A is for Amusements

First, you hear it. The crack-crack-crack of metal wheels on a metal track. And the screaming. And the laughing. Then you smell it. A sugary, sweet smell. Mixed with rubber and oil, and, when you get close up, perfume and smoke.

Then you feel it – a rumble under your feet – and taste it: hard caramel, then soft apple. This is what Codona’s, the amusement park at the beach in Aberdeen, is like when you’re 10 years old, or feel 10.

The park opened in the late 1960s and in some ways doesn’t amount to much. There’s a rollercoaster, a few other rides, an indoor shed with dodgems and other machines and amusements. But to Aberdonians, Codona’s is special. We have our own name for the place: the carnies.

It’s called Codona’s officially because it was set up by the Codonas, one of the old fairground families that came to Scotland from Italy in the 19th century and stayed. For a while they toured the country with rides whose names could not be bettered: the Figure Eight, the Dragons, the Galloping Horses and the Wall of Death. Then, in 1969, they won the tender to operate the park at the beach.

The best rides? The Mouse, the rickety, rackety rollercoaster that, for a moment at the top, creates the illusion of hurtling into nothing. And the big wheel, especially in the days where there was only one bar to keep you from falling. And the Scooby Doo ghost train, with the wisps of the unknown that brush your shoulder. I can still hear it. I can still feel it. (Mark Smith)

Architecture

The good news is the past has a future. Rothesay Pavilion is a prime example of 1930s international modernism that was still in use 80 years after it was built. But by the 21st century this sleek vision of contemporary architecture, designed by James Andrew Carrick, was showing its age. In 2010 it was put on the Buildings at Risk register, prompting the establishment of a charity to fund a restoration.

In 2015, after decades of gigs and dances and weddings, the building closed its doors. Since then the interior has been cleared, asbestos has been removed and structural repairs are under way. Come back in 2019 to see an icon of Scotland’s seaside past renewed. (Teddy Jamieson)

B is for Beaches

When Hannah Tofts moved to Scotland seven years ago she never imagined it would set her on a new course: accidental eco-warrior. Soon after arriving in Ardfern, Argyll, Tofts was shocked to discover what she describes as three-metre-high piles of plastic rubbish washed up on the shores of nearby Loch Craignish.

The artist and graphic designer began steadily cleaning the sea loch’s rugged beaches, collecting and cataloguing everything she found, from bottle tops to broken toys.

Tofts, 54, has since amassed thousands of plastic items gathered from the coastline around Scotland seeing it grow into a project she admits has engulfed her life. “I’m a massive collector – the biggest magpie you might find.”

She has used the items to make art, working alongside schools and communities to raise awareness of plastic ocean waste. The United Nations estimates there are 46,000 pieces of waste plastic per square mile of sea.

“Everything that ends up in the sea begins in our homes,” she says. “There were some bad storms the first three years after I moved here so, if I had arrived now, I probably wouldn’t have been quite so aware, but back then there was three metres high of plastic rubbish chucked up on the loch.”

Her latest project – under the banner Let’s Go to the Beach – has seen Tofts create printed cotton sarongs with designs based on the many items she has collected (five per cent of proceeds are donated to a marine conservation charity). She wants to expand into towels, deckchairs, windbreakers, umbrellas and picnic sets.

London-born Tofts spent 14 years in Amsterdam before moving to Scotland. “In a city you always feel other people are responsible, but we all do our own beach cleans here,” she says. “The whole community takes part. You look after your doorstep probably more than people do in the cities.”

Tofts often arrives home to find that someone has left a binbag filled with newly collected beach treasures on her doorstep. “Everyone knows me as the plastic trash queen,” she says, laughing.

The most unusual item Tofts has found was a plastic gherkin. “I love finding plastic buckets and spades, even if they are broken,” she says. “I like texture and colourful shapes, especially anything pink and orange.

