TALKING WITH MY FATHER

For most of his life, my Father has farmed the same area of loam rich land, in the undulating Howe of Strathmore, deep in rural Perthshire.

Agriculture has been core to our family for countless generations just as medicine, academia, city finance or public service has for others.

As a son of the soil his life has been shaped by the vagaries of the weather and politics of the day.

He has watched his children grow up, celebrated births and weddings, mourned the passing of close friends and the tragic death of his first Grandson

And like many of his generation, he has done so with a stoic good grace, and fortitude of spirit, that I and others of my time can only aspire to.

My overriding memory of my Father will always be of an unrelenting and hard working man whose kinship with the land, knowledge of livestock and the network of farmers across Scotland, is legend

That was, and still is, the public face of my Father.

Privately he is someone who would pull his sleepy children out into the steel cold of a winters? evening to awe in wonder at the splendour of the aurora borealis or suddenly pounce lion like into a summer meadow as he unfolded a delicate skylarks? nest!

That I should even consider to write these words will be a source of deep embarrassment to him!

However, today is his 80th birthday!

So, to my Father, I now accord my thanks and gratitude for creating such a rich and ready fabric, into which I have woven my own coloured threads of life.

Happy Birthday Father!

Talking with my Father

I re-shot the image you see here - taken from the original 50 year old print - of my Great Granny, my Grandfather, my Father, my sister and I