Quines, Loons, And Auld Foggies

Keith TMSA time. (Traditional Music and Song Association). Billy and Joy did all the wee niche eastern folk festivals for years. Last year Billy decided to revisit them in memory of his adventures at them with Joy. He managed Portsoy, Stonehaven and Kirriemuir. But Keith TMSA slipped through the net. I said I’d go to Keith with him next year. And suddenly it’s Keith time and the vans not ready!!!

Once the seating arrangements were sorted we tried it out….

Billy had the mail delivered directly to the van to test it for ‘home from home status’.

Everybody agreed that it was very homely indeed. We didn’t know how to tell the dogs that they weren’t invited to the festival. This was a happy moment for them, soon to be torn to shreds by total abandonment.

As the post delivery was Billy’s bank statement he could ascertain how much fish and chips we could afford. Alison’s boyfriend says that Billy has already consumed more than the UK quota of fish this year alone. A couple more can’t do much harm, surely.

Reidhaven Square in Keith. Spotlessly clean and peaceful apart from the fish-eaters.

Billy had told me that we mustn’t be late to the campsite as last in becomes the cabaret entertainment for everyone else so before getting our fish suppers, we’d set up camp.

Billy got his window blackout screens in place while I tackled my tent - having refused a lesson from my husband whom I’d assumed was being a patronising git…..

This was our home for the next 2 nights so, not an official campsite as such but provided all that we needed. Can’t think how everyone had remembered Joy and Billy from 2 years ago when they’d hosted the after party in their camper. How on earth did that happen? Look at the size of the rest of them!!

The site even provided First Responders to the tent erection issues that had developed alarmingly quickly in high winds which I assured my husband (later) were practically a tornado. Camp Commandant Christine and Fiddler Annie were quick to assist when I screamed as the tent almost took off and there was a bit of a ‘snap’ as a tent pole took the hit. Billy had been intent on settling his van into night mode and only heard the scream.

Billy said that this would definitely blow away while we were in the pub so was rattling through his toolbox looking for tape to fix the pole - clearly there was no way I was getting in his van.

But there was someone’s tent in a worse state than mine and he had to sleep in his car all weekend…..

I said to Billy that I wasn’t sure if he was drunk or just……”a bit like me!” Said Billy. But he was worried that if we stepped in the guy would either end up in with me or in with him. Word on the campsite was to leave him to sort it out as he always ended up in his car anyway.

Thankfully he was as much, if not more, the cabaret act as I was.

We celebrated the dropping of the wind with a night in The Ploo. The first bothy ballad we listened to was one of Joys favourites. The Balaena. A Dundee whalers song which Billy said I must know having spent 4 years in Dundee. Nope! Did not listen to whaling songs whilst living the dream as an art student!!

We had a great night - me on the Balvenie dram and Billy on the Virgin Cranberry Vodka, which is served straight, without the vodka.

Next day dawned a bit dreich but I got the morning paper while Billy got the coffee on.

We sat out the rain until Billy got bored and declared he was going to the Railway Club session.

There was no one on the street. They were all in the Railway club. Where I was on Railway Club malt of the month - Glenfiddich (at 2.30pm eek) and Billy was back on the Virgin Cranberry.

Flo, the pub dog, was well loved by everyone. But she had her favourites - especially ones who smelt of sausage dog…..

She launched herself from nowhere straight onto Billy’s lap and I couldn’t save him for laughing - and recording the moment, of course.

We went back to The Ploo for the session there before grabbing some dinner and making our way to the Bowling Club for the big concert. As we wandered past The Royal Hotel, Billy said that he and Joy had eaten there 2 years ago. The food was upstairs and Joy couldnt manage the stairs. So someone gave her a Fireman’s lift. I asked if she squealed and he said “yes - loudly”. And did you laugh? “Yes”. But the assistance she got up those stairs kind of reflects what Keith is about. They call it The Friendly Town and it absolutely is. Full of warmth and friendliness and after one night in The Ploo, we felt we knew everyone. Obviously it’s festival weekend but I’d say you’d get a Fireman’s lift up the stairs any day of the week if you needed it.

The talent was amazing. The celebration of the Scots language - the Doric version - and the love of story telling through music was heartwarming and totally engaging. I felt close to my mum as she would have LOVED it. I remembered how I forgot, that although Joy was very much a Highland girl, she was also a Quine from the east through her father’s side. Her granny was a Berry from a Traveller family north of Montrose and this music and song was part of her DNA.

We walked home at midnight and encountered the local ned in a black Corsa doing fast circuits of the town. I knew the song that was blasting out. One of my ain childhood favourites. Donald Where’s Yer Troosers. How cool was THAT!

The sunshine was back by Sunday morning and Billy was determined to get back to The Ploo and then the outdoor session in Reidhaven square. We parked outside the somewhat dilapidated Commercial Hotel because it was close to The Ploo. We could hear the music emanating from its open door. Outside the Comnercial was Boidie from Peat and Diesel who was having a fly smoke. He’d joined in Jarad Rowan’s session last night and was clearly in recovery.

Billy got out the van and felt dizzy. So he got back in the van and we had to decide if we were being too greedy. The suggestion that, had he collapsed in the street, Boidie was the nearest person to call to arms, and with my penchant for being easily Star struck, and my blog driven obsession, the chances were high that whilst Boidie was saving Billy, I’d be too busy taking selfies of us all…….Well, let’s say it helped Billy to focus on the best option. He’d noted how slow I was to save him from Flo the dog, after all.

We drove off, sad to leave as the Strathisla Pipe Band was tuning up ready to March to the square.

I loved Keith music festival and the amazing community who lives there and travels every year to enjoy and take part. For the last 50 years! I look forward to next year and just need to get a new tent pole. And maybe eat some humble pie and accept a lesson from the husband.

One to watch? Amy Papiransky. Raised in Keith, living in Glasgow. Billy noted that the festival had something for everyone when he, at 90, sat opposite 3 very young woman - old school pals of Amy. She was fantastic.