“I did find a plastic rose and some plastic holly berries at the end of the peninsula. My brother picked up a plastic bottle that someone had stuffed lots of washed-up strings inside. I thought: ‘Now, there’s a message in a bottle …’”

While Tofts hopes people like her colourful designs, the goal is that the powerful message behind her work will hit home: say no to a plastic sea. (Susan Swarbrick)

Sarongs are available for £30. Visit letsgotothebeach.org

C is for CalMac

Italy has Venice and its gondolas, England has Cambridge and its punts … and Scotland has the western seaboard and its ferries.

The overwhelming majority bear the black, white, red and yellow uniform of Caledonian MacBrayne. While the ferry operator is a source of supreme irritation in some quarters, for the purposes of hymning the delights of Scotland’s coast it can be said without fear that CalMac has an almost religious status.

From short hops – Wemyss Bay to Rothesay, say – longer jaunts such as Uig to Tarbert or the marathon of all CalMac journeys, Oban to Castlebay on Barra, each experience feels like another day lived a little bit better. (Sean Guthrie)

Caravan parks

I didn’t stay in a hotel until I was 21. My childhood holidays were spent in caravans. And the ones near the beach were always the best. I have fond memories of Scarborough, Silloth, Fleetwood and Seton Sands among others, although my favourite was Nairn where you could throw open the caravan door and within a few steps sink your toes into golden sands. Bliss. (SS)

D is for Doon the watter

Time was that high days and holidays saw workers leave behind the daily grind of factories and shipyards to travel by Clyde steamer to resorts such as Helensburgh, Gourock, Largs, Rothesay and Dunoon. This year is the 70th anniversary of the maiden voyage of PS Waverley, the world’s last sea-going paddle steamer, which has sailings throughout July and August. (SS) Visit waverleyexcursions.co.uk

E is for East Neuk

There really is nowhere quite like the East Neuk of Fife. Enjoying a fish supper from the Anstruther chippy on a summer’s evening while watching boats bob in the harbour is one of life’s greatest pleasures.

The fishing villages that comprise the East Neuk – from Crail in the north to Elie in the south, via Cellardyke, the aforementioned “Ainster”, Pittenweem and St Monans – have a charm that has long bewitched visitors from home and abroad. As a child we regularly spent summer holidays there in caravans – and we lived just 10 miles away.

As far as seaside pleasures go, the East Neuk has it all, from beaches and gourmet ice-cream parlours to historic churches and the unique architecture that gives the villages their character. In recent years the area has given itself something of a hip reinvention and it’s a cultural hotspot of international reputation too.

This weekend the East Neuk Festival will be in full swing, bringing together world-class classical, jazz, folk and electronic musicians across a plethora of venues. In early August, meanwhile, the Pittenweem Arts Festival shifts the focus to the visual arts, offering visitors a diverse programme – including villagers opening up their homes as galleries – in the friendliest atmosphere you could imagine.

Even if you know the East Neuk well, a visit will uncover something new. (Marianne Taylor)

F is for fish and chips, reinvented

Fish and chips is a seaside staple, but a restaurant in Ayr is transforming the way people think about the traditional tea. Craft beers, pickled veg, gluten-free options and tablet cheesecake are on the menu at Craft and Harbour on Crown Street.

Co-owner and executive chef Jamie Smith explains the blend of nostalgia and innovation behind the restaurant, which is recognisable because of its colourful exterior mural. “I used to visit my grandparents in Ayr and we would always get fish and chips as a treat, as well as ice-cream and sweets in a jar,” he says. “As a kid, it was my favourite place to be.

“When I grew up and could finally return the treat by taking my grandparents out for dinner, it always amused me that no matter where we went, my gran would always order fish and chips.”

