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 Hoots & Havers - May 07

Until it began to rain a week or two back, the small and fluffy dog and I spent an hour or two most day tramping the upper edges of the strath above Aberfeldy. With the weather the way it was, the conditions were perfect for pottering. No flies, no bracken and not too much heat.

Much of the time the clarity of light was breathtaking and I defy anyone to argue against Scotland being amongst the most beautiful places in the world – and our strath being amongst the most glorious parts of it. And, bar sheep, deer, squirrels, hares, ravens, black grouse, etc., you always seem to have it to yourself.

The dog isn’t as fluffy as it used to be. To assist its passage across the landscape, I took a pair of scissors to it. Now it can go through a clump of heather or pass by thistle without becoming inextricably entangled and having to fight for its life with any passing hedgehog or weasel. The creature is spoilt rotten. It would be incorrect to say it believes that I am its servant, but it does consider me its equal and thinks that I don’t notice that its courage is at its greatest only when it can leap into my arms if danger threatens.

I remember talking to a gamekeeper once who told me that he would always straddle and pin down a young dog until it stopped struggling and realised that it was entirely within his power. Then, said the keeper, the dog will know its place. I can see that such treatment might be a good idea if one’s dog was a rottweiler or something similar but I would hate to crush the spirit of a tiny dog. The snivelling inferiority of so many collies and other working animals may be necessary but it is not attractive, and a tiny sniveller would be only good for a barbecue.

* * * * *

The election was about as pleasurable an experience as such things can ever be - from an entrancing display of cleavage from the official who handed me the ballot paper to the result.

The complexity of the paper meant that the nation, on a one-off, found itself with an even more intelligent electorate than usual. Already nearly half of those qualified to vote have no say in our elections because they are too stupid to realise the importance of doing so, and, according to some estimates, 10% of the remainder found the process too intellectually challenging and disqualified themselves through spoilt ballots. Because of this, the result was almost perfect. The egregious central belt centralists lost power and nobody really gained it.

With the departure of Donald Dewar, the chamber became little better the dullest municipal dronery. Now things may change for the better. The Nats won’t achieve independence because only a small minority of Scots want it, but they may be able to make Scotland less dependent on public money for its survival and less controlled by an over mighty bureaucracy. But if the Nats prove to be as tiny-minded as their predecessors, they’ll be out again in four years time.

The bizarre failure of the Tories to exist in any meaningful way in Scotland was confirmed by the election, and confirmed by the party itself. David Cameron after receiving a modicum of support in northern English council elections crowed that ‘it proves we are a national party.’ This may true if his nationalism stops at the Tweed, but certainly not if beyond. It also seems to show that the Tories, who would like to be, but won’t be the next government in Westminster, have discounted Scotland as much as the SNP discounts England.

* * * * *

They say the bike extravaganza on 24 June round Highland Perthshire is a good thing because it will bring money into the area in future.

The last such event that I took an interest in was a mass orienteering exercise a decade ago. I couldn’t avoid the damn thing as most of it took place just over our garden wall, but we put up with the inconvenience because of the common weal. The long-term benefits to the area of that exercise could probably be written on the head of a pin, but they weren’t because nobody bothered to try to measure them. I suspect the same will be true of the forthcoming bike-in.

What is really, really annoying about it is that we who live here and will have our lives disrupted by it were not consulted beforehand. As far as I can make out from a bit of webwork, the organiser, Etape Caledonia, is a profit-making organisation - and good luck to it. They snowed some employee of the Council to give them money and shut our roads. It astonishes me that the Council apparently has the power to do this without consultation. And for such a lousy reason. It won’t make money. If this sort of thing did, then entrepreneurs would be queuing up to lay them on.

There are 12,500 residents here. On a summer Saturday, there may be 20,000 more in the area. All will have to make allowances for the bikers. Why on earth should they have to do so? And what compensation will be paid to individuals and commercial organisations for hassle of re-organising their lives on that day. Or the lost revenue from motor-born visitors who are turned away from their desired destinations? If there is none, then I see no reason why we should take any notice of the road closures, particularly since I cannot see how they can be legally enforced.

* * * * *

Passing by the Hermitage the other day, I thought I’d pop in to view the reported horrors of the newly uptarted Ossian’s Hall. The unctuous John Murray, who married the Duke of Atholl’s daughter, built it in 1757 as a birthday surprise for his father-in-law.

Wordsworth took a look and ‘Recoiled into the Wilderness’, for it seems to have been excruciatingly kitsch. It contained a chandelier and its walls were lined with mirrors reflecting the falls of turbulent river.  In 1869, during the campaign to abolish the toll levied by the duke on the bridge at Dunkeld, some person of taste blew up the building. It was subsequently restored to be more in keeping with its surroundings.

Some people wanted the mirrors back to make it as gross as it was originally, but fortunately good sense prevailed. To me the makeover is excellent – good fun and appropriately silly - as is the building and as was Ossian. The National Trust is to be congratulated.