Petersens take on Caledonia classic

New version: The Petersens performing Caledonia in a YouTube video. From left are Katie Petersen, Emmett Franz, Julieanne Petersen, Ellen Haygood and Matt Petersen. Obscured is Karen Peterson

A refreshing version of the classic folk ballad Caledonia has been delivered by The Petersens, a bluegrass family band from the United States who I previously wrote about in this 2020 post.

While it's near impossible to better the original sung by the song's composer Dougie MacLean, this cover has an elegance of its own thanks to the waifish quality of Julianne Petersen's vocals.

The youngest member of the band combines singing duties with mandolin playing, wrapping the song in her signature delicate and fragile voice, hinting at the ethereal and bringing her own dimensions to the track.

A gem within the The Petersens, she often delivers strikingly beautiful interpretations of well-known tracks such as Coldplay's The Scientist, Sting's Fields of Gold, and The Cranberries' Dreams - the latter a wonderful tilt of the hat to the late Doleres O'Riordan. The natural vocal inflections of O'Riordan and Julianne Petersen are closely aligned.

Caledonia, which dates from 1977, is MacLean's much-loved ode to his native country, Scotland. It has found favour not only in Scotland but amongst the other Celtic nations, notably Ireland. The Petersens have an affinity for Irish and Scottish tunes and chose to record the song to celebrate St Patrick's Day. They'd originally encountered it being played at gatherings while touring in Ireland.

As a unit The Petersens have delightful chemistry and formidable musicianship, combining the sound of fiddle, guitar, mandolin, banjo, double bass and dobro, with five prominent, confident and distinctive vocal styles.

Backing vocals on Caledonia come from Julianne Petersen's sister Ellen Haygood and Emmett Franz. All the core singing members could have brought the track alive in different ways. Matt Petersen has a ranging voice, while the aforementioned Franz continues to emerge as a solid, thoughtful singing talent.

Banjo player Haygood, the middle Petersen sister, once appeared on the TV contest show American Idol, and has a melodic and a wide-ranging vocal style.

The Petersens' musical leader is Katie Petersen, who gifts an adorably grounded presence to the band. A versatile fiddle player, she possesses the most faultless and agile singing of all. However, on Caledonia she concentrates fully on her fiddle.

I would be remiss not to mention final core playing member Karen Petersen, who provides a solid beat on the double bass.

Caledonia showcases the lilting joy of Julianne Petersen's voice and leaves one wondering how perfect it would be if The Petersens one day end up as special guests at Dougie MacLean's own Shades of Perthshire Amber festival.

Here is the official YouTube video of The Petersens performing Caledonia:

Buck Rogers actor's cosmic final message

Three months have passed since I first intended to make this post but never got round to writing it. Well, here it is, delayed but still relevant and poignant.

Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a TV serial that ran from 1979 to 1981.

Its main star was Gil Gerard, who played the role of a cocky astronaut who'd been frozen in suspended animation since the year 1987 until he thawed out and returned to a very changed planet Earth. 

Anyone who grew up watching this television series, which came during the Star Wars-led science fiction renaissance of the late 1970s and early 1980s, will know how delightful the show was in terms of special effects not previously seen on TV, and its mostly playful story lines. 

Gerard was a perfect fit for the lead role, although he had his own reservations about the consistently non-serious side of his character's personality.

Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was a reflection of its time; providing light-hearted escapism that easily slotted into the weekly TV schedule. Fresh-faced Gerard became an instantly recognisable hero bringing some of the glamour of cinema's blockbuster science fiction genre to the small screen. Indeed, the extended pilot episode was released initially on the big screen, and I recall seeing it first at the cinema.

The aesthetic of Buck Rogers in the 25th Century was pleasing to the eye - from the clean sets to the futuristic uniforms and non-stereotypical robots and computers, which made the show feel fresh.

I remember watching Buck Rogers as a youngster when I'd seek out any science fiction in the vein of Star Wars and the earlier TV show Space:1999. In formative years, while growing up, certain shows and actors feel as though they are part of our lives, and remain so even when the memory of them is far in the past. Often it is only when we hear of the passing of one of the main stars that we stop and reflect on what they meant to our younger selves.

And so it was for me when I heard the news of Gil Gerard's passing a week or so before Christmas last year. 

But I was also cheered to read his final message to his fans, which was posted on his Facebook account by his wife Janet. In it Gerard gave a heartfelt thanks for opportunities he'd had in life, for the people he'd met and for the love he'd given and received. He encouraged others not to waste time on anything that does not thrill them or bring love. And, in his final parting words, in true Buck Rogers style, said he'd one day meet us out somewhere in the cosmos.
It leaves a picture in my mind of the youthful Gerard, invariably as Buck Rogers circa 1979-1981, in space and untouched by the march of time, waiting to continue that connection first felt watching his exploits on TV.

Gil Gerard died on December 16, 2025 from a rare and aggressive cancer. He was 82.

Here is Gil Gerard's Facebook message, posted by his wife Janet the day after he died:

If you are reading this, then Janet has posted it as I asked her to.

My life has been an amazing journey. The opportunities I’ve had, the people I’ve met and the love I have given and received have made my 82 years on the planet deeply satisfying.

My journey has taken me from Arkansas to New York to Los Angeles, and finally, to my home in North Georgia with my amazing wife, Janet, of 18 years. It’s been a great ride, but inevitably one that comes to a close as mine has.

Don’t waste your time on anything that doesn’t thrill you or bring you love. See you out somewhere in the cosmos.

The Waterboys' conceptual take on Hopper

Touring again: Mike Scott, left, leads The Waterboys onstage during the opening night of their 2025 tour.

It promised to be a show with an unusual concept, and so it proved as The Waterboys opened their 2025 tour before a near-capacity audience at Basingstoke's Anvil venue.

Amongst those on stage was Mike Scott, the band's founding and sole ever-present member. It is said that since forming in 1983, The Waterboys have had more personnel than any other group, with the tally of past and present members now hovering north of seventy. The current five-piece unit have been together for a good number of years and it showed in the tightness of their performance. 

