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The Herald Scotland
7 days ago
- Health
- The Herald Scotland
Want to reduce the campervan menace? Why not enforce the legislation?
I write as a Lowlander who has enjoyed many holidays up north, most recently about this time last year. Staying in a cottage near Gairloch, we observed a good number of sports cars and campervans which were "doing the NC500" and most of the locals we spoke to were less than positive about the benefits of its promotion in recent years. I feel fortunate to have discovered the route long before it was promoted, memorably cycling it just over 25 years ago. Virtually empty single-track roads on a bike are a joy. Should they be replaced by highways able to accommodate the massive campervans we see on our roads today? Introducing a tax to fund improvements and, perhaps dampen demand in the short term, seems perfectly legitimate. Other measures could consider limiting the number or size of such vehicles on some roads, by means of permits for example, although this would entail additional bureaucracy. But enforcement of existing legislation on speeding, overnight stops and waste disposal should be a priority. What is most important to my mind is that greater account needs to be taken of local opinion. Surely solutions can be found to enable visitors to enjoy a wonderful experience while ensuring local communities can thrive. David Bruce, Troon. Read more letters • Watching from our rented accommodation in Scourie in the north-west Highlands, the force of Alan Simpson's argument about the prevalence of motor caravans became clear. I would estimate that at least one-third of the vehicles passing is some species of travelling tent, and that's not including the ones occupying lay-bys. The stories from local people of rubbish (and worse) being dumped are infuriating, and whose heart has not sunk at the sight of one of these ugly vehicles ahead of them on a single-track road, waddling along like a pregnant sow, indifferent to other drivers? Bring in a levy by all means, and make it high enough to make economic sense, but perhaps find a way of redeeming some of the cost in exchange for evidence of use of local shops and other services. Brian Chrystal, Edinburgh. • I refer to, and agree with much of, Alan Simpson's article on the NC500; a tourist tax would generate a fund to improve roads, services and regulation around the route. However, we need to decide who the tourists are: as a taxpayer in Scotland am I paying a share of the existing costs already? Allan McDougall, Neilston. Tobacco ban is wrong I wish to express serious concern that the Scottish Parliament has unanimously consented to the Tobacco and Vapes Bill, which will ban tobacco products for anyone born after January 1, 2009 ("MSPs vote to ban tobacco for young", The Herald, May 30). Quite apart from the questionable democratic legitimacy of such a consensus, this superficially attractive policy represents a disproportionate and dangerous infringement of the civil liberty of adults. While the health risks of tobacco use cannot be denied, and while adults as well as children should continue to be informed about such risks, the Government should not be removing freedom of choice in perpetuity. It is important to realise that the legislation is a form of Prohibition, one which will criminalise not just the chain-smoker but even the occasional user of pipes, cigarettes or cigars. It will lead to absurd, impractical situations such as a 50-year-old person being charged while their 51-year-old partner is let off. Consumption law in Scotland will also become grossly inconsistent, with alcohol and mind-bending drugs being permitted while tobacco, which has no disinhibiting effects, is prohibited. Moreover, it will divert precious police resources away from tackling real crime, including the violent crime which sometimes attends the consumption of drink and drugs. It would be wiser, therefore, to reject this Tory-inspired bill and continue along the current path of education and reasonable regulation. If it is felt that a major political statement on the issue cannot now be avoided, simply raising the age for tobacco purchase to 21 would be much more sensible. (Dr) Alistair Duff, Cumbernauld. Anyone born after January 1, 2009 will be banned from buying tobacco products (Image: Getty) Screen test for Glasgow's Subway For me, the jury is still out on the comfort of the new Glasgow Subway trains except in the matter of the lack of on-train announcements. There are screens on all the coaches, which cycle adverts for SPT social media, but nothing showing the coming station. Occasionally the driver will make announcements, but there's no consistency. Surely it's a very simple exercise in these high-tech trains to programme the screens with the upcoming station name,and also have recorded announcements. Maybe Gayanne Potter would be available ("Artist says voice on trains 'hers'", The Herald, May 30), and she would know how to pronounce Cessnock or Cowcaddens. Stuart Neville, Clydebank. Educating Nigel AJ Clarence (Letters, June 2) remarks on Nigel Farage's likeness to one Joe E Brown. As one of your older readers, I have always thought Mr Farage unnervingly like 1950s ventriloquist dummy, Archie Andrews, in oh so many ways. Rosemary Parker, Troon. The pundit who said too little I despair of the numerous times over the weekend that golf commentator Andrew Coltart found it necessary to inform viewers that Tiger Woods is the only man to have defended at the Memorial (Tournament). I understood that all competing champions were defending their titles. Only Tiger Woods had successfully defended. A rare instance of using too few, rather than too many, words. David Miller, Milngavie.
