Aerosmith and Camper Vans

Last weekend I journeyed down to Download, near Derby, to the biggest rockfest of the year. My main remit was to keep my boys happy, but I love this kind of music too. I probably sound old fashioned but I just think, oh, no... whenever the 'stars' feel they have to swear and stuff. ACDC and Myles Kennedy didn't seem to find it necessary. You basically camp up in a field full of litter, next to some over-flowing toilets and walk 2 miles to get to the gig. Once there, you're stuck in a massive pen with 100,000 other rock fans. There's food all over the place, 4 stages that merge into one cacophony of sound if you stand at the wrong point, and no chance of finding anyone you know. This is fine, even strangely enjoyable when the sun shines, but when the heavens open, it's no joke. It remained beautiful until the last few songs in Slash's set. After that it poured. We retreated to our trusty camper van but decided to ignore our wet clothes and venture out again to see the living legends that are Aerosmith. Steve Tyler was amazing! What a voice and what a showman. Spinning like a dervish in his gold spandex, he sang his lungs out. We all went home tired, dirty, smelly but happy. (Finds of the Festival were singer with Slash - Myles Kennedy, and new band - Them Crooked Vultures. Check em out.

The Big Hoose!

After a refreshing swim, I settle down to some lunch and then walk the gardens of the place I once worked and played. Cameron House, formerly the home of Sir Patrick Telford Smollett, it is now a full-blown De Vere Hotel. It was, however, a stately home when I first ran along the grassy lawn by the family jetty. I was, well, 6 when I first stepped off the launch and joined in the Sunday school games. Mmm... 1967. It was a sunny day, like today, and the gardens were made all the more mysterious by the wailing of peacocks and the bleating of exotic geese. I got to know the Smollett's through the church, St Mungo's, and always found the local gentry personable and kind. Patrick would hail me in the supermarket, even though he did call me by my last name, whereas Mrs Smollett was more of a mystery. She was, in my opinion, like Grace Kelly in looks and seemed more distant, in a movie-star kind of way. I still see her from time to time, and she still looks beautiful. After a childhood of once a year visits, I eventually sang at their daughter's wedding. I think the song was 'By Blue Galilee', and I think the daughter's name was Gabrielle. After a few more years I became an employee of the Smollett's, working as a game-warden, shop-keeper, fairground attendant and ticket collector in the Loch Lomond Bear Park. I wandered, blinded by hay fever, through an assortment of fully-grown Himalayan, European Brown and Canadian Bears, protected only by luck and the odd clump of dirt. They were great days and I still keep in touch with the various survivors. Patrick would, from time to time, yell at me from a high turret as I lay sunbathing in the bay, bobbing in the gentle roll of Loch Lomond. "Murdoch! I don't pay you to float!" Time moved on and, after the sale of the estate, the Smolletts moved up the hill to a smaller pad. I visited the new house once, where, after several huge whiskies, I was introduced to the black piano where Irvin Berlin wrote White Christmas and where David Niven, perched on his boney elbows, recounted many an anecdote. I now swim and exercise in the building that has managed to form such a constant part of my life. And, I might add, have the odd wonderful meal. Cameron House - I salute you!

Port Ness

After a wild drive to Port Ness, on the most northwesterly tip of Lewis, I arrive at the school and settle down in their new Library. The school kids are at the door to greet me and they lead me inside to give my workshop. They are fantastic and soon tell me about the real Gugas Hunters. One girl’s dad is an actual Guga Hunter and disappears for 2 weeks every year to harvest the gannets. He is only allowed back in the house after 3 showers. I ask them what the birds taste like and how they cook them. They are very salty and fishy in taste but many of the kids enthuse about them and the teacher tells how they are cooked. They are scrubbed with washing-up liquid and then boiled for an hour before being served with boiled potatoes and veg. The gannet skin has the complexion of an old tramp and the fat layer is extremely thick. Some of the class say how you have to eat the fat and the dark flesh together. The teacher isn’t too keen on the fatty parts. I eventually take the road to Callanish. It’s been 20 years since I’ve visited the stones that appear on the cover of The Magic Scales. There is a visitor centre there now, so I track down the manager and show him the cover of the first book. He loves it and sees that it will sell in the shop, so takes 6. I take some pictures of the magnificent standing stones and realise the time. Racing down the road towards Harris, the site of Windscape, my new book-to-come, I just get into the library in the nick of time.

Argie Bargie

Stratford was bathed in sun as we boarded the barge and prepared to feast. Pate, pork and pricey river properties all came and went as we sailed down the Avon through a series of slimy locks that gurgled and bubbled. It was rather decadent but you're only here once. In the heart of Shakespear's-ville the tourists were buzzing and the fizz was flowing. Promise to be good next week. Back to reality and back to the thing I love doing most of all - exploring the Western Isles, from Ullapool to Oban and quite a few points in-between.