A Pagan Place, the titular song of the group's 1984 second album, was their opening gambit as they ignited the evening with a string of back catalogue gems. A powerful rendition of Glastonbury Song soon followed as they hit their stride. Album track How Long Will I Love You - a cover of which was a major hit for Ellie Golding - proved to be another audience pleaser.

As the evening unfolded it became clear the set was divided into three phases. The opening and closing featured career highlights, while the middle section delved into songs from the newly released and somewhat concept album Life, Death and Dennis Hopper. This celebration of the late actor echoes the treatment given to WB Yeats in 2011, when the band paid homage to the Irish poet with an album and tour.

So why now Hopper? Scott explained that the actor's life and career was tightly interwoven with cultural turning points in the second half of the twentieth century - from appearing alongside James Dean in Rebel Without A Cause and Giant, to directing and co-starring in the counter-culture movie Easy Rider. Also, it allowed a dive into a rich tapestry of Americana including Hopper's friendship with pop culture artist Andy Warhol, and his eight-day marriage to Michelle Phillips, of The Mamas & Papas. One of the night's songs was a ballad to Ms Phillips.

The Hopper section of the concert featured contributions from Barney Fletcher, the youthful guest backing singer who appears on the Sun Records-released album and adds strikingly unusual - and somewhat otherworldly - vocals. Also augmenting the core line-up on a few songs was support act Zervas & Pepper. 

Among the Hopper album tracks played were Hopper's On Top (Genius), Golf They Say, Andy (A Guy Like You) and the best of the new crop of tunes I Don't Know How I Made It.

A towering back screen behind the band was occasionally illuminated with video clips and photographs of Hopper, adding to the conceptual mood. One video showed Steve Earle singing Kansas, the album's opening track co-written by Earle and Scott.

Other notable guests on the album include Bruce Springsteen and Fiona Apple. Springsteen's contribution was on the song Ten Years Gone, which was played during the evening - alas, without an appearance by The Boss.

When the Hopper segment ended it was followed by further tunes from The Waterboys' past, with a clear leaning in to the 1985 album This Is The Sea, possibly to mark its 40th anniversary, but maybe also as a tip of the hat to former band member Karl Wallinger who died last year. That album's Scott-Wallinger composition Don't Bang The Drum, along with Medicine Bow, The Whole of the Moon, and The Pan Within were all performed. On the latter, the duelling keyboards of Brother Paul (Brown) and James Hallawell provided one of the evening's memorable moments.

Having already played the band's most famous tune The Whole of the Moon, it was the group's other signature song, Fisherman's Blues, that rounded off the encore to leave the audience happy as they departed.

In Basingstoke, on the opening night of a lengthy tour with many sold out gigs ahead, The Waterboys showed how they are continuing to push frontiers on their musical journey.

End of the evening: The Waterboys react to the cheers of the audience at the Anvil in Basingstoke

Karl Wallenger's masterful musical journey

Outstanding talent: Karl Wallenger on stage with The Waterboys in Leicester on October 11, 1985. This was his penultimate appearance with the group in the UK before he left to form his own band World Party.

Karl Wallenger, a remarkable musician and a standout talent of the past 40 years, has died at 66.

As an early member of The Waterboys he was part of the trio - alongside founder Mike Scott and Anthony Thistlewaite - responsible for the band's epic opus This is The Sea. The 1985 album contained the ageless The Whole of The Moon.

A music paper article that year stirred my interest in the up-coming but relatively little-known group. The writer commented on the possibility that Scott and Wallenger might be the Lennon-McCartney of the 1980s. I bought This is The Sea and the single The Whole of The Moon. 

Despite The Whole of The Moon becoming a radio staple and regarded as one of the defining tracks of the decade, on its initial release it stalled at No.25 in the UK charts. This was possibly due to the group's refusal to mime to the track on Top of The Pops. (The song became a major success when re-released in 1991 after it was used on a TV advert).

In October 1985, I forked out £2.50 to see the group at Leicester Polytechnic. I wasn't disappointed. The energy and musicianship was unquestionable. The venue was jumping and I'd taken along my first SLR camera to capture the scene, holding it aloft - like the crazy photographer in Apocalypse Now - to take ambient-lit shots above the heads of the jostling, swaying audience.

On stage were Scott, Thistlewaite (Leicestershire-born, so a local lad) and Wallenger. They were augmented by fiddle player Steve Wickham who, alongside Scott, became a mainstay of the group for most of the subsequent four decades. Wallenger certainly looked the part wearing coloured Lennon-esque grandad glasses. His backing vocals and keyboard talent were clear; listen to the latter stages of The Whole of The Moon to appreciate the impact his synth bass has on the crescendoing classic.

But even in the excitement of that gig Wallenger seemed distracted in the moment, in a way that the others in the group weren't. Although not known at the time, it was to be his last but one UK appearance with The Waterboys. He departed the group before the tour concluded.

The reason for the split, reportedly, was Wallenger's realisation that his musical ambition would bring him into conflict with the group's leader Scott. So much then for that hint at a Lennon-McCartney styled partnership. But would Scott and Wallenger fade without the input of the other, or would one emerge as the leading talent? 

Initially, I kept my eyes on both, buying Wallenger's first post-Waterboys record, the single Ship of Fools. It was a stunner. He'd formed the group World Party (incidentally, the same name as a song on the album This is The Sea). Ship of Fools was a poppy but poignant lament at the state of the world; a song that rings as true today as it did in the mid-80s.

It became apparent that Wallenger had a striking ability to craft meaningful lyrics and pare them with winningly harmonious pop music; music that leant towards joyfulness. That was the case with the track Put the Message in the Box, a song I defy anyone to listen to and not feel their mood lift.