The National
18-05-2025
- General
- The National
Writings of St Kildan who fought for island's survival revealed
For centuries, this remote cluster of islands in the North Atlantic sustained a hardy population, isolated for most of the year from the Scottish mainland. They lived by bird-catching, sheep-rearing, and weaving tweed – a resilient society shaped by the sea, seabirds and sky. Despite enduring exploitation by absentee landlords, waves of epidemic disease, and tragically high infant mortality, the islanders persisted. Yet after the First World War, modernity began to tighten its grip. Young people left in search of opportunity, and the population dwindled from 80 in 1911 to just 36 by 1930. Those who remained were either too old or too young to carry the community forward. Faced with the impossible, they asked the government for help – and were evacuated to the mainland. READ MORE: Bohdan Tierokhin: Drones, data, and death points are reshaping war in Ukraine The story of St Kilda has loomed large in Scotland's imagination ever since – a haunting emblem of depopulation, the loss of traditional life, and the bittersweet price of progress. It has inspired countless books, songs, and poems. But among the many voices chronicling the island's end, one has long gone unheard – that of Christina MacDonald MacQueen. Born and raised on Hirta, MacQueen left the island in 1909 as a young woman, lured by the bright lights of Glasgow. She traded her father's hand-woven cloth for the fashions of the city and found work as a domestic servant before marrying a Lowlander named Robert Chalmers. Together, they built a life and raised children. But the glitter of the mainland faded over time. Nostalgia set in. And for MacQueen, St Kilda – its sea cliffs, birds, and communal songs – remained vivid in her heart. In late 1929, Christina began writing newspaper articles about her childhood. At the time, there was a mild concern over the island's future, but no clear plan for evacuation. That changed in February 1930, when her sister Mary Gillies suffered complications in pregnancy. The resident nurse, Williamina Barclay, summoned mainland doctors, and Mary was taken to Glasgow. Tragically, she and her baby, Annie, both died on May 26. Earlier that month, prompted in part by Mary's situation, the islanders – urged by Nurse Barclay – had written to the Secretary of State for Scotland, formally requesting assistance to leave. Grieving her sister and fearing for her island's future, Christina continued to write. Her articles, once affectionate reminiscences, became increasingly urgent and impassioned. She lamented the failure of successive governments to support the island and denounced the decision to abandon it. While the remaining residents had asked to leave, MacQueen saw this not as consent but as surrender born of desperation. MacQueen and her brother Donald, by then working in Glasgow shipyards, both asked to join the evacuation ship. They were refused. MacQueen's reply to the authorities is a searing document of heartbreak and defiance: 'I am anxious to tell my people something about mainland life that has not been told them, and further, to appeal to them to make Governments, of whatever colour, do their duty and save the home that was mine and my father's, rather than destroy it. The whole business from start to finish has been the work of despairing Sassenachs.' After the evacuation, MacQueen wrote two final articles. The first described the men's fowling traditions – dangling from cliffs to catch seabirds – and the second paid tribute to Rachel MacCrimmon, an elder whose smoky blackhouse was a centre of storytelling. In that piece, MacQueen imagines herself once again a girl, spinning wool beside Rachel, lost in memory. She had hoped to write a book about St Kilda but never completed it. Perhaps family life intervened – or perhaps the sorrow was simply too deep. READ MORE: Scotland Back in the Day: The high cliffs, deep seas and fathomless mysteries of St Kilda Now, her collected writings have finally been brought together in a single volume, published by Birlinn. MacQueen's work matters for three key reasons. First, it offers a rare, first-hand perspective from a native St Kildan on the island's final days – most other contemporary accounts came from outsiders. Second, her memories provide rich social history of life in the 1890s and 1900s, especially women's work – milking, plucking seabirds, waulking tweed. And third, she was the only St Kildan woman known to have written extensively about her homeland, giving voice to a side of the island's life long overlooked. It is astonishing, given the breadth of literature on St Kilda, that MacQueen's voice has been so neglected. Among her family's papers was a note she wrote in red ink, a quiet manifesto of longing and purpose: 'I have written these articles about far-off lonely Hirta; far away and lonely myself, a stranger in the lowlands, longing always, and dreaming of days and folk that are no more. 'I have written to care my heart and that my children may know and know of the kindly race and distant isle from where their mother came. Never before has a daughter of Hirta written of the island home in an alien tongue. I am in hope that besides my children others may read of these fond memories, of a lonely isle and my people who lived so happy.' MacQueen's story is singular. Yet in many ways, it mirrors the experience of countless others – from islanders to Highlanders, from crofters to country children – who left their homes for the promise of the city, only to be caught between two worlds. Her voice, finally recovered, reminds us all, wherever we come from or end up, what happens when what we once knew is lost.