W H Smith show the way...

Sam Wilding wooed the children from Banchory in a W H Smith writing workshop, where the kids got to design their own monsters and run with their imagination....
W H Smith is showing its colours as a very proactive store that cares about the reader, and wants to develop new talent. Sam went on to raise awareness about asthma. He spoke recently at the Scottish Parliament on the subject and pointed out that James Peck, the main character in the Denthan series, has fantastic adventures despite the affliction... The Denthan series continues to be the most tagged children's book on Amazon.co.uk.

Ted McKenna and Wee Joe

Ted McKenna - legendary drummer of the Sensational Alex Harvey Band, The Michael Schenker Group and Rory Gallacher,to name a few, and, Wee Joe - The 6 years ago, main inspiration for Wee Joe in the Denthan Series. Ted and Joe are now a little older but both made a huge mark on my creative life. I've admired the various bands where Ted has drummed and Joe is still, as my youngest son, one of my main inspirations to write. On Saturday Ted gave a drum clinic where he showed his great skill and immense wit and experience. Wee Joe, a budding drummer, pianist and guitarist, loved every minute of it. Thanks, Ted. A huge thanks must be given to Jim Carr, another huge influence on my life, and to Johnny Watson, drummer of Littlehed, my rock outlet these days. It was great to meet so many other friends on the day. Great stuff!

Auchinairn Primary School - Recent Visit

What a great school! Auchinairn Primary children explored their own writing talents through a brilliant workshop where the children created their own characters and wrote out their own story board. Split into groups, they worked furiously under the guidance of Kirsty Rawley, a truly inspiring teacher, and myself to produce some fantastic work. They also used mind maps and passages from the Denthan series to give them a greater insight into their own work and really amazed me with their slick cartoon scenes and inventive plots. Great Work all round guys!

Sam Wilding meets Gordon Brown at Scottish Parliament

Gordon Brown promotes new fantasy book
Gordon Brown, of Asthma UK Scotland, met with children’s author, Sam Wilding, at the Scottish Parliament today. They attended a cross-party discussion group on asthma action plans and then took the opportunity to launch book three in the Denthan series to tie in with World Asthma Day. Sam Wilding’s fantasy trilogy about a boy hero with asthma has been a great success and Sam’s work in libraries and schools across Scotland has boosted creative writing among children and raised awareness of the affliction. Over 300,000 people have asthma in Scotland and awareness is key to saving lives and preventing primary care patients ending up in secondary care.
Sam had pictures taken with Emma Graham, Asthma UK Scotland’s Youth Engagement Officer.
If an asthma sufferer has an ‘asthma action plan’ they are 4 times less likely to have a serious attack. For more detail visit www.asthma.org.uk/scotland
For details on Sam’s fantasy adventure books for children from 7 – 87, visit Sam’s website at http://www.sam-wilding.com/

Return to Denthan released in 7 days

At last, The third and final book in the Denthan Series is to be released any day now.
Find out how the whole story ends and perhaps begins...

Sam Wilding and Kate Humble

Kate Humble and Sam Wilding
Yes, it was a long drive south to listen to vets and country folk enthuse over a new cure for sheep, but there was a fun night and a chance encounter. Carden Park is in the beautiful Chester countryside where, not far away, Kate Humble was filming ‘Lambing Live’. Manged a quick chat and a look at some of the local sheep. Baaaa! Spent much of the day signing books and chasing editors. Book 3 of the Denthan series is in its final throes. The sad thing was, I missed my Emma’s birthday, so I organised a trip in a hot air balloon for her.

Some Library Visits

Well, I'm a bit rusty but I'm still looking forward to some really great library visits with the help of Christine and the Scottish Book Trust. Arriving at at the library, I get organised and greet some 50 kids plus teachers and librarians. The Imagination session goes well with an array of fantastic questions at the end. Their drawings were tops and they behaved so well. You get the odd wee chestnut like - How much to do you make? What age are you? etc. These were fantastic children who seemed motivated and were very talented. I then speed on to the next spot where the children are equally enthused. I am particularly blown away by a boy called Lewis, who cannot see at all, but is totally part of the whole event, answering questions and showing his sense of fun and excitement during the reading section. I cover my usual Asthma Awareness section and am completely surprised to receive a gift from the Hecklegirth Primary School class. Lewis has written out the first few pages of The Magic Scales in Braille and the rest of the class have made an artistic collage of the front cover. I am totally lost for words. Sign posters etc and make my scary way north.

