat people who have very cool boats and do good stuff. So go on, give the Shaw folk some more money.
I’m going to take a couple of days to reflect on all this and think about my next venture. Thanks for your company. Back to you soon.
Sunday 19 October - Kinghorn to North Queensferry
Rain, rigs, blisters and bridges – another day in Fife
The weather’s not looking so good today and gales are forecast. Never mind. I’m a wellie. Still, you can see that Gillian and Laura (two of the Shaw team), plus Laura’s mum
and dad (Joan and Michael), are nice people and don’t deserve a soaking.
We are on the last stage of the Fife walk and heading for the big bridges that I’ve seen over the past few walks. I like these bridges. Anyway, I digress. After spotting an inquisitive seal in the water, it’s the turn of the new bearers to have a look round the Kinghorn RNLI station, then it’s off for another day in the saddle. Along the well-worn Fife coastal path we go, my companions managing to get lost in the massive urban sprawl of Burntisland (for goodness sake!). Not only is Burntisland home to the eleventh oldest golf club in the world (I bet you didn’t know that) but there’s a blooming great oil rig parked outside. Are there people in yellow wellies on it? I suspect so. Heading on, we reach a waterfall.
Nice enough, I suppose, and we gather round for a team photo.
On to Aberdour, home of a castle but more importantly a public house where the team has lunch and watches some football on television. As none of the players seems to be wearing yellow boots, I’m profoundly uninterested but it seems to grip the attention of Michael who has to be forcibly removed from the place to resume the walk.
The weather is not cheering anybody up. We pass through Dalgety Bay, which is full of houses but totally bereft of people. Strange! It’s not far from here to Inverkeithing and then there’s North Queensferry, the last stop in Fife. We’re right next to the two bridges now and they’re stunning. I think, though, that my companions’ main sentiment, other than pain from the emerging blisters, is relief that the walk is over. It’s a windy old day here in Fife. Next week, it’s over the water. I predict sunshine on Leith.
Rain, rigs, blisters and bridges – another day in Fife
The weather’s not looking so good today and gales are forecast. Never mind. I’m a wellie. Still, you can see that Gillian and Laura (two of the Shaw team), plus Laura’s mum
and dad (Joan and Michael), are nice people and don’t deserve a soaking. We are on the last stage of the Fife walk and heading for the big bridges that I’ve seen over the past few walks. I like these bridges. Anyway, I digress. After spotting an inquisitive seal in the water, it’s the turn of the new bearers to have a look round the Kinghorn RNLI station, then it’s off for another day in the saddle. Along the well-worn Fife coastal path we go, my companions managing to get lost in the massive urban sprawl of Burntisland (for goodness sake!). Not only is Burntisland home to the eleventh oldest golf club in the world (I bet you didn’t know that) but there’s a blooming great oil rig parked outside. Are there people in yellow wellies on it? I suspect so. Heading on, we reach a waterfall.
Nice enough, I suppose, and we gather round for a team photo.On to Aberdour, home of a castle but more importantly a public house where the team has lunch and watches some football on television. As none of the players seems to be wearing yellow boots, I’m profoundly uninterested but it seems to grip the attention of Michael who has to be forcibly removed from the place to resume the walk.
The weather is not cheering anybody up. We pass through Dalgety Bay, which is full of houses but totally bereft of people. Strange! It’s not far from here to Inverkeithing and then there’s North Queensferry, the last stop in Fife. We’re right next to the two bridges now and they’re stunning. I think, though, that my companions’ main sentiment, other than pain from the emerging blisters, is relief that the walk is over. It’s a windy old day here in Fife. Next week, it’s over the water. I predict sunshine on Leith.
Friday 17 and Saturday 18 October – Lower Largo to Kinghorn
Time to get rugged
What’s this? A Friday afternoon start rather than the usual Saturday kick-off. Must be a reason and here it is. My companions and official Bearers of the Golden Wellie (that’s me) are going to camp overnight. Splendid.