As things turned out, I tracked the musical output of The Waterboys more closely than World Party. In the wake of losing Wallenger, The Waterboys' musical direction shifted to create the folk-orientated masterpiece albums Fisherman's Blues and Room To Roam. Experimentation with other sounds and genres have kept them sounding fresh to this day.

Meanwhile, Wallenger's musical furrow with World Party brought a string of successful albums and a top 20 single. He also worked with Sinead O'Conner. A cover version of the Wallenger-penned She's The One was taken to number one by Robbie Williams.

In 2001, Wallenger suffered a brain aneurysm. However, he returned to making music and performing five years later.

The collaboration of Wallenger and Scott on two Waterboys albums gave a tantalising glimpse of what might have been had they formed a lasting working partnership. However, their separate paths mean we have two distinct and very rich musical careers to enjoy.

Reacting to the passing of Wallenger, Scott posted the following on X: "Travel well my old friend. You are one of the finest musicians I've ever known."

A Scottish journalist's tales from another time

 

BOOK REVIEW:

A grain of truth: A Scottish journalist remembers by Jack Webster
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I picked up the book A Grain of Truth at a charity shop, not knowing anything about Jack Webster, but having an interest in the story of a local journalist whose career started in the north-east of Scotland and eventually led him to roles at one of the most prestigious national newspapers of the day.

The back cover of this 200-page book states that Jack Webster was one of Scotland's best known journalists. His career began in the later 1940s, and this autobiography was printed in 1981, when he would have been 50.

It's a well-written selection of memories of his childhood and youth in the Buchan area of Aberdeenshire, rich in colourful descriptions and tone to capture a way of life that, even then, was fading as modern ways changed the world.

The breadth of Webster's stories take in the pre-World War II years, the war, and the post-war world. The reader encounters stories that include brushes with such illustrious folk as Bernie Forbes, Charlie Chaplin, Mohammed Ali, and John Paul Getty.

The way Webster recalls these assorted tales is evocative and 'unshowy'. He writes with a journalist's eye to detail and with conciseness. There is room for Webster to ponder life and the march of time, which he does most powerfully in the final chapters, including a touching farewell to his parents.

At a distance of more than 40 years since these recollections were written - and with Webster himself no longer around - it is an interesting snapshot into a past world, with its values, characters and exploits. There are many surprises to be found within its pages.

Webster wrote subsequent books of memoirs, including an autobiography, which I hope to read one day having now had my interest piqued. However this, his first venture as a book writer, is a satisfying entry point to learn about the life and determination of a young journalist from a far-flung corner of rural Scotland, who went on to travel the world and meet some of its most famed personalities.

View all my reviews

Ice Cold in Alex - a classic for the ages

Memorable scene: the four main characters, played by John Mills, Sylvia Syms, Anthony Quayle 

and Harry Andrews, enjoy a drink in Ice Cold in Alex.

Sylvia Syms, the last living star of Ice Cold in Alex, has died.

The 1958 movie is in my top ten films of all time, and has been since I first watched the black and white classic on television sometime in the 1980s. I was a teenager then and, across four decades, I’ve returned to the movie through repeat screenings on TV and DVD viewings.

Set during the Second World War, it is mesmorising from start to finish. The scene with the four main characters at the bar in Alexandria, Egypt, is impossible to forget. It captures the end of an adventure, and a bond between four people who shared a gruelling, testing journey and the sacrifices it entailed - an experience that would be a defining moment in anyone's life.

 
The photograph of the quartet at the bar also embodies standards, morals, dignity and service to oneself and others, displayed at a level and in ways that now seem heartbreakingly distant. When I last watched Ice Cold in Alex I wondered if any of the four in that memorable bar scene was still alive. At the time, Syms was the lone surviving link to the classic.
 
Now they are all gone. However, the beauty of the film they made and the story they told lives on. I highly recommend a viewing of this film. 

A masterpiece of music: Joshua Tree

Masterpiece: Joshua Tree was a career defining album for U2

Across my collection of music, which stretches to a few hundred singles and albums, there is only one item by U2. But it is also a recording that I constantly return to. It is the most satisfyingly complete album of the past 40 years.

Joshua Tree was released in 1987, and I was drawn to it through familiarity of its radio-friendly hit songs, With or Without You, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, and Where The Streets Have No Name.

The record became part of my life that year and the next, when it was one of three cassettes I carried in my backpack as I set off for a one-year adventure in Australia (the other two cassettes were Suzanne Vega's Solitude Standing, and Robyn Hitchcock's Fegmania).

And so Joshua Tree burnt a place in my psyche as it was played in heavy rotation on my Sony Walkman.

Now, some 35 years on, it continues to be the post-1985 album I can most enjoyably listen to all the way through. Experiencing it through quality headphones allows the music to best work its lulling magic.

Of its 11 tracks the only one I'm ever tempted to skip is Bullet The Blue Sky, which is weaker than the ten shining gems around it.

This masterpiece album has a continuity of atmosphere, musical prowess and songwriting excellence that elevates it above almost anything else that has come and gone in the past four decades of popular music.

U2 deserve full praise for this career defining peak. There was also an important role for the late Kirsty MacColl, who although uncredited on the album, chose the running order that the songs appear in, sculpting the record's faultless flowing musical path.

Joshua Tree captures a moment in time, a mid/late 1980s mood undimmed by the passage of time.

There is only one U2 appearance in my collection, but through Joshua Tree it is a starring one.

A farewell to the Queen

Aussie walkabout: I was fortunate to be standing with well-wishers who
 presented flowers to the Queen in Perth, West Australia, in April 1988

As the news broke last evening that Queen Elizabeth II had died at 96, I tuned in to the television broadcasts, listening for a few hours to the tributes pouring in and watching the people gathering outside Buckingham Palace and Balmoral Castle.

Then I switched off the TV and went for a walk to clear my head. It was nearing 8pm when I headed out into a twilight world strangely silent and closed. I encountered no traffic nor another soul. In the darkening gloom, grey clouds blanketed the sky and hung like half-lowered veils over the hills. Following a forestry planation track I ventured through the showery nightfall.

