Dunnet Head

Dunnet Head was where the Way started.  The owners of the bed and breakfast and tearoom used it as a base for getting things going.

The female of the partnership was an accomplished journalist, having had articles published in Mexico, Spain and Scotland, as well as The Lady magazine in London.

She has written a book, the Battle for Brough Bay and below are the headings:

HOW IT STARTED 

THE ASSOCIATION

 

Land at Brough Bay was donated to the association by Mrs. Munro.  Ian Munro was the first chairman.  The Bay lay in ruins for many years, until the new chairman (the village idiot) and his sidekick, the pretend crofter, realised that the snob was doing very well for the village, setting up an information centre, collecting an archive of books and photos of the Head, making videos and books.

 

 

 

THE NEIGHBOURS FROM HELL

 

It is awful to have bad neighbours, especially ones who use the police and even your MP against you.  You feel powerless.  Both the snob and her long suffering partner had worked in Libya, pretty rough all round, but nothing against the powerlessness and threatening behaviour found in the village.  The snob fought back, as did Factor 3.

 

 

THE SKIRMISH OF THE BARBECUE

 

The snob and her long suffering partner decided that they would have a barbecue and picnic area on their section of the Bay.  The footpath between them and the neighbour had been upgraded as far as the bridge, courtesy of Scottish Natural Heritage.  The rest the dynamic due kept strimmed and in repair as best they could.

 

They were told to remove the barbecue.   They didn’t, so it was smashed up and stolen instead.  The snob reported it to the police.  There was nothing they could do  – or that they wanted to do.  When they were building the barbecue, the pretend crofter came down and told them it was on the association’s land.  The snob told him to go away.  He threatened her – towering over her like man mountain.  Samson and Goliath.  She wouldn’t back down.  The long suffering partner took the shovel from her hand in case she wrapped it round the village idiot’s head.  The long suffering wife of the village idiot asked what she wanted.  The snob said to build a barbecue and have a bench so folk could enjoy a picnic on the beach.  No matter.  The barbecue parts were stolen and the rest wrecked.

THE DAY OF THE FENCE

The day of the fence was a small victory.   The snob and her long suffering partner decided they would make a point.  suits).  Not Mr. Plod but Mr. Policeman.  “You are standing on the lady’s property, sir” he said.  “It’s mine” sulked the village idiot. “The fence belongs to the lady” said the policeman. “I would advise you to get off it.”  The snob smirked. Ah. Yes. A policeman indeed.  The village idiot had no choice but to move.  “Now, sir” said the policeman.  “Go away and stop bothering the lady.  This is a civil matter.  Sort it out in court.”  Result. The police actually doing their job.

 

ENVIRONMENTAL DISASTER – the Scots are good at causing these with the rocket and the NC500.

 

The “boats” stayed on the shore.  Oil  appeared on the beach.  The engine must be leaking.  The snob reported it to the environmental agency.   

THE GRAZINGS SKIRMISH

 

Victory about the Bay.  Then the fools started on the Grazings and pretending that the pretty croft didn’t have grazings and peat cutting rights attached to it.

THE CASE OF THE MOBILE FIELD SHELTER

 

The snob suddenly had an urgent desire to get a field shelter built for her new horse, a lovely grey Andalucian gelding called Freckles.

 

THE GLASWEGIAN FISHERMEN

 

The pretend crofter didn’t live near the snob, but his behaviour was just as threatening.  He came across as a perfect gentleman. He was no such thing.  He was as much a thug as the village idiot was.

THE MATTER OF THE STOLEN SIGNS

 THE DESTRUCTION OF LAND

 MORE VISITS FROM THE LOCAL CONSTABULARY – BORING

 

 

 

 

 

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