A Guide to Fife.
Would Fife survive as an independent nation? This ancient Kingdom is surrounded on three sides by deep, sometimes slivery and often murky waters, connected by bridges and potential borders, steeped in a royal history and drunken left wing politics it has all the background and X-Factor. In economic terms it is rich in (well hidden) coal, tourism, has a golfing heritage, petro-chemical processing, remnants of heavy industry, distilling and farming not to mention having its own motor racing circuit and Deep Sea World: Fife has the resources and potential. It could be the Monaco of the North, the San Marino of Caledonia, and the Lichtenstein of the Lomonds or even the Falkland Islands of Falkland. It might just work with a little fortitude, brainwashing, back-stabbing and imagination. What would Mr Ecky Salmond say? “It is quite correct for every region/nation to aspire towards self reliance and self governance!” I think that’s on record as being his own spirited view and of course if all else fails Fife has the Singing Kettle, Burntisland Shipyard, Freuchie and the Fence Collective.
Today at my son’s football match in Glenrothes the referee called for a minutes silence before the game. The two young teams and officials stood in a silent circle on the pitch as the November sun burnt low and bright behind some bare trees, the sun bathed them in a warm glow silhouetting their forms and contrasted with the bitter cold of the North wind. I’m not sure many of the boys grasped the significance of the event or understood the meaning; they all complied however making it a strangely magical and silent moment. I was double minded about pulling out my camera and snapping the event, so strong was the image, in the end however out of respect I decided against it and committed it all to memory. Somehow now, every 11/11 I think of my own father and recall how he always had a tear in his eye during remembrance services. His best friend died on HMS Hood along with hundreds of others and the loss, along with other unspoken war-time memories seemed to haunt him, now it has all been passed over and haunts me in a vicarious way I can’t understand at all.