We wellies love these outdoor hearty types and it seems that Thomas and Phil are just that. Good stuff, guys.
Once again, I have a canine companion, this one much smaller than the previous Bailey model. This one’s called Ross and I have seen him sniffing around the Shaw office before. Just hope he’s up for this cos we al fresco big-time walkers don’t hang around, okay?
So Friday, the rugged boys yomp along from Lower Largo, through Leven and Methil, to near Buckhaven then brave the wind and rain to throw up a tent among the stones and tree roots. Nobody wrestled any alligators as far as I know, but that was the mood of the camp.
Come the morning and my first sight is a large vulture circling overhead. I’m worried about Ross but hear from the Bearers that it’s not a vulture, just a buzzard. Panic’s off, wee man!
The boys strike camp, run down a few steer, then it’s off we go. Macduff castle is conquered and the sun starts to shine. Glorious weather now and plenty of Fife wildlife to see, as well as caves and graveyards. This is a big walk but my boys are doing fine. At Dysart, the dog poses for a few photos, and Kirkcaldy is taken in a few strides. Well, more than a few, this place isn’t known as the Lang Toun for nothing.
We press on. By the time we reach Kinghorn, it’s back to golden beaches and blue skies. Lovely. And at the RNLI station (yes, there was the inevitable
signing), we get a tour of the place and a seat on the boat. Thomas is happy. Ross is happy. And so am I. Just one more of these signings to go apparently.
Time to get rugged
What’s this? A Friday afternoon start rather than the usual Saturday kick-off. Must be a reason and here it is. My companions and official Bearers of the Golden Wellie (that’s me) are going to camp overnight. Splendid.
We wellies love these outdoor hearty types and it seems that Thomas and Phil are just that. Good stuff, guys.Once again, I have a canine companion, this one much smaller than the previous Bailey model. This one’s called Ross and I have seen him sniffing around the Shaw office before. Just hope he’s up for this cos we al fresco big-time walkers don’t hang around, okay?
So Friday, the rugged boys yomp along from Lower Largo, through Leven and Methil, to near Buckhaven then brave the wind and rain to throw up a tent among the stones and tree roots. Nobody wrestled any alligators as far as I know, but that was the mood of the camp.
Come the morning and my first sight is a large vulture circling overhead. I’m worried about Ross but hear from the Bearers that it’s not a vulture, just a buzzard. Panic’s off, wee man!
The boys strike camp, run down a few steer, then it’s off we go. Macduff castle is conquered and the sun starts to shine. Glorious weather now and plenty of Fife wildlife to see, as well as caves and graveyards. This is a big walk but my boys are doing fine. At Dysart, the dog poses for a few photos, and Kirkcaldy is taken in a few strides. Well, more than a few, this place isn’t known as the Lang Toun for nothing.
We press on. By the time we reach Kinghorn, it’s back to golden beaches and blue skies. Lovely. And at the RNLI station (yes, there was the inevitable
signing), we get a tour of the place and a seat on the boat. Thomas is happy. Ross is happy. And so am I. Just one more of these signings to go apparently.
Wednesday 15 October – a message from Fife
The latest plan – canoeing across the Firth of Forth! Help ma boab!
A whisper has gone round the clubs. These Shaw people are mad. Apparently a few of them, on the last day when I’m making my stately way from Queensferry to Edinburgh, are going to canoe across the Firth of Forth with that body double wellie I told you about the other day. Now, I’ve seen the Firth of Forth. I’m gazing over its foamy brine right now, in fact. The thought of paddling across it – it’s going to take about five hours apparently – brings me out in yellow hives. Clearly these people are fanatical.
The story is this. They’re setting out from Kinghorn and canoeing over to Granton. An equally mad South African guy called Gary Shaw of Shaw Water Engineering (no relation to Shaw Marketing and Design) is teaching them the rudiments of paddles and Canadian open canoes and then he and the Shaw people are all going to launch themselves out on to the Forth on that 26 October day. Madness, sheer madness. I’ll stick to my own itinerary, thank you.