He adds: “I wanted our restaurant to embrace all of this nostalgia, but with a contemporary twist. We have some of the best access to fresh seafood in the world – the furthest we can ever be from the sea in Scotland is 50 miles. The renaissance and reinvention of the traditional fish and chip shop is about people embracing fresh produce and remembering their own nostalgic seaside experiences.” (Ann Fotheringham)

G is for Golf

Its appeal is incomprehensible to many, but for those nibbled by the bug the game of golf is never better than when played within sclaffing distance of the briny. To this lifelong golfer’s mind there’s barely a coastal layout that doesn’t merit revisiting, though the repurposed airfield that is Benbecula Golf Club does spring to mind (“spring” being an appropriate word – the fairways are laid on top of tarmac and thus your ball can take an age to come to a rest).

Perhaps it’s the sandy soil. Maybe it’s the surplus of oxygen. Or perhaps it’s the lullaby of the restless ocean. Whatever the reason, golf by the sea is the pinnacle of the game, where it feels like home, where – for the most part – you needn’t buy into the game’s conservative traditions. On the coast and nowhere else will you find the soul of golf.

For evidence see the following, in no particular order: Machrihanish; Moray; Gullane; Southerness; Carnoustie; West Kilbride; Castle Stuart; Shiskine; Askernish; Dunaverty; Portpatrick; Balcomie; Aberdour; Harris; Machrie; Prestwick; Winterfield; St Andrews; Nairn; Cruden Bay. As with all good things, you always remember the first time. Mine was Whiting Bay on Arran. And yours? (SG)

H is for Harris

It is the nearest my children have come to looking like those outdoorsy youngsters from a Boden clothing catalogue: the ones who are always pictured building a bonfire or tree house while looking lovingly dishevelled in expensive body warmers, stripy tights and cute woollen hats.

We are on the beach at Hushinish in Harris which is at the end of twisty 12-mile singletrack road, which guarantees it’s never going to be hoaching with tourists. In fact, on this sunny spring weeknight, we are the only people on the white sands with nothing between us and Canada.

I’ve got a bottle of stout from the Hebridean Brewing Company chilling in a rock pool and the barbecue is catching nicely, while the three youngsters – aged between 10 and 15 – run back and forward into the sea getting the bottoms of their trousers wet and sticky and sandy but that’s OK, because this is a moment I want to remember for ever. (Garry Scott)

I is for Inversnecky

Come away in to the Inversnecky on the beachfront in Aberdeen. What would you like? How about a plate of chips? Nothing fancy, just big, salty chips with a view of the sea, and washed down, if you know what’s good for you, with waves of their milky tea. Or one of their milkshakes: garish, bright, brilliant. And do not leave without trying the knickerbocker glories that have been towering over small, excited children for 50 years. If that’s too much for you, try a cone with white, whippy ice-cream to enjoy on the way home. (MS)

J is for Jellyfish

“Watch out for jellyfish!” came the cry of many a Scottish mammy, striking fear into the hearts of her offspring. Yet despite their apparent danger these alien-like blobs held a tantalising allure and fascination.

I remember as a youngster finding a lion’s mane jellyfish that looked like a squashed, undercooked pizza. Thankfully my father clocked me just in time as I stood poised, ready to cut it up into tasty slices.

What does it feel like to be stung by one of these creatures? Reports range from being similar to nettle rash to having an electric shot. Which is still less painful than being clipped round the ear for chasing your brother with a jellyfish on a stick. (SS)

K is for Kiss-me-quick hats

Has anyone ever worn a kiss-me-quick hat? Certainly nobody in The Herald Magazine team is admitting to that particular sartorial life choice. To be fair, we’re probably more the socks-and-sandals-meets-knotted-hankies kind of gang. (SS)

L is for Largs

For all the tat and ephemera you’ll find clustered around the pier, from which you cross the Firth of Clyde to Cumbrae, the Ayrshire town of Largs has much to recommend it to the daytripper. None of it involves sitting on your backside.

For those with a thirst for sport a range of activities take place at Inverclyde sports centre at the back of the town and Vikingar on the seafront, plus there are tennis courts, a swanky marina (voted the best in the UK this year), an 18-hole golf course at each end of the town – the slightly sniffy Largs GC in the south and council-run Routenburn in the north (see G is for golf) – and more than a few bowling clubs.

