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An opportunity for you to share your wonderful stories of times past & present!

What better opportunity than to join Scotland’s Year of Storytelling as part of our Maritime Festival. see more at Scotland's Year of Stories 2022 | VisitScotland

Do you have a story you would like to tell or a poem you would like to share with a Tide & Time theme? Why not share it with us!

Mak me a path o herrin bone

Frae Bonnie Dunbar tae Lauder

An tak me awa frae the salt an the


Tae the soil that’s ower the Border,

Whaur Ah’ll trade siller darlins

fer pennies and farthins

or barter for meal an eggs,

afore turnin fer hame

wi ma back bowed again

an ma creel fair bucklin ma legs

as Ah trawl the Herrin Trail

an Ah trawl the Herrin Trail

waves o heather, nets o whins

sweeten ma Selkie skin

an Ah ken when Ah’m hame

wi ma ain kith an kin

Ah’ll be in great favour again,

fer the change in oor diet

will fair cause a riot

till Ah carry ma lad back tae sea,

haud him high, keep him dry

till the wind blaws strang,

flaps the sheets, fills his sail

an he trawls the Herrin Trail.

Written by Rita Bradd, author of Clipper Ship ‘City of Adelaide’, Beneath the Southern Cross

First published in Eis an Eins (2012)

A truly moving story by Martin Stephen.

‘I was staying with my Scottish family for Christmas. A gale force wind blew on December 23rd, 1971, and as I had done many times before I took my cousins Angus and Davy down to Dunbar harbour to see the waves crashing against the rocks. Davy, aged 11, appears to have been caught by a freak wave. I jumped in — we were being swept out to sea - and held hold of him for several minutes, though I now know he was dead. I was being knocked under by the waves whilst Davy had a puffer jacket that was keeping him afloat. As I got knocked under, I thought it was silly to drag him down with me if he was breathing and pushed him up. When I eventually surfaced Davy had vanished. I swam for several minutes until the cold got me. Angus had kept his wits about him and alerted the lifeboat. They asked David Brunton, a fisherman who happened to be on his boat in the harbour at the time, to join the crew, even though he was not officially a member of the RNLI. The lifeboat caught sight of me face down in the water, and as I started to sink David dived in, caught my hair underwater and helped haul me into the lifeboat. I came to after being injected on the quayside with a drug that has subsequently been banned as it causes brain haemorrhages. The doctor’s subsequent explanation for the injection was, ‘Well, you were dead already, so I couldna kill you twice.’

Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for a friend? No. Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for a complete stranger. As a result of David Brunton’s courage, I have been able to live a brilliant life. Not only that. Because of what David did, my three sons and five grandchildren are living busy and productive lives. David did not just save one life. He saved nine lives. In these appalling times, the fact that one man was willing to risk his own life for a person he had never met reassures me of the immense power for good inherent in people who never hit the headlines or gain celebrity status, but who have so much more courage than many of those who do.’