The Brits 2010

Flew down to London and got a taxi to the Tower Bridge Hotel. After a multimedia presentation, I sauntered over the bridge and explored. There was a champagne reception in the hotel before we set off on a river boat to the Brit Awards. More Champs and piano music, we sailed past Westminster and on to the venue. It was very strange to meeting people like Lindsay Lohan and various soap stars etc. George Best's son, Calum, was a delight. The event itself was well run and the food exceptionally good. Mingled until a the small hours and then returned to the hotel by taxi to sleep for a few hours before getting up at 6am to participate in 'The Apprentice'. Sold flowers in Portobello Rd and negotiated prices in Selfridges and Harrods etc. Returned to then get kitted out again and go out in stretch limo to a secret location for another dinner. Now typing this, having slipped away to bed and the much more normal prospect of spreadsheets, emails and doing a few edits. Back home to Glasgow tomorrow, thank God.

Going Home

Hardly on the same level, but I now know how Palin feels when a ferry doesn't turn up or a plane is missed. My plans are foiled and I will have to travel home via Uig and Eilean Donan castle. After the full Monty at the Polochar Inn, I say my goodbyes and head north to Lochmaddy. I pass Whooper Swans upturned in still, frozen lochens. Some of them look as if they've been frozen in the act of tipping; their bums jutting from the surface like fluffy icebergs. It's like a summer's day at Lochmaddy. The sea is like glass and I wander round the ferry terminal making sure that I have at least some of my descriptions right in the book I'm working on. I decide to keep my imaginary bus stop in place rather than plump for reality.

On the ferry, I sunbathe on deck as we pull out of the harbour. It's so nice that I wonder about sun tan lotion etc. A foriegn couple have a good laugh at my expense as I try, in vain, to balance my thin camera on my bag and push the timer at the same time. They eventually show some mercy, stepping in to take my pic. I write a few chapters on the smooth crossing and wiz off the boat at Uig. Between Uig and Portree I catch a glimpse of some really massive wind turbines on the horizon. This is why I'm writing the new book. It's a stark reminder of the duality, the conflict, the good and the bad. They cut an ugly swathe on the mountain-top but, on the other hand, there's something imposing and majestic in the way they move.

Moving down the west coast via Fort William and Glen Coe, I eventually chat to my old-time bass player Jim as I journey down the side of Loch Lomond. Home is only a few miles away now. I've missed the family, Betsy and all.

A Sign of the Times

Uist is an idyllic place but I found out that it is, sadly, no different from the rest of the world in many respects. It has wonderful beaches, a thriving community but, alas, some problems with the odd drug user and there has certainly been the occasional barney between neighbours and even kin. Houses lie empty, 'in dispute'. No one knows for certain who owns them. Surely this is all normal. Where there is human activity there is sure to be human failings. I guess that's where religion and telly come into play. Moral doctrine and escapism seem to go hand in hand here. Anyway... The Western Isles are still a million times more peaceful and beautiful than most places I've been to in my life. It's so nice that I even consider becoming an 'incomer' and look more closely at a few of the empty houses. Everyone I've met: at the libraries, schools and hotels have, without exception, been interesting and extremely friendly.

On a walk along the beach I see a man spreading heaps of seaweed over the grass behind the dunes. I ask him what he is doing. He explains that the seaweed, shoveled out in 20ft x 80ft patches, melts into the soil. After 2 months, or so, they rotovate the area and plant potatoes. A very old practice, I'm told. I am also given the 'ins and outs' of cutting peat. Nowadays, they tend to cut it on a slope, up a hill etc to avoid flooding. They store it, stacked in a breezy spot, so that it can dry into black, brittle blocks; the best for burning.

After my 5th walk along the beach and back, I settle down to an excellent anti-pasta salad, followed by a plate of humongous scallops and Stornoway back pudding. I give in to the cook, Ian's, pudding list and submit to his homemade cheese cake and lemon ice-cream. Gosh, I really need to get back to more edits and more writing. On Uist, it's too easy to relax. Bad news, however, spoils my coffee. There's no space on the Uist to Oban ferry. An M.P. has passed away and the funeral takes precedence. Fair enough. There are more important things... This means that I will have to go back home the long way, via Skye. Oh, well, never mind. It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it.

