Hopeman

Chievo supporters’ bus No.3, the unmistakable one with depictions of flying donkeys etched across it, pulls in to a service station south of Turin for a much-needed pit and pizza stop. As we draw up though, it becomes apparent that we are surrounded by legions of equally ravenous Juventus fans. ‘Don’t worry,’ says one of my companions, sensing my apprehension at the growing gathering of Bianconeri shirts on the other side of the window. ‘There will be no trouble.’ Sure enough, the expressions on their faces are, far from anger, ones of utter bemusement. Some offer benign smiles, others wave in a mocking manner. One or two perceptive types raise pointed fingers to their temples to suggest we are in need of getting our heads checked, that we are...

I built a snowman, but I’m not sure what to make of him. You see, he’s not your typical snowman. He’s tall and slim and slightly unnerving. He makes me shudder rather than smile. Plus he’s starting to tilt forward, lending him more menace. My two-year-old daughter quite likes my snowman. She thinks he’s ‘cute’. I think she’s still searching for the right word. Her mother isn’t sure about him. Every now and then she looks out the kitchen window and says ‘oh God’. I posted a picture of my creepy snowman on Facebook and a friend commented that I had created the Marilyn Manson of snowmen. At least he now has a name. We’re getting goth kids knocking at our door wanting to have a look at Marilyn Snowman. But I worry that I might have set the bar...

I’m really fond of this photograph, even more so now my dad’s gone. It’s the three of us – me, my dad and my brother – at the Prieshach in Hopeman on Christmas Day, 2005. My wife took the picture. We’d all gone for a morning walk along the shore until we reached this beautiful golf hole with its frosted green. I suggested we jump and we jumped, my wife capturing the moment forever: The Sutherlands at the Prieshach. Two brothers and their dad, father and sons, reaching for the sky. My brother punching the air, me raising my legs to exaggerate my leap, dad just about achieving lift off. Or perhaps he’d jumped ahead of us and was about to land. In terms of the overall picture, I see all of our lives. It makes me feel happy, sad,...

If you go down to South Queensferry this Friday, you’re in for a big surprise. It’s no teddy bears’ picnic, I can tell you. Stalking the streets from nine in the morning until six at night will be a prickly green giant. A terrifying whisky-guzzling man-plant known as the Burry Man. He’s a hardy native, covered from head to ankle in burrs. Nasty scratchy things, a bit like thistles. Lion rampant around his waist, arms outstretched on two staves, the Burry Man is supported by two friends. When it rains, he weighs a tonne. When the sun shines, he gets way too hot and his helpers try to keep him in the shade. Prop the Burry Man up against a hedge and he blends in. When nature calls, he needs to be cut free, then fixed up again. On he stumbles through the...

Today’s Daily Record carries the new Prince album. I wonder what my dad would have thought of that. Every day he read his Record back to front over breakfast. But Prince? He was never my dad’s cup of tea. I’d drink to Prince any time. My obsession stems from ’88 when my best friend Steve loaned me Lovesexy. I got home, put the record on and my dad picked up the album sleeve. ‘Whit in the name – ?’ Facing him was Prince, naked as the day he was born, reclining on a giant flower. Soon my room was covered in Prince posters, which worried my dad. When I played Prince’s music, I’d this to deal with: ‘See Prince?’ ‘Aye dad.’ ‘If Prince wiz playin in oor back gairden …’ ‘Aye?’ ‘A widna...

I wasn’t there that day but one hot summer afternoon in the mid-80s, David Bowie walked into the Hopeman cafe and ordered a cone. ‘Can I have an ice cream cone,’ he said in a David Bowie voice, for it was him. Whether he asked for a flake or not, I couldn’t tell you. I’m not even sure what flavour he chose. All I know is that David Bowie walked into the Hopeman cafe and ordered a cone. And the girl who served him didn’t realise he was David Bowie. 80s David Bowie. Labyrinth David Bowie. Maybe she thought he was from Forres or something. So what would David Bowie have been doing in Hopeman? Well, his son Zowie went to Gordonstoun, the posh public school a couple of miles away. My brother played against Zowie in a football match between Hopeman and...