A Valley Betrayed On 13 February 1692, a narrow Highland glen became the site of an act that would lodge itself in Scottish memory as both atrocity and allegory. Glen Coe’s steep slopes and river-carved floor—landscape and livelihood intertwined—were the stage for a betrayal that fused...
A Candle in Two Kingdoms: Writing on the Anniversary of Mary, Queen of Scots Every anniversary invites a particular kind of listening. Not the loud, modern kind—hot takes and hurried summaries—but the older kind, the way a chapel hears footsteps or the way a river remembers a bridge. When...
How one parish entry moved my ancestor from legend into landscape—and tied her more clearly to the Buchanans of Gartincaber. For years, I carried my understanding of my 7th great‑grandmother, Mary McGregor, the way many families carry the past: as oral history—names spoken across...
We slipped out of Kings House before first light, breath fogging in our headtorch beams while the glen held its breath. The river murmured behind the hotel and the pyramid of the Buachaille was just a darker shape against a thin scatter of stars. Our plan was simple: move quietly along...
For years, our Walker family history rested on scattered records, family stories, and a handful of names passed down through generations. But as anyone who has chased their ancestry knows, paper trails fade, records disappear, and sometimes the truth hides just beyond reach. That’s where...
The History of Hogmanay in Scotland From the end of the 17th century to the 1950’s Christmas was not really celebrated as a festival in Scotland, regarded as a Catholic celebration and banned by the Protestant Kirk for this reason. As a result in Scotland most people worked over...
Internal monologue The only problem with solitude, once you taste its unmatched peace, you crave it endlessly. It’s like solitude spoils you for everything else and you find yourself yearning to be alone again. Being alone never felt right, sometimes if felt good, but it never felt...
When I sit down to a proper Scottish breakfast, it feels like the world finally makes sense. The moment that plate hits the table — the sizzle of the bacon, the earthy smell of the tattie scones, the black pudding with its deep, savoury warmth — I can feel my whole body waking up. There’s...