But listen. You’ve got to admire these idiots. They are dead set on raising money for the Lifeboat people that I’ve come to know, so I think you should do the decent thing and write them very large cheques (make them out to Yellow Wellie Challenge). Send them to Alastair Bruce, who is one of the paddling crew, at the address that’s opposite this little message somewhere.
This will maybe stop them embarking on other adventures which may include me, so I’d be most grateful for your cooperation here. Thank you.
The latest plan – canoeing across the Firth of Forth! Help ma boab!
A whisper has gone round the clubs. These Shaw people are mad. Apparently a few of them, on the last day when I’m making my stately way from Queensferry to Edinburgh, are going to canoe across the Firth of Forth with that body double wellie I told you about the other day. Now, I’ve seen the Firth of Forth. I’m gazing over its foamy brine right now, in fact. The thought of paddling across it – it’s going to take about five hours apparently – brings me out in yellow hives. Clearly these people are fanatical.
The story is this. They’re setting out from Kinghorn and canoeing over to Granton. An equally mad South African guy called Gary Shaw of Shaw Water Engineering (no relation to Shaw Marketing and Design) is teaching them the rudiments of paddles and Canadian open canoes and then he and the Shaw people are all going to launch themselves out on to the Forth on that 26 October day. Madness, sheer madness. I’ll stick to my own itinerary, thank you.
But listen. You’ve got to admire these idiots. They are dead set on raising money for the Lifeboat people that I’ve come to know, so I think you should do the decent thing and write them very large cheques (make them out to Yellow Wellie Challenge). Send them to Alastair Bruce, who is one of the paddling crew, at the address that’s opposite this little message somewhere.
This will maybe stop them embarking on other adventures which may include me, so I’d be most grateful for your cooperation here. Thank you.
Sunday 12 October – Elie to Lower Largo
A very pleasant walk in Fife, despite the dog
A more leisurely day is in prospect today. More Bruce people – Alastair, Ruairidh (age 10), Riona (age 8, who did the walk to Montrose), and Anne, who has two sticks, and that dog Bailey again. We’re walking about seven miles along the coast and though the sun ain’t shining, it’s pleasant enough.
Actually it’s very pleasant. The walk is nice and varied, with beaches and paths and old railway tracks, one or two decent cliffs, a golf course with lots of rules plastered all over the place about how you have to behave (honestly!), and a ruined old chapel just past Earlsferry.
Of all my various journeys so far, this is probably the easiest and is certainly the slowest. These children, although they never stop talking to each other, are constantly finding things to do on the beaches, while the daft dog spends the first couple of hours chasing the waves and tiring himself out. Clever things, dogs.
So with one thing and another, including a picnic, we take almost four hours to cover the distance. But no-one is complaining, least of all me after all my exertions recently, and thankfully there’s no need for any body double today. I have the road to myself.
Clearly we are getting near the end of this big trip and the skyline of Edinburgh, journey’s end, is visible over the sea or river or whatever it is. Shame, I’m enjoying all this.
A very pleasant walk in Fife, despite the dog
A more leisurely day is in prospect today. More Bruce people – Alastair, Ruairidh (age 10), Riona (age 8, who did the walk to Montrose), and Anne, who has two sticks, and that dog Bailey again. We’re walking about seven miles along the coast and though the sun ain’t shining, it’s pleasant enough.
Actually it’s very pleasant. The walk is nice and varied, with beaches and paths and old railway tracks, one or two decent cliffs, a golf course with lots of rules plastered all over the place about how you have to behave (honestly!), and a ruined old chapel just past Earlsferry.
Of all my various journeys so far, this is probably the easiest and is certainly the slowest. These children, although they never stop talking to each other, are constantly finding things to do on the beaches, while the daft dog spends the first couple of hours chasing the waves and tiring himself out. Clever things, dogs.
