
Dugald Bruce Lockhart: 10 things that changed my life
DESPITE spending the first four years of my life in Fiji, my earliest memory is sitting in the hull of a rowing boat, fitted with an outboard motor, as we set off from the village of Strontian across the wind-whipped waters of Loch Sunart, terrified the boat would sink.
Having made it to an island, picnicked, and not sunk, I was charged with newfound confidence for our return journey.
Peering over the gunwale, staring into the low-lying sun, I repeatedly sang the chorus of Kumbaya, My Lord, marvelling at how the tune fitted the scenic backdrop.
Thus was born my desire to impose narratives on the world about me; which, in turn, led to playing guitar, acting, and eventually, writing my first novel.
It was also where I first tasted a lime-flavoured popsicle; which to a four-year-old, fresh from the Pacific Islands, was almost as weighty a game changer!
(Image: PA/Alamy)
Two: My first fishing rod
A FOUR-FOOT-LONG, fibreglass fishing rod, that had been given to me by 'Dear'', my formidable great-grandmother, (real name, Mona), wife of J H Bruce Lockhart, former Scottish international cricket and rugby player.
In a Highland burn, I caught my first trout, a whopper, at least five inches!
This triggered a passion for fishing that continues to afflict me; casting my line over rivers far and wide, as well as providing the subject for my first short story – Salar The Salmon – which I wrote at the age of nine; about a salmon who struggles to find her way back to the stream where she was born.
Even now, I'm unable to cross a bridge without stopping to check if I can spot that elusive, wavering shadow lying in the current below.
And wondering how much it weighs.
Three: February 22nd 1991
THE day I received a phone call at our home in London, to say I'd got in to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art – despite the fact I'd been drunk at my recall (thanks to a four-pint liquid lunch, to quell the nerves); that I'd given my Shakespeare monologue as Sean Connery (they stopped me after my first line), and had lied about all the other drama schools to which I'd applied.
With no one else around to celebrate the news, I drank a glass of orange juice and explained to our pet African Grey parrot, Coco, how I was going to be a famous actor.
Coco remained predictably implacable, looked me in the eye, then shat on the newspaper bedding at the bottom of his cage.
My first of many critics.
Four: My Yamaha acoustic guitar
I BOUGHT it in Tokyo, while touring with the Royal Shakespeare Company. After an all-nighter in the district of Roppongi, a combination of hangover and jetlag caused a five-day bout of insomnia, resulting in a breakdown – along with the realisation I had to call off my engagement to my fiancée back home.
Unable to think straight, let alone utter a sentence of Shakespearean verse, I was taken off the show to recover, only venturing from my 17th-floor hotel room to stumble across the square to the music store opposite, where I parted with the equivalent of £200 to buy the instrument.
I continued to write songs for the remainder of that 12-month tour, and on, for the next 20 years; including one titled Wedding Train – which I now realise was an ode to my guitar – about the comfort of strumming her dependable six strings, and how she had carried me through my hour of need.
Five: My pet lizard
I HAD caught it in the wastelands outside our house in Cyprus in 1978. Hoping the creature might join the family, I gave him first a name, then set up home in our open-roofed inner courtyard, where there was a hole in the tiles.
Using a rock to provide cover, I brought him flies and worms, and he soon became accustomed to his new dwelling.
Then one day, I introduced him to some school friends. After much oohing and ahh-ing, we left him to his own devices – me quickly dropping the rock back into place, as we hurried out. When I returned to the courtyard that evening, I found him to be unusually still. He was lying at an angle that didn't make sense – his jaw, squashed and out of line. But still alive.
In a panic, I took him outside and dropped him over the garden fence into the scrub below – lying to myself that he'd be better off fending for himself.
My first encounter with true guilt; which, 50 years on, continues to haunt me.
I hope one day to be able recall the poor creature's name.
(Image: PA/Alamy)
Six: The Diorama building in London
THE soulless building in central London was where, as an out-of-work actor, I had to trek from my flat in Harlesden in order to take part in a group selection process for a corporate roleplay company based in Bristol.
