The Granite City of Aberdeen.

The City is proud of being the home to the country’s largest national park, the ‘Cairngorms.’

Aberdeen Harbour.

The harbour busily coping with the supply of services to the oil-rigs out in the North Sea.


Caledonian Forest.

The Motorhomers were at camp just outside of Ballater;

‘Ok, ye two eejit fishermen, off ye go,’ Jessie said. We’ll see ye at tea-time, an’ dinnae come back empty handed,’ she said.

The lads set off:

A mate of Josie who had worked with the forrestry commision had told him of a little lochan on the moor at the top of the hill. He had said that it was boiling with trout. The boys climbed over the dyke and started up the steep hill entering into the forest;

‘How far tae go noo, Josie?’ asked Francie. ‘Och, jist aboot a mile, Francie,’ said Josie.‘Look at the height o’ that hill, Josie. Is that yin o’ yon Munros. Dae ye think I’m some sort o’ mountaineer, Josie?’ asked Francie.An hour later and the lads reached the top dripping with perspiration and muddied from head to toe. They collapsed in a heap beside a boathouse at the edge of a little loch. Complete silence, not a sound, except the sound of nature. A stream was flowing gently and the call of a curlew could be heard in the distance;

‘Who owns this place, Josie?’ asked Francie.

‘I dinnae know, Francie, probably some Duke or other, yin o’ yon people ye see goin’ aboot wi’ a deerstalker on his heid an’ broon leather ridin’ boots, corduroy troosers an’ a short sleeved Fair Isle jumper, wi’ a blunderbuss draped o’er his elbow,’ said Josie.

‘We’ve nae permit, whit if we’re caught, Josie, whit if they dinnae gie us a chance tae surrender, whit if they jist opened up an’ mowed us doon, Josie? I suppose we could say that we werenae fishin’ an’ we arenae really we’re usin’ a bubble float an’ worm, Josie, we’re no’ fly-fishin. We’re actually murderin’ the fish, they dinnae stand a chance. Och, whit if they charged us wi’ murderin’ fish, Josie?’ Francie asked.

‘Och, for goodness sake, Francie,’ said Josie.

‘Whit if some guy comes alang in yin o’ yon giro-copters and machine-guns us doon, Josie?’ asked Francie.

‘Och, for goodness sake, Francie, whit if I crack open a bottle o’ Nookie Broon Ale, Francie?’ asked Josie.

‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ said Francie. ‘A bottle o’ Nookie Broon Ale, Josie, magic,’ he said.

After drinking their beers, Josie threaded a worm onto the hook and expertly cast the bait out into the loch. When he brought the line back in the worm had gone;

‘Can I have a go, Josie, can I have a go?’ asked Francie.

‘Ok, Francie, pal, you have a go,’ answered Josie.

Francie threaded the worm, whirled the bait around his head and cast out. The complete rod left his grasp and landed with a splash, out in the middle of the loch;

‘Och, Francie, noo whit dae we tell the lassies?’ asked Josie.

They arrived back at camp;

‘Here they come, Phemie, like a couple o’ tramps. Well, whit have ye got for us then?’ asked Jessie.

‘We’ve got four lovely fish, an’ a big bag o’ french fries frae the chippy doon in Ballater,’ said Josie.

‘Och, they smell nice,’ said Phemie.

Life’s a Beach at Aberdeen.

Joe Sharp.

If you would like to purchase the adventures of Francie and Josie;

Click here.

Leave a Reply

T:0845 527 3 572
E:[email protected]
EARN: Register | Login
SELL: Register | Login