So with one thing and another, including a picnic, we take almost four hours to cover the distance. But no-one is complaining, least of all me after all my exertions recently, and thankfully there’s no need for any body double today. I have the road to myself.
Clearly we are getting near the end of this big trip and the skyline of Edinburgh, journey’s end, is visible over the sea or river or whatever it is. Shame, I’m enjoying all this.
Saturday 11 October - Broughty Ferry to Anstruther to Elie
Another long day in the saddle
Today the sun is out, the wind is fair, and I’m off on a bike ride with a different Storie, one Paul of that clan. For some reason, Paul has brought along a second wellie, which he has fastened to his bike. This happens to celebrities, I discover. It’s called a body double and it seems that I now have one.
Over the Tay Bridge we go, casting a quick look back to Dundee and some of the Tartan Army as they head off for Glasgow. First decision to make as we enter Fife - the main road to Leuchars or the scenic forest path around the coast? We ask a local and take the scenic road, following the coast path and through lovely forests, passing a few red squirrels on the way, and eventually come out of the forest just two miles from Leuchars.
Through Leuchars, past the Air Base, and on to St Andrews, my man Paul dodging golf balls and still feeling good, he says. But then the hills start, and with it the moaning. Now I’m no geographer but according to Paul it is uphill all the way from St Andrews to Anstruther, other than a wee bit at the end. Interesting given that both towns are at sea level.
In Anstruther there are pirates,
but we’re too quick for their kidnapping exploits and we make it to the RNLI station where the full crew have turned out to greet us. Thanks, guys. Coxswain Stephen Small does the signing thing and gives us a tour of the newly improved Station. Paul gets kitted out in the whole RNLI gear. Check out the photo. 
Looking good, Paul!
The crew heads out to sea and we make tracks for Elie, five miles down the road. It’s been a long day. By the time we reach Elie, Paul has covered near enough 40 miles so we’re all a bit saddle sore. Tomorrow is going to be a walk. That’s good.
Another long day in the saddle
Today the sun is out, the wind is fair, and I’m off on a bike ride with a different Storie, one Paul of that clan. For some reason, Paul has brought along a second wellie, which he has fastened to his bike. This happens to celebrities, I discover. It’s called a body double and it seems that I now have one.
Over the Tay Bridge we go, casting a quick look back to Dundee and some of the Tartan Army as they head off for Glasgow. First decision to make as we enter Fife - the main road to Leuchars or the scenic forest path around the coast? We ask a local and take the scenic road, following the coast path and through lovely forests, passing a few red squirrels on the way, and eventually come out of the forest just two miles from Leuchars.
Through Leuchars, past the Air Base, and on to St Andrews, my man Paul dodging golf balls and still feeling good, he says. But then the hills start, and with it the moaning. Now I’m no geographer but according to Paul it is uphill all the way from St Andrews to Anstruther, other than a wee bit at the end. Interesting given that both towns are at sea level.
In Anstruther there are pirates,
but we’re too quick for their kidnapping exploits and we make it to the RNLI station where the full crew have turned out to greet us. Thanks, guys. Coxswain Stephen Small does the signing thing and gives us a tour of the newly improved Station. Paul gets kitted out in the whole RNLI gear. Check out the photo. 
Looking good, Paul!The crew heads out to sea and we make tracks for Elie, five miles down the road. It’s been a long day. By the time we reach Elie, Paul has covered near enough 40 miles so we’re all a bit saddle sore. Tomorrow is going to be a walk. That’s good.
Sunday 5 October – Arbroath to Broughty Ferry
Murrays in a hurray
Another busy day, and another family day. Yesterday the three Stories, sisters all, did the hard work. Today it was the turn of the Murray brothers – Gordon (who was one of the cyclists back on the Aberdeen to Stonehaven jaunt), Norman and Paul.
I was grateful yesterday to the Stories for broadening my linguistic knowledge when they heard that they were going to be photographed by the Dundee Courier after a few hours in the Angus wind and rain. Today, more education from the Murray boys before they’d even started, when they were held up on their way to Arbroath in a traffic jam. Interesting stuff, lads. Straight from the Easter Road terraces.