Strolling alone with my thoughts, I reflected on what the Queen meant to me and to this country and its people, and to countless millions further afield.

In the firmament of life she created a unique connection for many, a connection that is impossible to adequately explain or describe. She was a steady rock in life - a presence beyond the orb of our own lives, yet also a part of ours. She symbolised a wise relative, albeit one beyond our normal reach. Yet whenever a national crisis occurred or celebration was sparked, she had a way to embody and express this and to reassure.

Until now, the Queen was a constant presence in my life. She had already reigned for 14 years by the time I was born. More than half-a-century has passed since.

I've known her through everyday objects, whether it be her portrait on coins and bank notes or on stamps. Even when living abroad in Australia and Bermuda this was much the same case.

And every year on Christmas Day hearing the Queen's message and knowing that something peaceful and steady would be shared with us all reinforced that special connection.

Magical unicorn: A light-hearted letter I wrote to the Daily News 
in Perth, West Australia ahead of the Queen's visit in April 1988

In this era of modern telecommunications she and her family have been welcomed into our homes, and we have been welcomed into hers, in ways and with a broadness experienced by no other monarch of these isles.

In our lives she have been a steadying presence through thick and thin, happy times and troubled.

I treasure a royal mint coin from the 1977 silver jubilee, one of which was given to each pupil at my junior school. That jubilee, and its memorable street parties, was the first recollection I have of the Queen.

Although we never met, I was twice a spectator in the crowds that greeted her - once in Perth, West Australia in 1988, and again in Bermuda in 2009.

She will be remembered as one of the most extraordinary figures in history, and as monarch who embodied the heart and spirit of this country and her people.

We've laughed and celebrated with her and her family, through the jubilees, weddings, and special events like the London Olympics. I'm especially fond of the playful clip of the Queen alongside Paddington Bear at this year's platinum jubilee. 

And yes, there have been sad times - the death of Princess Diana, and of the Queen's cherished husband Prince Philip, and now her departure.

Last evening as I walked the forestry trail I reflected and processed what she meant to me. 

Your Majesty, Queen Elizabeth ... Lilibet. Thank you for all you have added to life's journey. We shall never forget. Peace.

Below: the video of the Queen with Paddington Bear at this year's platinum jubilee celebration.

Breakfast club with space heroes

Barbara Bain, right, as Dr Helena Russell in Space:1999. Ms Bain was
a celebrity guest at Autographica, in March 2014

As strange moments in life go it's one that is vivid and does not fade. And that is not by lucky coincidence. 

For there are day-to-day memories, and then there are vivid snapshots - moments in time etched forever in your mind, ready to be replayed whenever you choose.

An example of this "vivid snapshot" technique was the morning I enjoyed breakfast in the company of some of my childhood heroes from the world of science fiction.

Walking into the breakfast room at the conference hotel I saw Kenny Baker, the actor who played R2-D2 in the Star Wars movie. He was seated at a table with actress Valerie Gale, who accompanied him.

He waved and called out "Bermuda" as Heather and I chose a table and sat down. We'd spoken to him the previous day at the reception gathering at the beginning of the March 2014 Autographica event, and that is how he had found out that I'd travelled from Bermuda.

A few moments after I'd entered the breakfast room, Space:1999 actress Barbara Bain also walked in. Like Mr Baker and Ms Gale, she was a celebrity guest for the weekend. She'd attended the reception drinks event held in the atrium at the top level of the Radisson Heathrow hotel on the outskirts of London. Others there included moonwalking Apollo astronauts Buzz Aldrin and Alan Bean.

Star Wars and Space:1999 were touchstone entertainment favourites of mine as I grew up in the 1970s. Now, to be sitting down for breakfast in the same room as two of the well-known names from those sci-fi adventures felt unique and almost unreal.

Shortly afterwards, in the main hotel lobby I encountered Dave Prowse, the man who played Darth Vader in the original Star Wars trilogy.  

Barbara Bain answers audience questions
during the Autograhica weekend, 2014

The conference was filled with other encounters and moments, including opportunities to speak briefly with Ms Bain, Mr Aldrin, Mr Baker, Mr Prowse and others. I wrote about the event in a contemporaneous blog post eight years ago.

That moment at breakfast has remained vivid in my mind, more so than if I'd taken a photograph, and far more than the most other recollections.

 

The reason for such clarity is a technique I deliberately used. It is akin to taking a detailed, mental snapshot. For I was acutely aware how impossible that moment would have seemed to my 11-year-old self; not only seeing a hero from Star Wars and a heroine from Space:1999, but simultaneously in the same hotel dining room for breakfast.

When extraordinary special moments come along in life, use this technique.  Recognise those moments for what they are - gifts in life - and intimately preserve the sights, sounds and feelings by consciously taking in as much as you can to create a snapshot memory.

A vanishing way of life high among the hills

A vanishing world: Katharine Stewart's celebrated
A Croft in the Hills is contained in A Life in the Hills,
an omnibus edition featuring four of her books

In A Croft in the Hills, Katharine Stewart chronicles the years that she, her husband Jim and their daughter Helen lived high in the hills bordering Loch Ness.

The memoir begins with an account of what led to the family waving goodbye to suburban life and embarking on a shared vision and passion to eke out a living in a remote place. It is the story of how they pursued that desire for a self-sustaining livelihood "on the edge".

The Stewarts chose a location that was susceptible to fearsomely harsh weather and to soaring wonderment and beauty. It is the 1950s, and the young couple and their daughter learn the ways of the land and how to run a smallholding. It involves sacrifices, impoverishment and the unconditional support of neighbours.

At times, everything seems perfect with good fortune shining and life going their way, but there are also setbacks, adjustments and reassessments of what is possible.

First published in 1960, an additional end piece to the book was added by the author in a 1979 update.