If road cycling’s your thing then a semi-secret route takes you north from the town up the ultra-quiet Brisbane Glen road to Loch Thom. From here you can either reverse your outward journey, carry on to Greenock or compromise with a descent to Inverkip before braving the fairly busy A78 back to Largs.

But if cardio isn’t your bag then you can savour the town’s unarguable highlight at a gentler pace: the promenade (see P below).

Stretching from Noddsdale Water in the north to Largs Yacht Haven in the south, this ribbon of smooth asphalt gives you a supreme vantage point from which to people-watch and take in the views over to Arran, Bute and Cumbrae while inhaling some of the richest air in the land. Extra points if you’ve got a dog … (SG)

Lilos

These days inflatables come shaped as everything from flamingos to pizzas, but most of us associate the word lilo with a squeaky plastic mattress as narrow as a prison bunk (and arguably about as comfortable).

Blowing into the damned thing required the lung capacity and stamina of an elite marathon runner. Several hours later, when it was finally full of air, the business of relaxing could at last begin.

Well, until your mother started shouting to get out of the sea for fear you would fall asleep and drift into the abyss, never to be seen again. Good times. (SS)

M is for mermaids and sea monsters

“If you see something that looks like a mermaid, how do you know it’s not just a regular human? I’m not quite sure because they don’t say ‘we saw the tail’ which would be the thing you really need to know.”

Sitting on the west strand at St Andrews, Charles Paxton is talking sea monsters and mermaids and the challenges they offer to scientists. He may work at the town’s university as a statistical ecologist in the maths department, but by training he’s a zoologist and he is fascinated by the lore of the deep.

“I like to do hard statistics on what people report about monsters. There are lots of questions you can ask which you can turn into statistics. There may be underlying biology behind some reports of mermaids which we can investigate statistically. This is a hypothesis that I and some colleagues are working on to do with mermaid stories.

“What’s reported is not consistent. So that in itself can be interesting scientifically – to try to work out what people are reporting. And could that relate to particular animals or particular tidal phenomena?”

Is Scotland particularly good for mermaid sightings? “It is. Not just mermaids. All sorts of mer beings. A sea monk – imagine a mermaid but the top half isn’t a beautiful maiden, it’s a monk with a tonsure – was reported to have been seen in the Firth of Forth in 878AD.

"We had a sea giantess reported somewhere in Scotland according to the Irish Annals in the period 1661-1667AD. A little baby mermaid was found in Benbecula in 1830 and was buried.”

But he doesn’t believe in mermaids, does he?

“No,” he says. “Well let me qualify that. I don’t believe they exist as objectively real things. That doesn’t necessarily mean that

I think all the witnesses are liars. I think they can be sincere, but they’re probably mistaken. Mermaids exist as a reported phenomena. But do they objectively exist? No, as a scientist that would be a hypothesis of last resort.”

Paxton, who grew up an army brat in England, was obsessed with giant squids when he was a child. And, he says, that fascination with the natural world is in everyone.

“All of us like the idea of mystery and awe. We all have it, right? There is this idea of ‘the other’. We can see the sea right now and we can’t see what’s underneath it and in some ways that’s disappointing and in other ways that’s cool because there is all this stuff out there and we don’t know. Presumably there’s something out there right now swimming around that is fairly interesting. I like my mysteries and I think that’s a great part of it.”

The temptation to go out and look for sea monsters is, however, not something that’s going to tempt him onto the open seas any time soon.