However, today was a new experience in another way. These guys RAN the whole way. That’s impressive. Okay they did a kind of relay thing but credit where it’s due.
It also turned out that two of these running Murrays had actually been rescued in their younger days by our Lifeboat friends. I liked that. Here they were doing their bit years after the boys with the wellies helped them out when it was needed (off Torness apparently). Excellent.
Another high point of the day was my good friend Gordon running past thousands of people who were watching a golf tournament in Carnoustie (the source of the traffic jam apparently). Don’t suppose they were expecting to see a breathless Murray haring past with a yellow wellie but I’m sure it enriched their day.
In to Broughty Ferry with Gordon (his brothers, having completed their bit of the relay, had unsportingly retired to the pub to watch football –
shocking). A bit of a stushie followed in the RNLI station as to who was having the privilege of signing their name on me. This is understandable given my renowned celebrity status, but it passed off peacefully enough and another happy day drew to a close.
Murrays in a hurray
Another busy day, and another family day. Yesterday the three Stories, sisters all, did the hard work. Today it was the turn of the Murray brothers – Gordon (who was one of the cyclists back on the Aberdeen to Stonehaven jaunt), Norman and Paul.
I was grateful yesterday to the Stories for broadening my linguistic knowledge when they heard that they were going to be photographed by the Dundee Courier after a few hours in the Angus wind and rain. Today, more education from the Murray boys before they’d even started, when they were held up on their way to Arbroath in a traffic jam. Interesting stuff, lads. Straight from the Easter Road terraces.
However, today was a new experience in another way. These guys RAN the whole way. That’s impressive. Okay they did a kind of relay thing but credit where it’s due.
It also turned out that two of these running Murrays had actually been rescued in their younger days by our Lifeboat friends. I liked that. Here they were doing their bit years after the boys with the wellies helped them out when it was needed (off Torness apparently). Excellent.
Another high point of the day was my good friend Gordon running past thousands of people who were watching a golf tournament in Carnoustie (the source of the traffic jam apparently). Don’t suppose they were expecting to see a breathless Murray haring past with a yellow wellie but I’m sure it enriched their day.
In to Broughty Ferry with Gordon (his brothers, having completed their bit of the relay, had unsportingly retired to the pub to watch football –
shocking). A bit of a stushie followed in the RNLI station as to who was having the privilege of signing their name on me. This is understandable given my renowned celebrity status, but it passed off peacefully enough and another happy day drew to a close.
Saturday 4 October – Montrose to Arbroath
Sisters are doing it
Life is good. After a few days of sitting around, I’m up and about again with a new family. Last Sunday it was the Bruces, today it’s the Stories – three sisters: Louise, Joanne and Yvonne, originally from Penicuik. Well, they obviously throw good stock there, cos these girls could certainly walk the walk. (As a matter of interest, they could also talk the talk!)
So, off we set from Montrose, me stuck in that blooming yellow bag I told you about before. However, I am treated with some consideration and am occasionally given my freedom to take in the passing scenery.
Last week, a dog accompanied me on my travels. Today, I pass a statue of one of these creatures. They’re not my favourite beasts, I have to say, prone to nicking the
odd bit of quality rubber off one’s nether regions. But this statue, which I certainly prefer to the Hercules Linton belledame of Inverbervie fame, was of an old ‘sea dog’, one Bamse, owned by a Norwegian captain stationed in Montrose during World War 2. Bamse, bless him, saved a local man in a knife attack and also saved a member of crew who fell overboard. Very appropriate, then, given our mission in this Relay thing.
Great cliffs again today. The sheer drops didn’t bother me. I bounce. I did worry
slightly about my companions, though. I fear they don’t (bounce, that is), but there were no mishaps and we all enjoyed some great views. On to Auchmithie, the home of the Arbroath smokie. Sadly, there’s not a whiff or a glimpse of a smokie today.