Stewart captures a world and way of life that, even as she and her family embarked upon it, was coming to an end. Some of the characters mentioned were already local legends, and many were soon to be gone.

In joining the Stewarts, the reader experiences the turning of the seasons and glimpses a life built on a small, tight-knit community familiar with sparse and enduring hardships, but ready and willing to help one another without quibble or question.

I found this book's greatest joy in the moments where the author shares more deeply her thoughts on what it means to have taken this direction in life, and the fulfillment from simple pleasures far from the city lights.

A Croft in the Hills is regarded as an important record of a time, now 70 years distant, and the indomitable spirit of the Stewarts and those they knew on the hillsides high in the Highlands of Scotland.

I read the book in A Life in the Hills, The Katharine Stewart omnibus published posthumously in 2018, which also contains Stewart's books from the 1990s, A Garden in the Hills, A School in the Hills, and A Post in the Hills.

The combined edition, A Life in the Hills, is published by Berlinn Ltd.

Benches of reflection and gratitude

Peaceful spot: the memorial bench for Geoffrey Burns,
at Cooper's Island in Bermuda

Each bench tells a story. On them are the names of people now departed, who have been honoured with words of remembrance by those who knew them.

In weekly wanderings around these quite nature reserves and parks I've grown familiar with the benches and the names. On each there are usually a few more words that conjure a thought and a moment of reflection.

Curiosity led me to find out a little about who these people were. It creates a small connection and an appreciation for their lives and how fondly they are remembered in these peaceful surroundings.

On the far eastern edge of Bermuda, in the nature reserve known as Cooper's Island, there are three personalised benches.

One is at an area known as "Geoff's Point". It is a tucked away spot of solitude, where the soothing sound of waves washing upon the long sandy beach can be heard. Nature envelops this bench, and two non-personalised benches nearby.

The bench is in memory of Geoffrey Martin Burns. It has his dates, 1990 - 2010, and the message: "To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die." Geoff was a student and a lifeguard. His friends, including fellow beach lifeguards, on hearing of his passing gathered that day in 2010 to place tributes to the popular young man who had been about to resume his overseas studies.

Ocean outlook: the bench for Adam Godwin
features a quote by Bob Marley

The other two benches in the Cooper's Island reserve that feature names are less than a mile away. One remembers Brenda Mattingly, and the other Adam Goodwin.

Adam died at 22, in 2010. He had a love for the ocean and was a key figure on the Spirit of Bermuda sloop, a training ship that introduced young students to the art of sailing and the adventure of travel.

On his bench is a quote attributed to singer Bob Marley. It reads: "Live for yourself and you will live in vain; live for others and you will live again."

Nearby is Brenda's seat, which a small brass plaque declares is also known as Gigi's Bench. It carries her dates 1954-2016. Brenda was a teacher, and head of geography at the Bermuda High School for Girls.  The seat overlooks a peaceful inlet and faces back towards Bermuda and the north shore where the Ferry Reach national park can be found.

In loving memory: the bench for Brenda Mattingly
is also known as Gigi's bench

Like Cooper's Island, Ferry Reach is another large expanse of tranquility and peace. It is a tract of undeveloped land where nature flourishes mostly unimpeded. A bench at the western end of the park is inscribed in memory of Donna De Silva. It features her dates, 1962 - 2012, along with a quote that has been attributed to actress Judy Garland. It reads: "The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye, but found by the heart."

I do not know much about Donna, but I appreciate the thought-provoking words on her bench, which looks out from atop a 200-year-old fort at Ferry Point Island.

All these benches are well positioned and serving as quiet spots for reflection on the world, and perhaps a moment to imagine the people who meant so much to their loved ones, who in turn placed a bench in their memory for the benefit of all.

One Mile Jetty was a landmark on journey

Piece of history: One Mile Jetty at Carnarvon, Western Australia,
as it was in June 1988. I dubbed it the "Stand by Me" bridge.

In a remote corner of the Australian outback it had stood for 124 years, until a few weeks ago when a cyclone thundered through and ripped it apart. 

One Mile Jetty, at Carnarvon in Western Australia, was close to a mile long and was built to allow the transfer of goods, such as livestock and wool, from the mainland to ships anchored in deeper water at the far end. It had long become obsolete and suffered periods of dereliction and abandonment - including the time when I paid my one visit, in the late 1980s. 

However, the jetty underwent a renaissance starting in 1998 as a local organisation helped to restore and re-open it to the public as an attraction. It wasn't all plain sailing as a fire damaged part of the jetty in 2007 and, ten years later, the structure was deemed unsafe and was closed once more.

The devastation left in the wake of Cyclone Seroja this month may have ended the jetty's days for good. It is estimated many millions of dollars would be needed to repair the structure. It has been suggested that a short portion of the jetty could be salvaged and reopened.

It was in June 1988 when I visited Carnarvon. I was hitchhiking from Perth to the north-western corner of the state, through the remote Pilbara and Gascoyne regions, and ended up at the jetty as I scouted for an out of the way spot to pitch my tent for the night. 

I dubbed the jetty "Stand by Me" bridge, after the famous railway bridge scene in the 1986 film. It was in a state of abandonment at that time and was closed off as being unsafe. Nevertheless, I explored it. That day I later met a fellow backpacking traveller from the UK. His name was Yorath, and he was from Wales. He'd decided to visit the remote Australian town as it bore the same name as a major Welsh town.

We two travelling strangers struck up a friendship and shared stories at the wild camping site in the scrubland off to the side of the jetty, away from the township. We shared an evening meal of tined potatoes and beans, and tea. Yorath had to leave at some ungodly hour during the night to catch the coach that was heading back to Perth. When I got up the next morning there was only the empty cans to remind me of the meal and conversation the evening before.

I packed up my tent and walked back along "Stand by Me" bridge to continue my trek.

That was 33 years ago, but the jetty has stayed in my memory. It was an unusual landmark on my journey, and also brought a fleeting moment of friendship with another outback traveller who, like me, had decided that a far-flung adventure while still young was the way to go.