“I suffer from seasickness. You have an image of marine biologists as being these Aran sweater-clad muscular types on boats but I’m the wimpier sort that stays in front of my computer.” (TJ)

An exhibition, Sea Monsters: Myths, Legends and True Stories, is currently on at the HMS Unicorn in Dundee until October 3

N is for North Berwick

Because we like to pop into JP’s Deli, home to chef John Paul McLachlan, who has worked with Raymond Blanc and Gordon Ramsay. Now he’s doing pop-up restaurant experiences on Saturday nights. (TJ)

O is for open-air pools

There was a time when open-air swimming pools were all the rage. In the 1930s, before the rise of overseas holidays, lidos were hugely popular, even in Scotland (where they were often heated, unsurprisingly).

Now just two remain – at Gourock and Stonehaven, although plans are afoot to restore Tarlair pool in Banff.

Both Gourock and Stonehaven are focal points of the summer, with programmes of events and fascinating histories. Stonehaven, for example, was used during the Second World War to provide recreation and showers for troops and for a few seasons the pool was filled with fresh water because of problems with the sea inlet. However seawater was in use again for 1982, and has been used ever since.

Gourock is the oldest heated outdoor pool in Scotland, and recently benefitted from a £1.8 million renovation. (AF)

P is for Portobello

Crime writer Doug Johnstone on his hometown: “Portobello beach is just about my favourite place in the world. I moved to Porty 14 years ago and it’s the best move I ever made. The large expanse of sandy beach this close to Scotland’s capital is unique, and I love the way the nature of the beach changes with the seasons. In summer it can be hoaching on hot days, with kids swimming, barbecues, beach volleyball and all the rest. But I like it even more in winter, when it’s bleak and barren, the wind whipping off the firth into your face.

“I’ve written two novels set in Portobello and several short stories. It’s such an atmospheric place. And the views out over the Forth are amazing, over to Fife in one direction, all the way to Berwick Law in the other. It’s mad to think that past that opening in the water, the next stop is Norway. There’s a real sense of community in Portobello too, centred around the beach. It gets used for all sorts of events, from the loony dook on New Year’s Day to fireworks displays, weddings, all sorts. A lot of artists and creative types end up here, and it’s easy to see why. I can’t recommend the place highly enough.”

Doug Johnstone’s latest novel Crash Land is now out in Faber paperback, priced £7.99

Promenade

Is there a more wonderful word, one that is sublime in both noun and verb form? Beloved favourites include Ayr, Largs, Leven and Portobello (see above). (SS)

Q is for quirky

Scotland’s coastline is full of quirky places. For example, Millport is home to Britain’s smallest cathedral. Built in 1851 and planned as a theological college for the Scottish Episcopal Church, in its early days it was seen as a “new” Iona, and in 1876 it was consecrated Cathedral of the Isles.

In Fairlie, along the coast from Largs, there is a castle covered in graffiti. Kelburn Castle caused a stir when it brought four of the world’s leading graffiti artists from Brazil to work alongside Scottish talent on the colourful exterior wall design. In 2011, the mural was named as one of the world’s top 10 examples of street art – on a par with Banksy’s work in Los Angeles.

The “bridge to nowhere” on the beach at Belhaven Bay near Dunbar is worth a visit to marvel at its apparent pointlessness. It crosses the Biel Water, a small river which, just before it reaches the North Sea, flows under a short footbridge. At low tide, it’s possible to walk over the bridge, crossing the stream and on to the beach beyond – but when the tide comes in, the bridge gets submerged and gives the curious impression it is stranded in the middle of the water. (AF)

R is for rock pools

Guddling in rock pools is a childhood staple. Dunure and Portencross, both in Ayrshire, and Crail Roome Bay in Fife offer top notch rock-pooling fun where you can spot the likes of whelks, limpets, crabs, starfish and sea anemone. (SS)

S is for sauce

Female security guard to Scotsman as she lifts his kilt: “Just looking for concealed weapons, sir!”

Was it the internet or relaxed social and sexual mores that killed off the saucy seaside postcard? A combination of both probably. But in their heyday (the 1930s when 16 million were sold each year) they were a staple of the seaside holiday.