My spirits lightened when an extremely attractive brunette in a slim-fit suit passed me in the doorway, asking if she was in the right place. The building took on a greater shine, when it transpired she and I were both familiar with Southwold and that we both knew a certain actor – with whom she had read to stroke patients, and with whom I had toured the world for 10 years.
A month later, I emailed him to ask about the status of a certain Penny, whom I'd met at Diorama. He replied that she was 'unattached', and would I like her number?
Staring at a family photograph of myself, Penny, Mackenzie and Cassidy, posing in the grounds of a hotel in Gran Canaria, this spring, I recall that it had been raining the day of the interview, and that I'd hesitated in the hallway of my flat, wondering if I could really be bothered to schlepp across town in the pissing rain, for a job I was unlikely to get, and which I didn't really want in the first place.
Seven: My children
TO splash with them, one on each arm, in a tiny paddling pool in the garden, lost in their joy and wonder, and gap-toothed grins.
Watching them grow, hearing them laugh.
Sharing their daily tragedies.
To know you are not only perpetuating the circle of life, but that your navel-gazing days are over.
And that you are finally at one with unconditional love.
Eight: Propeller Theatre Company
WHEN in the autumn of 1998, I joined Edward Hall's all-male Shakespeare company, I had no idea that this would begin 15 years of international touring with a group of actors that would become tantamount to a second family.
True, each 10-to-12-month tour was as akin to a 12-month stag do, as it was to spreading the joy of Shakespeare's plays; and yet, it was with Propeller that I truly learnt the craft of storytelling, and how performing is really more of a sport than any kind of mysterious art form.
From climbing the pyramids in Mexico City at dawn, to performing The Comedy Of Errors in Sri Lanka, watched by a group of wild monkeys that had climbed in through the windows, it was also my own Homeric journey of self-discovery, and the birth of lifelong friendships. Halcyon days, I shall never forget.
Nine: Across The Universe
WHENEVER I hear John Lennon's masterpiece, I am transported back to my parent's house in Greenwich, where I sat on the drawing room floor, in diffused sunlight, listening to the song unfold for the first time.
I smell chocolates, pipe smoke, old books, coffee and toast; the musty aroma of our dog, Poggy, curled up in his basket, tucked away in the corner by the piano; the muffled chatter of the BBC's World Service from the kitchen, and the cloying scent of linseed oil from my newly acquired Gray-Nicolls cricket bat leaning against the wall behind the front door.
Everlasting peace, frozen in three minutes and 47 seconds.
(Image:)
10: Passing my driving test
MY first attempt (in Dundee, while a student at St Andrews University) went rather well, I thought. Having pulled up by the side of the road, the examiner asked me how many lessons I'd taken. Understanding him to be thoroughly impressed, I proudly confessed I'd only had five. He smiled and informed me I'd be taking a few more.
My second attempt ended up with the same result. (What you don't do, if a suitcase comes off your roof rack, is wait for a pause in the traffic then run out and grab it).
The day I finally passed, I'd wrenched my back and had sat stiffly in the driver's seat with a brace on my neck, stinking of Deep Heat, barely able to look left or right, let alone turn to face my nonplussed examiner.
How she let me sit next to her, let alone pass me, I have no idea. But I'm eternally grateful.
How my life would have unfolded without the freedom of wheels, I can't imagine.