When I heard of the destruction of the jetty I was saddened. But I hope some of the jetty remains and can be made safe for visitors to walk along again. I for one would like to reacquaint with it.

Cinema slips away without fanfare

Once a place of imagination: Southside Cinema has been closed
 for more than seven years, and appears unlikely to ever reopen

It stands empty and forlorn, ravaged by climate and weather. There has been no audience for more than seven years, and in all likelihood the final curtain has fallen at the derelict Southside Cinema in Bermuda.

For many decades cinemas have been reducing in numbers, the result of changing tastes. That trend is evident at Southside Cinema.

When it was open, I occasionally went along to watch a movie or two. Films I saw included Pride and Prejudice, She's the Man and Superman Returns. It was convenient and out of the way at the eastern end of the island, far less visited than the two main cinemas in the city of Hamilton. 

Located in the former US baselands, the cinema was constructed by the Americans for personnel stationed at what was once the Kindley Air Force Base, on St David's Island, from 1948 to 1970, and which became the US Naval Air Station Bermuda from 1970 to 1995.

The cinema was operated by the Army and Air Force Motion Picture Service, and was reputed to have access to the latest movies weeks in advance of the civilian cinemas elsewhere in Bermuda.

Once the US military departed Bermuda in 1995, the theatre became a local enterprise.

With a 425-seating capacity it was the largest cinema on the island, which was another reason why I favoured it. It was rarely busy. However, I do remember in April 2006, during the Bermuda International Film Festival, when it was famously packed to the max, with a queue outside that included the island's Premier at the time, Alex Scott. Kudos to Mr Scott for not pushing in (he was behind me in the queue). However, he did not stay for the second feature that day, Neil Young's Prairie Wind concert film.

That spike in popularity was an anomaly. Most of the time the cinema barely attracted a few dozen customers. It was dated, and the once impressive interior was fading with age. The main auditorium lights were always dimmed, perhaps to disguise the dilapidation. Admission was cash-only - no debit or credit cards.

In 2009, there was a double shooting outside the cinema shortly after a late movie showing. 

The cinema closed in 2013. There was talk of it being reopened, but it has remained shuttered.

Now it stands empty, its exterior showing increasing damage from the elements. Who knows how much longer the building will be there? Its days appear numbered.

Southside Cinema served its purpose and brought many hours of joy to countless audiences for more than 50 years, and I can attest to its success in immersing audiences in entertaining "other worlds" - if only for an hour or two at a time.

As Southside Cinema slips away without fanfare, the happy memories of the movies it once showed live on.

Norah Jones connects in disconnected times

Norah Jones: Lifting spirits in uncertain times

There is a calm feeling of connectedness when watching Norah Jones' video updates on YouTube.

In what appears to be her home, she sits alone and plays her songs, with her immediate audience no more than a self-operated camera.

Like most of us, she is handling this world where we are disconnected from all that we previously knew and took for granted.

Yet even in separation, we can connect. Norah does so by playing songs, some that have been suggested to her online, others chosen by herself.

At the end of an evening I unwind listening to her solo versions and feeling empathy with the solace she finds herself in, we find ourselves in, and where she manages to connect in a creative and unconditional way. She is one of many artists who have found a way to share their talents freely with the world in these uncertain times. It is one of the positives that has come out of the pandemic experience.

Her version of Sunrise, one of her earliest songs, I particularly like.

Also, a video of four songs I'd previously never heard before is a favourite way to end the evening before turning in. The songs begin with the poignant You Are Not Alone, followed by Until The End, Don't Know What It Means, and What a Difference a Day Makes. Her voice and musicianship is a treat, and even when she finds herself at a loss to play a tricky or half-forgotten part, she shows her human fallibility in good nature.

Thank you, and keep lifting our spirts, Norah.

VIDEO:Norah Jones sings four songs on November 12, 2020

Fare thee well 'The Flying Scotsman'

The Flying Scot: Michael Whalley in the
Bermuda Day Half-Marathon in May 2011

We were both doing something we had loved most of our lives when we first met - running.

Michael Whalley was an approachable, friendly Scotsman who would always take an interest in how you were. His talent and competitive spirit was evident even though his advancing years had slowed him down, as happens to us all. 

In his prime he was given the nickname "The Flying Scotsman", and in 1981 he achieved a top three spot in Bermuda's signature race, the May 24 Marathon Derby (now known as the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon).

Mike's regular appearance at races meant he was an important fixture of the tight-knit community of runners who share the pain and pleasure of the good, and the not so good, race days. Through those encounters we kept up, to a degree, with one another's lives.

His wide circle of acquaintances continually expanded during his more than 50 years in the island running scene.

I appreciated his welcoming attitude, his candor, and the way he gave support. I have lost count of the many times he called out support from the other side of the road as a race route double-backed. I'd call back. Those mutual calls to one another as we battled our way to the finish line were important sprinkles of encouragement. 

Mike was an outstanding example of friendship, humanity and acceptance. It is hard to think that he is gone, at 74, and that he will no longer be there on race days. I thank good fortune that I was able to have known him these past 15 years. Fare thee well, my good friend.

After a race: Mike Whalley, Otis Robinson and I relax at the post race breakfast following
the 30th anniversary Fairmont-to-Fairmont Race in January 2007

Milestone: Mike Whalley, at 70, finishing the Bermuda Day Half-Marathon in May 2016. Behind
him are Poole Runners' Carole and Paul Ingham. A third Poole Runner (me) can be seen near the
top left watching. Mike's last finish in the famous race was the following year.

Thank you, Captain Sir Tom Moore

People's hero: Captain Sir Tom Moore

"To all those people who are finding it difficult at the moment, the sun will shine on you again, and the clouds will go away," Captain (later Sir) Tom Moore said. "Tomorrow will be a good day."