Even better, it begins to pour with rain. I love it. This is what wellies were made for. I feel it in my sole. The girls are less impressed – and even more so when they hear that a photographer from a newspaper is going to take their pictures when they get to the lifeboat place. I learn some colourful new language.
What a great welcome I get in Arbroath. Back in the limelight, I am, and even the soaking wet companions cheer up a bit. The lifeboat crew’s longest serving member, Ron Churchill (sr), takes me and the girls on to the boat itself, which is on the last slipway in Scotland,
and the usual signing takes place. I’m getting used to it, I suppose. I like these lifeboat people and after 16 miles, I’m even sorry to say goodbye to the Stories. Thanks for the lift, girls. Away and get a hot shower.
Sisters are doing it
Life is good. After a few days of sitting around, I’m up and about again with a new family. Last Sunday it was the Bruces, today it’s the Stories – three sisters: Louise, Joanne and Yvonne, originally from Penicuik. Well, they obviously throw good stock there, cos these girls could certainly walk the walk. (As a matter of interest, they could also talk the talk!)
So, off we set from Montrose, me stuck in that blooming yellow bag I told you about before. However, I am treated with some consideration and am occasionally given my freedom to take in the passing scenery.
Last week, a dog accompanied me on my travels. Today, I pass a statue of one of these creatures. They’re not my favourite beasts, I have to say, prone to nicking the
odd bit of quality rubber off one’s nether regions. But this statue, which I certainly prefer to the Hercules Linton belledame of Inverbervie fame, was of an old ‘sea dog’, one Bamse, owned by a Norwegian captain stationed in Montrose during World War 2. Bamse, bless him, saved a local man in a knife attack and also saved a member of crew who fell overboard. Very appropriate, then, given our mission in this Relay thing.Great cliffs again today. The sheer drops didn’t bother me. I bounce. I did worry
slightly about my companions, though. I fear they don’t (bounce, that is), but there were no mishaps and we all enjoyed some great views. On to Auchmithie, the home of the Arbroath smokie. Sadly, there’s not a whiff or a glimpse of a smokie today.Even better, it begins to pour with rain. I love it. This is what wellies were made for. I feel it in my sole. The girls are less impressed – and even more so when they hear that a photographer from a newspaper is going to take their pictures when they get to the lifeboat place. I learn some colourful new language.
What a great welcome I get in Arbroath. Back in the limelight, I am, and even the soaking wet companions cheer up a bit. The lifeboat crew’s longest serving member, Ron Churchill (sr), takes me and the girls on to the boat itself, which is on the last slipway in Scotland,
and the usual signing takes place. I’m getting used to it, I suppose. I like these lifeboat people and after 16 miles, I’m even sorry to say goodbye to the Stories. Thanks for the lift, girls. Away and get a hot shower.
Monday 29 September - A well-deserved rest day
Four days of frantic activity, in which I've travelled more than 250 miles by boat, bike and on foot, are being followed by some well-deserved rest. I'm catching my breath and reflecting on the adventures so far.
My travelling companions at Shaw Marketing and Design have told me that the money they're raising for these Lifeboat people is coming in okay but they need more. So here's a special request from the only celebrity wellie in Scotland to support these wonderful wellie-bearers. Just send cheques, made out to to Yellow Wellie Challenge, to Shaw Marketing and Design, Panmure Court, 32 Calton Road, Edinburgh EH8 8DP. You'll get a certificate, guys, so come on! And if you fancy joining me on a walk, get in touch with them (0131 557 5663 or e-mail alastair.bruce@shaw-online.com). I might even let you touch me.
There's more about the Yellow Wellie Challenge on the RNLI website -
http://www.rnli.org.uk/yellow-wellie - just to prove it's legit.
Another wee thing. If you want to see the pictures on this blog a bit better (I know they're a bit small), you can just click on them. This is particularly beneficial if you want to check out the glories of the Hercules Linton scary thing or just catch the best profiles of moi.