The master was Donald McGill, whose postcard designs sold more than 200 million copies. McGill was a well-dressed, upright pillar of the community with an eye for the double entendre. And, yes, Scots in kilts would often feature: “I thought he was nursing a pussy cat – and I stroked his sporran!!”

George Orwell was moved to write an essay on McGill: “The postcards represent the worm’s-eye view of life where marriage is a dirty joke or a comic disaster ... where the lawyer is always a crook and the Scotsman always a miser, where the newly-weds make fools of themselves on the hideous beds of seaside lodging-houses and the drunken, red-nosed husbands roll home at four in the morning to meet the linen-nightgowned wives who wait for them behind the front door, poker in hand.”

Charged with breaching the Obscene Publications Act in 1954, McGill died in 1962. His estate was worth just £735. No royalties, you see. (TJ)

Surfing

Lisa Monteith is an instructor with Dunbar-based Coast to Coast Surf School. Here she talks about what makes Scotland’s coasts and beaches so great for surfing:

"Scotland is truly a stunning place to surf. We have three amazing coastlines: the west with stunning white beaches and wonderful islands; the north with world-class waves and reefs; and the east with culture, castles and a really varied coastline of estuaries, beaches and reefs.

"Mix that with some unbelievable scenery and empty waves, you can’t beat it. The coastline is so varied here that surfers can enjoy waves for all levels."

What spots would you recommend?

"Belhaven Beach near Dunbar is a great one for beginners. It’s a super-friendly wave and a great place to meet other surfers. The north coast has some amazing spots from the world-class advanced waves around Thurso to the beautiful beaches in the north-west."

How can beginners get involved?

"The best thing is to take a lesson. It’s important to learn the basics of water safety and the right technique and etiquette. After that, it’s all about time spent in the water and getting hooked on the sport."

Do you see interesting wildlife?

"We see seals on a regular basis. They are super inquisitive and always come up to say hello. We also get dolphins. Occasionally we will get fish jumping, sometimes even on to your board."

What are the biggest misconceptions?

"A lot of people think we’re mad to go in the water here because it’s so cold but with the advances in wetsuit technology we’re warm all year round. People think it’ll be dead easy, too, but in reality it takes a lot of hard work to make it look that easy.

It’s also great for your physical and mental health, you discover muscles you didn’t know you had and it provides a chance to unwind and forget the day-to-day stuff that’s been bothering you."

If you could surf anywhere in Scotland where would it be and why?

"On a west-coast Scottish island beach with a group of friends at sunset, perfect waves and nice warm wind." (SS)

Lessons with Coast to Coast start at £35 for adults and £30 for juniors for a two-hour session including equipment. Visit c2csurfschool.com

T is for tan lines

Scots and sunshine can be a perilous mix. One minute you’re soaking up the warm rays, the next you’re screaming at a reflection in the mirror where it would appear your face has been swapped with a well-skelped backside.

Common errors include elaborate straps on swimwear/sandals that leave you resembling a wonky wallpaper design and the inverse racoon look with a stark white band across the eyes courtesy of oversized sunglasses. (SS)

U is for undressing

In Scotland we’re not exactly dab hands at getting undressed for all the world to see. For the most part we tend to present our “beach bodies” wrapped from head to toe in anything from a full winter wet suit (even in summer) to scarves and woolly hats. But there are days when Scotland’s flesh comes out in all its wonder, when the temperatures soar and there’s nothing for it other than taps aff.

The taps-aff Scottish beach is chiefly likely to offer one of two sights: peely-wally creatures that look as if they have squirmed up from the underworld in order to dance for a brief moment in the sun, and overenthusiastic lobsters.

Many of the latter clearly have been so desperate to get out in the sun – which, after all, could be gone by the time they hit the beach – that they couldn’t bear to waste the few minutes it would take to get to the shops and buy the factor 80 that would be required to shield their skin from the shock.