In the darkest days of the Covid-19 pandemic he emerged as a beacon of light and hope. Captain Sir Tom Moore, as he became once knighted by Queen Elizabeth II last summer, represented the spirt of the nation - and humanity in general - during the great challenge of our time.

It started in April 2020, with much of the world in lockdown as the pandemic spread. Captain Tom captured the hearts of the nation when he set himself a target of walking 100 lengths of the patio at his home to raise 1,000 pounds for charities that support the National Health Service. He aimed to complete his 100 laps, using a stroller, before his then upcoming 100th birthday.

He did it, and in the process gained national prominence and became a rallying point, a symbol for hope, and much more. He had lived and served through the Second World War, and had 100 years of life experience to draw upon. He was also one of us, and reflected and articulated the simple hopes many had but were afraid to utter. When those "sun will shine again" words came from a man of such longevity and worldly-experience, they meant much. 

He achieved his goal of 100 laps, and the public responded. Close to 33 million pounds was raised for the charities supporting the NHS.

Captain Sir Tom died this week, and there is a great feeling of loss. I reflected on what he embodied  as I sat, coincidently, in a place known as "Tom Moore's Jungle" in Bermuda, although it has no connection to Captain Sir Tom.

In a blog post last June, I mentioned Captain Sir Tom as I wrote about the surreal pandemic experience.  His humble humility and spark of belief lifted the hearts of the people in the United Kingdom and far beyond.

I salute you Captain Sir Tom, and I'm thankful to have had you in our midst.

Reflection and wisdom in unexpected places

Quiet spot: atop the ruined fort is the bench seat with its
in memoriam and words of reflection

At times the chill in the air bites. These days of January have felt constantly cooler and more unsettled than usual.

Today the sun shone, but was tempered by a northerly wind. I found a sun trap to rest and enjoy a coffee and let my thoughts wander. I was on a small island, Ferry Fort Island, at the western edge of Ferry Reach, in Bermuda.

In the lee of a limestone fort that had been built 200 years ago, protected from the wind I enjoyed the winter sun.

I wondered about the history of the silent ruins wrapped around me. This place had once been maintained for its historical interest, but now was fully neglected with wild plants encroaching and occupying the abandoned space.

Who were the people who built this fort two centuries ago, and what were their lives like? A gleaming white executive jet took off from the airport a mile away and flew above. What would the builders of this 19th century fort have made of such a sight?

On the journey to this little island I had passed a property called Northwinds. It made me think of today's north wind, and of a haunting ballad called Northwinds from 37 years ago by music group The Stranglers. A year after its release, and two-thirds of a lifetime ago, I'd seen them perform the song. Had time marched on so far and so fast?

Atop the fort ruins is a bench seat that commands a view of the nearby ocean. The seat is inscribed in memoriam to a lady called Donna DeSiliva [1962-2012], including a few words of wisdom and reflection.

I love discovering these unexpected fragments of thoughts in remote peaceful settings, which invite a moment to stop and consider.

Upon the bench are the words: "The greatest treasures are those invisible to the eye, but found by the heart."

End of the line for old railway building

All that remains: only the chimney wall side of the old railway building
 stands after the three other sides and roof collapsed.

For 86 years it stood at a windswept spot on one of the largest tracts of undeveloped land in Bermuda. It was the old engine shed for a small, private railway that allowed its wealthy owner to travel from his sprawling home across a stretch of wilderness to disembark at his halt and from there transfer onto the short-lived Bermuda Railway system.

Now the depot building has succumb to the ravages of time, its roof collapsed along with three walls. Exactly when the building gave way I am not sure, though I suspect this year's hurricane season, which included a direct hit from Hurricane Paulette in September, is a plausible answer.

The small structure was an evocative sight to come upon while walking the quiet, undeveloped expanse of Ferry Reach Park on the eastern side of the island. The stone building had long ago fallen into obsolesce. The last time the private 24-inch gauge train had operated on the single-track line was 1971, when it had briefly been brought back into working order by a new owner.

Evocative sight: the building as seen on December 23, 2006
 as the sun set on Ferry Reach Park, Bermuda

After that, the building became a relic in the corner of the wilderness. I came across it in 2006, and was struck by its lonely location and the way it seemed to symbolise as era that had passed. Two days before Christmas that year I took a photograph of the setting sun, capturing also the building and its wild setting.

Vincent Astor was the man who in 1934 created the private railway and the depot building. He was a member of America's wealthy Astor family, and the son of John Jacob Astor IV, a businessman, inventor and one of the richest men in the world, who was among those onboard when the Titanic sank in 1912.

Mr Astor came to Bermuda and owned a sprawling home called Ferry Reach House on the far side of Ferry Reach. He had the small gauge railway built, linking a boat jetty and his home to what was named Ferry Reach Junction, the terminus of his short railway line (less than a mile) and the meeting place with the Bermuda Railway which ran across the island on a single route from 1931 until 1948.

Mr Astor's private train was a scaled down replica of the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad's 2-6-2 Mainliner locomotive, specially built by the company of which Mr Astor was chairman. Near to the depot building is a small stone shelter which would have been used as the waiting spot to board the Bermuda Railway service.

The private railway, which also featured a small tunnel beneath Ferry Road, fell into disrepair after Mr Astor sold the estate.

However, in 1967 the estate was purchased by Herbert Bierman, who restored the train to full running order. He died in 1971, and that was the last year of the Ferry Reach Railway.

From then on, the building became a part of the quiet landscape, with nature encroaching and smothering all signs of the rail track. Meanwhile, the Bermuda Railway mainline had also long since vanished, and in 1984 most of the old route was designated a right of way trail for recreational use.

Collapsed: the roof beams resembled picked clean fishbones

It was while walking along the railway trail that I first encountered the old depot building, and it has remained a landmark point on subsequent strolls through the unspoilt and thinly visited, but beautiful oasis of wilderness. 