The Uist Wolf

After a day of more calls and more typing I stride out across the busy Uist road and stumble onto the beach. It stretches, unbroken, for 22 miles. But I plump for 2 of those miles, deciding that I don't want to overdo it. I am now free on a deserted beach with my binoculars swinging beneath my chins. Scanning for otters, I see instead a vast array of seabirds:- Redshanks, Turnstones, Knots, Oyster catchers, the yellow-billed Whooper Swan, the scatty Ringed Plover. They dart this way and that, scattering before me only to alight a few yards further on. A highpoint is spotting a snipe, which zigzags away across a boggy field, it's flight pattern designed to evade any troublesome bullet with ease. I disturb the same heron at least four times and get a very disgruntled 'Squaack!" Wigeon and Tufted Duck patter across a frozen lochen and Rock Pipits flutter up into the air for a second only to disappear again, instantly resuming invisibility a few feet from my position. Then I hear it... A far-off bark. The sound makes my blood freeze and I hesitate. Should I carry on or divert back to the beach? The barking intensifies and I catch a glimpse of the beast. Is it truly of this Earth? It thunders towards me and then stops dead, its jaws dripping long strands of drool. It begins to circle me as I back away and head for the beach. I can always dive into the waves as a last resort, swim, madly, for Barra. It follows me, a deep growl emanating from its bulky frame. I fumble for some trinket, some scrap of chocolate or steak in my pockets. All I find is a chewit wrapper, but this is better than nothing. Carefully, I lay it at my feet and back away. The great wolf of a beast runs at me but then stops... It sniffs my offering giving me the chance I need to bolt. I hear its thundering paws hammering into the headland behind me... The Uist Wolf is upon me! MUMMY!

Stornoway to Benbecula

Caught up on the laptop until about 9.30am. Why is it that a single nudge or bump can fire whatever you’ve been working on, for half the morning, into oblivion? I struggle downstairs with my gubbins and get off to work. On my lunch break, I meet a lovely lady called Kathleen at the Stornoway Library. She makes me coffee and we chat about the book I’m working on just now (wind farms, Harris and adventures etc) and then the Denthan series. We’re both keen to work with the schools in and around Lewis and Harris in the spring. Kathleen even suggests a book launch here in Stornoway Library for the new book that I'm researching on this trip. The Library has been newly renovated and is looking great. I move over the road to the bookshop and have a quick chat before trudging on. With ferry times front of mind, I drive down towards Tarbert sadly missing out the ring of stones at Callanish. Nine of these stones feature on the cover of the Magic Scales and have been a big part of my life for the last 2 years. I pass Ardvourlie Castle, where I spent many a happy day in the nineties. The place was bought for a pittance back in the late eighties by a Maths teacher from London and renovated with great care and love to its present state. Mr Martin, the owner when I knew the place, was a tremendous cook. The guy was a genius. He used to make old-fashioned dishes like rose petal crème brûlée and duck basted in orange and brandy. He even got up a 4 am to make the bread for breakfast. The linen was so well starched on the beds that, while attempting to pull the covers up round my neck one night, I lost my grip and whacked myself full force in the eye. With hazy memories of eagles, black eyes and otters, I push on for Tarbet. There's a bit of time before the ferry so I do some work and then pop into Library and meet Fiona. Again she is very welcoming and we hatch a few ideas. I leave a couple of Asthma UK posters and race down south to Leverburgh. On the way, in between unspoiled beaches and rugged headlands, I do and interview with a reporter,by phone, about book 3 of the Denthan series. I also chat with Gordon Brown; no, not that one, the one that’s in charge of PR for the Scottish branch of Asthma UK. We talk about possible festival appearances and a national newspaper interview. I reach Leverburgh and, quite famished, wander across to the Butty Bus that's parked up on the harbour. What a clean, well run outfit. I eat a marvellous beef burger and look out over the Sound of Harris. I talk to the owner, who is originally from Nottingham, about abandoned whaling stations and current house prices. Find out that the property prices are higher in Harris than they are in Lewis. The wee ferry arrives and I climb up into the crow’s nest to view the scene. Excitedly, I rush out into the elements to view a school of whales, which actually turn out to be a couple of rocks with a few fin-like cormorants in place. They seem to be playing a big practical joke on naive twitchers like me. I reach Berneray and then race south again to visit the local vets for more background on local farming practices. In the dark I attempt to find my hotel and have to phone a friend. The hotel sits, I presume, on a lovely beach. It’s pitch black. I can’t see. The food and the welcome at the Polochar Inn are second to none. Spend some time answering emails etc and eventually nod off… I said nod off…

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz…

Still laid up... plus chicken and chilli

Got my blood results back... mmm... Too much bad fat so... I'm going to keep to a more healthy diet. You see, you get good fat and bad fat, and at the moment my bad fat is winning 4:1. Not good. So the good fats like - olive oil, fish oil etc have to replace chocolate, chips and butter. Not that I thought I over indulged too much, but I was reminded that I do have the odd binge on Ferrero Rocher and Thornton's Aplini.

Getting hungry again, so here's another one of my recipes... Quick, easy and healthy.

Chicken and Chilli Soup

1 x cup of chicken bits (cooked)
I x leek (chopped and washed)
1 x pint of water
Chilli seeds (pinch)
teaspoon of tumeric
1 x Chicken stock cube

Put a little olive oil in pan
add leeks, tumeric, chilli and stock cube
mix round with wooden spatula
add chicken bits
add water and bring to boil.
reduce heat and let simmer for ten minutes.

Serve in nice wee white bowls with chinese spoons

Job Done!

Feeling better already.