Four days of frantic activity, in which I've travelled more than 250 miles by boat, bike and on foot, are being followed by some well-deserved rest. I'm catching my breath and reflecting on the adventures so far.My travelling companions at Shaw Marketing and Design have told me that the money they're raising for these Lifeboat people is coming in okay but they need more. So here's a special request from the only celebrity wellie in Scotland to support these wonderful wellie-bearers. Just send cheques, made out to to Yellow Wellie Challenge, to Shaw Marketing and Design, Panmure Court, 32 Calton Road, Edinburgh EH8 8DP. You'll get a certificate, guys, so come on! And if you fancy joining me on a walk, get in touch with them (0131 557 5663 or e-mail alastair.bruce@shaw-online.com). I might even let you touch me.
There's more about the Yellow Wellie Challenge on the RNLI website -
http://www.rnli.org.uk/yellow-wellie - just to prove it's legit.
Another wee thing. If you want to see the pictures on this blog a bit better (I know they're a bit small), you can just click on them. This is particularly beneficial if you want to check out the glories of the Hercules Linton scary thing or just catch the best profiles of moi.
Sunday 28 September – Inverbervie to Montrose
I work successfully with animals and children
Never work with animals and children. So some of my less famous wellie companions like to mutter. Today, though, I worked with both and the whole thing was a breeze.
Six hours in the saddle with eight-year-old Riona, her dog Bailey, yesterday’s companion Ruth (she must be keen), an old guy called Alastair, and a woman with a stick called Alison (to clarify, the woman was called Alison, I’ve no idea what the stick was called). They all seemed to be related (maybe not the dog, though), so it was a bit of a family outing.
No doubt their Christmas card to each other this year will be them pictured with me.
Yes, six hours and a touch more than 16 miles, beginning in Bervie – without visiting the scary memorial – then down to Montrose, more of which later. The sun beat down on us and everyone kept saying things like, well, this makes up for the lousy summer etc. As quite a fan of wet weather and wet conditions generally, I kept shtoom.
Stunning stuff, this walk, folks. Big beaches, dramatic cliffs, a wee castle, harbours and boats, a lifeboat station that closed in 1928, hippies, horses, a stroll over an old railway viaduct, and in the middle of nowhere, a massive junk yard of bikes, kitchen goods, lawn mowers, wheels, furniture, pallets, and anything else that you can think of. Very entertaining.
Montrose is home to a man called John West who, according to my companions, makes the best cup of tea in the world. I don’t know. What I do know is that he did that signing his name on me thing, which is becoming very annoying.
I work successfully with animals and children
Never work with animals and children. So some of my less famous wellie companions like to mutter. Today, though, I worked with both and the whole thing was a breeze.
Six hours in the saddle with eight-year-old Riona, her dog Bailey, yesterday’s companion Ruth (she must be keen), an old guy called Alastair, and a woman with a stick called Alison (to clarify, the woman was called Alison, I’ve no idea what the stick was called). They all seemed to be related (maybe not the dog, though), so it was a bit of a family outing.
No doubt their Christmas card to each other this year will be them pictured with me.Yes, six hours and a touch more than 16 miles, beginning in Bervie – without visiting the scary memorial – then down to Montrose, more of which later. The sun beat down on us and everyone kept saying things like, well, this makes up for the lousy summer etc. As quite a fan of wet weather and wet conditions generally, I kept shtoom.
Stunning stuff, this walk, folks. Big beaches, dramatic cliffs, a wee castle, harbours and boats, a lifeboat station that closed in 1928, hippies, horses, a stroll over an old railway viaduct, and in the middle of nowhere, a massive junk yard of bikes, kitchen goods, lawn mowers, wheels, furniture, pallets, and anything else that you can think of. Very entertaining.
Montrose is home to a man called John West who, according to my companions, makes the best cup of tea in the world. I don’t know. What I do know is that he did that signing his name on me thing, which is becoming very annoying.
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