So it was a shock when I saw what had happened. The timbers of the collapsed roof jutted upwards, half-covered in the remains of slates, and looking like picked clean fishbones. The last remnants of the track, fragmenting and crumbling parallel lines of iron, were visible beneath the "chimney" stack - which is destined to be the last visible sign of the structure in years to come.

If you wander this way, look for the ruins of the old engine depot building and soak-in its quirky history that belongs to a bygone era.

The Petersens family band together

Lockdown uplift: The Petersens have been producing musical
 moments to delight a growing following on YouTube

Whatever else might be going on at YouTube, one thing's for sure - the algorithms are getting smarter and more refined. How else would I have come across a stunningly impressive family unit playing a delightful bluegrass-styled version of John Denver's Take Me Home, Country Roads.

As I have mentioned in a previous post, the popular video site is now one of the best conduits for music discovery - old or new. And so it proved again as I whittled away an evening jumping from song to song and dreaming of future days when coronavirus restrictions are done and it is possible to once more venture to live shows.

The evening was drawing to a close and I decided to listen to Denver's classic, only for YouTube to suggest I first check out The Petersens' 2020 version. The who?

I took a chance and clicked on the video - and within seconds was blown away.

The Petersens are a family band. On stage they consist of three sisters, a brother, their mother, and a close friend. They play originals and cover versions with the genres of country music and bluegrass well represented, but also a sprinkling of pop and even an Irish jig.

It is stripped-back acoustics played on a less common set of instruments  The ensemble features a fiddle, double bass, mandolin, guitar, banjo and dobro. Okay, perhaps not so unusual for a group with bluegrass roots, but certainly a departure on tunes such as Fields of Gold, The Scientist, Bohemian Rhapsody and You're Still The One.

Now, back to the Take Me Home, Country Roads video. The lead vocals were handled by Katie Petersen, the eldest of the siblings. There was a pitch-perfect opening, later accompanied by backing from sister Julianne and brother Matt, and it just got better and better. 

The quartet of siblings each play an instrument, and the arrangements are completed by the double bass of mother Karen, and stylish dobro from Emmett Franz.

On this song and in other videos The Petersens achieve a refreshing melodious and harmonic sound. There is youthful energy and a depth of feeling, a reminder of the joy of live music.

The band ventured onto YouTube only last year. It was a fortuitous decision as they have expanded their reach and brought joy to tens of thousands with songs, videos and live streams during this year's extensive lockdowns.

The backstory to the band is this: the Petersens moved around a lot as dad was a member of the air force. Looking for ways to keep the family bonded, they attended a bluegrass festival and saw other families playing together - the shared musical endeavour a focus and agent for solid 'togetherness'. The Petersens, who are now based in Branson, Missouri, decided to do the same.

Singing duties are shared around, with the Petersen siblings prominent. Katie, Ellen and Matt, and dobro player Emmett are strong and tuneful. Youngest sibling Julianne has a gentler style that at times features an unusual but delightful inflection in her vocal register. In fleeting moments, such as on Fields of Gold, it is reminiscent of the late Dolores O'Riordan.

The lack of electrified or amplified instrumentation adds to the sweet pleasure of the music. All six members are competent players of their chosen instruments. Above all a tight bond and a glow of happiness surrounds the band, reflected in their infectious smiles.

In these testing times The Petersens are a wonderful example of how uplifting music can be for the spirit. The Petersens have a website at https://www.petersenband.com/

Video of The Petersens performing Take Me Home, Country Roads:

Video of The Petersens performing Fields of Gold:

Vivid memoir of a childhood in the Highlands

Childhood memoir: W.A.M MacKenzie's
Where's Home? will brighten the winter evenings

As the dark nights draw in, and the winter chill bites, now is the time when many will reach for a comforting read to soften the heart and bring some cheer. But where to find a good read? 

A just-published work I recommend is William MacKenzie's memoir Where's Home? Glimpses of a boy I used to know. It is a series of recollections from his childhood, spanning the 1940s in Sutherland, in the north Highlands of Scotland.

W.A.M. MacKenzie's vivid recollections cover everything from family life, to helping out on the farm, school days, community celebrations, and a great many boyhood adventures. Although the events are more than 70 years distant, MacKenzie said he could better recall things that had happened so many decades ago than he could what had happened yesterday.

There is a gentle touch of humour and lightheartedness in his plain English writing style.

Where's Home? is a heartwarming stroll through a period that now seems unhurried and simple, with connections and bonds greatly treasured. The book is a memoir and includes interwoven snippets of local history and a passing nod to historical moments. These all add to the colour and vividness of the world as seen and experienced by the young MacKenzie.

Perhaps there was scope to add deeper thoughts on what these distant moments now mean to MacKenzie from his latter-day perspective as an 80-year-old. Perhaps there could have been room for more autobiographical additions to trace, even if briefly, MacKenzie's life as an adult. But these are my personal pondering and should not detract from what Where's Home? is at heart. It is an abundant recollection and a delightful read that offers an escape for a few hours - or a few days - to a world now vanished.

For those wondering, as I, about MacKenzie's life beyond these childhood tales, he lived for decades in the West Midlands, in England, before returning to Sutherland. He once owned the former Cathedral Cafe in Dornoch, and spent his later years living further north in the village of Brora.

He became a writer in his sixties after joining the Dornoch writers' group. He authored a number of novels. The memoir Where's Home? stands out as his one work of non-fiction. He self-published it as a kindle e-book in the early 2010s. A second e-book version was released in 2015.

In the past few years, short articles clipped from stories in Where's Home? were featured in the new quarterly magazine Kyle Chronicle, which serves the communities around the Kyle of Sutherland. This in turn led to a third edition of the book being professionally edited and including maps, photos and further writing by MacKenzie, who died shortly before the new edition appeared this autumn.

The book has been published by Carn Bren Publishing, which is based in the village of Ardgay, a stone's throw from where MacKenzie's childhood adventures took place.

Where's Home? can be purchased at the Dornoch Bookshop, or through Carn Bren Publishing. It is also available from major online booksellers.