Kilted is a rare sight but it does occur sometimes and this may be its one and only viewing on this site. But the kilted picture is displayed as an acknowledgement of Scotland and in this occassion Karine Polwart - the Scottish singer/songwriter - whose work I enjoy from time to time. She reminds me of a time past, when I used to travel with friends around Scotland, seeking out obscure wee folk venues and playing where we could. Eyemouth may not sound like the hub of Scottish music scene but there was a time when the Whale Inn there opened its doors to a lot of fun. It was a place I and others could play our songs and people would listen. I remember a story being told to me then, by a trawlerman. He said every Monday morning, when he left the harbour to sail out to work, he was seasick. What a way to start your working week. But he also said when he came back to shore, the first thing he would do was stroll into the Whale Inn for a pint of Belhaven ale to wash away the taste that had accumulated throughout the previous days - diesel fumes and salt and stale fish. And yet he would still come and hear me sing about places I would never go to (but hoped to) - a bit like this song clip (below) it would be a song full of hope - and I wonder what he is doing now, that trawlerman from Eyemouth, he would have been about nineteen then same as me, and about fifty-five now. I wonder if he is still trawling?
Kilted is a rare sight but it does occur sometimes and this may be its one and only viewing on this site. But the kilted picture is displayed as an acknowledgement of Scotland and in this occassion Karine Polwart - the Scottish singer/songwriter - whose work I enjoy from time to time. She reminds me of a time past, when I used to travel with friends around Scotland, seeking out obscure wee folk venues and playing where we could. Eyemouth may not sound like the hub of Scottish music scene but there was a time when the Whale Inn there opened its doors to a lot of fun. It was a place I and others could play our songs and people would listen. I remember a story being told to me then, by a trawlerman. He said every Monday morning, when he left the harbour to sail out to work, he was seasick. What a way to start your working week. But he also said when he came back to shore, the first thing he would do was stroll into the Whale Inn for a pint of Belhaven ale to wash away the taste that had accumulated throughout the previous days - diesel fumes and salt and stale fish. And yet he would still come and hear me sing about places I would never go to (but hoped to) - a bit like this song clip (below) it would be a song full of hope - and I wonder what he is doing now, that trawlerman from Eyemouth, he would have been about nineteen then same as me, and about fifty-five now. I wonder if he is still trawling?