Others seem, in spite of all the cancer warnings, to actually want to bring on an excruciating burn (see T is tan lines) just to show how truly Scottish they are. (Vicky Allan)

V is for vitamin D

Nine out of 10 office workers struggle to get enough vitamin D because they spend too much time indoors, according to a recent study by the University of Alberta in Canada.

While you can also get vitamin D from eating oily fish, red meat, liver and eggs, sunshine is by far the most important source. A deficiency in vitamin D can lead to fragile bones and weak muscles.

Just be careful not to overdo things in the sun (see T is for tan lines). You have been warned. (SS)

W is for windbreakers

Many a summer afternoon has been spent huddling behind a windbreaker as a gale blew off the North Sea. They also double as an excellent changing room. Is there a better seaside invention? (SS)

X is for ex-harbour

There is a legend, or at least there should be, that nobody knows how many steps there are at Whaligoe harbour. It could be anything between 330 and 360 but however many times you count them, the result is always different.

That’s the kind of place this ex-harbour on the east coast of Caithness is: some people who visit it feel the doom of the place – that rusting winch, the staircase to nowhere – others its beauty, but most feel the crackle of sorcery, or devilry.

We know it was probably a harbour from the end of the 18th century and that the last few ships stopped fishing here in the 1960s, but, abandoned for decades, it’s now one of the most remarkable, powerful and disturbing places on the Scottish coastline.

Don’t believe me? Try to count the steps. (MS)

Y is for Yorkston, James

When he’s not being a novelist or a member of improv trio Yorkston Thorne Khan, Fifer James Yorkston is one of Scotland’s finest singer-songwriters. He made his name as part of the East Neuk’s Fence Collective which was also home to King Creosote and Pictish Trail in the early years of the century. Here he talks about growing up at the seaside and the influence it has had.

“We moved to Kingsbarns in 1973, I think. We’d been in Cupar before then. This is the only place I’ve known really. I left in 1988 and moved to Edinburgh, which was amazing at the time. I spent 18 years in Edinburgh, which I remember thinking meant I had lived in the city longer than I had lived in the country and it was really hanging over me.

“We lived in the New Town and you could look over to Fife and I felt like there was a pull bringing me back home. When we moved back that weight just lifted. So I’ve been back ever since. I’m not so sure that was so much the sea as the peace and the quiet and the air.

“I remember when the Fence thing was happening there were loads of interviews and a common question I was asked was: ‘Do you think the landscape affects the music or the lyrics?’ And I always used to say: ‘No, of course not. It’s all about the heart and the emotion.’

“But recently I’ve come to believe that it absolutely does affect it. I’ve written three books. Two have been published and when you start writing more prose the rhythm of it all became very apparent and one picks up the rhythm from wherever one is.

“The rhythm is affected by the rhythm of the lifestyle and the tides and the weather and the openness of the land. One brings in words and scenery and actual places from where one lives and for me this is here.

“When you can relax into songwriting, which you can in an area like this – I’m 30 yards from the beach; if I’m lucky I’m on the beach every day – it puts you in a completely different mindset than when you’re on the tube.

“Using electronic devilment, I’ve sampled the sea and the waves breaking on plenty of occasions. My favourite sound though is when the wind is up and blowing through the harbour, rattling the rigging and whirring the anemometers.

“It’s a hugely powerful thing, the sea. The depth and the cold of the water. This massive, massive hunk of water. It’s a hugely powerful force of nature. Anything that can make one realise how delicate life is and how short life is, that can put things in perspective, is a good thing and again the size of the sea, the power of the sea, it all brings that to mind. Because these rocks are going to be there long after we’re gone. Only the rocks are for ever.” (TJ)

Yorkston Thorne Khan play the Weave Festival, Paisley, tomorrow, the Hug and Pint, Glasgow, on Monday, Aberdeen’s Lemon Tree on Tuesday and Edinburgh’s Summerhall on Wednesday

Z is for zzz

The sun is shining, you let that paperback fall from your hand and you drift off to the soundtrack of seagulls. We’ll wake you before we go ... (TJ)