After blundering about in a forest near Garlieston in the pitch dark in the early hours of last Sunday morning I feel even more equipped to enter the mythic landscape!
How could I forget how useful taxi drivers are, and what a unique function they fulfil in the creation and transfer of tales? Based on my experiences over the last few days in Wigtown, taxi drivers are going to be essential sources of information. I met two, one of whom used to be a tree planter in Palnure who told me of the time the American army declared martial law on Cairnsmore of Fleet. The other told me some old weather lore from the same spot:
'When Cairnsmuir puts on his hat, Palmuir and Skyreburn laugh at that'.
You see? People continue to carry the lore, and add to it.
Phone call last night- "What about the two German submariners from Annan?'
Going to pursue that now....
Word of the day: 'Skraiking', discordantly squealing or squawking as in 'You'll no catch me skraikin at the karaoke'(overheard at Newton Stewart on Saturday night).
My mission statement's in the previous post. Contact me here at this blog or e-mail me at firstname.lastname@example.org