Second Skin, a thriller set in the Greek Islands by Dugald Bruce Lockhart is published by Muswell Press
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


North Wales Chronicle
44 minutes ago
- North Wales Chronicle
TV couple Cat Deeley and Patrick Kielty announce separation
They wed in September 2012 in Rome and have two children together. They said in a joint statement to the PA news agency: 'We have taken the decision to end our marriage and are now separated. There is no other party involved. 'We will continue to be united as loving parents to our children and would therefore kindly ask for our family privacy to be respected. 'There will be no further comment.' Deeley, 48, has presented ITV's This Morning alongside Ben Shephard since early last year, and previously lived in Los Angeles for more than 10 years. She hosted the US series So You Think You Can Dance and appeared on SM:TV Live with Ant McPartlin and Declan Donnelly from 1998 to 2002. She co-hosted BBC singing contest Fame Academy, alongside Kielty, and took over ITV's Stars In Their Eyes from Matthew Kelly. Northern Irish presenter Kielty, 54, is the host of RTE talk show The Late Late Show, having taken over from Ryan Tubridy in 2023. He made his feature film debut the year prior when he starred as a budding comedian going through a marriage break-up in Ballywalter, a movie that takes its title from the Northern Irish town in County Down. The comedian and presenter began his stand-up career as host of Northern Ireland's first comedy club, The Empire Laughs Back, in pre-ceasefire Belfast and graduated to presenting programmes such as Channel 4's Last Chance Lottery and BBC One chat show Patrick Kielty Almost Live. He also presented the documentary My Dad, The Peace Deal And Me, about his father's death at the hands of paramilitary gunmen. Kielty and Deeley's first child, a son called Milo, was born in 2016 and their second son, James, was born in 2018.


Daily Record
44 minutes ago
- Daily Record
Uddingston hairdresser nominated for Scottish title
Diana Carson of Rainbow Room International is in the running at the prestigious British hairdressing awards ceremony in November An Uddingston hairdresser is celebrating after being named as a finalist at the prestigious British hairdressing awards. Diana Carson, creative director of Rainbow Room on Main Street, has been nominated in the Scottish hairdresser of the year category for November's glittering industry ceremony in London. She earned the accolade after impressing experts at the first round of judging, and says it is 'such an honour' to be nominated for the national title; while the company's international artistic team of which she is a key member has also earned a nomination at the awards. Diana stood out from competitors from across the country in the first round of judging at Epsom Downs racecourse, where an expert panel reviewed hundreds of collections with a high standard of entries submitted. The talented hairdresser impressed with her 'exceptional creativity, technical skill and artistic flair' – and will now submit a further four images of her work for a second round of judging in September, when the winners will be decided before being crowned later in the year at the awards ceremony. She said: 'It's such an honour to be named a finalist at the British hairdressing awards and I couldn't be prouder to represent Scotland. 'This recognition means the world to me and I'm constantly striving to push boundaries, stay inspired, and bring something fresh to our clients and the wider industry. To have my work recognised on this scale is incredibly rewarding, and we can't wait for the awards night!' Senior stylist Diana began her career with Rainbow Room International at a young age, training with the group and progressing up the ranks to her current creative director role; as well as holding a senior position in the firm's award-nominated artistic team which focuses on creative hair design and styling. Her work such as the 'intention collection' are described as emphasising 'authenticity and raw texture [and] showcasing her signature cutting techniques'; and she has twice been nominated for the Scottish hairdresser of the year awards and travels the world sharing her high-demand work at shows and seminars. She also recently joined colleagues in running the popular backstage salon at the TRNSMT festival in Glasgow, styling star performers and their teams ahead of taking to the stage for their sets. Rainbow Room say: 'Diana is one of the busiest senior stylists in the group and holds a top-level position in the art team; her knowledge and expertise now see her teaching and coaching in both the salon and the Rainbow Room International academy. 'As a qualified educator, Diana plays a pivotal role in mentoring emerging talent at both the academy and within the salon environment.' The annual British hairdressing awards are described as 'one of the most respected and celebrated events in the global calendar' and are run by Hairdressers Journal International. Executive director Jayne Lewis-Orr said: 'Every year, we're blown away by the level of talent on display. These artists set the standard and inspire thousands — their vision helps shape the future of hairdressing, both in the UK and around the world.' * Don't miss the latest headlines from around Lanarkshire. Sign up to our newsletters here.


Scotsman
an hour ago
- Scotsman
The Man on the Endless Stair by Chris Barkley review: 'an ambitious first novel'
Sign up to our Arts and Culture newsletter, get the latest news and reviews from our specialist arts writers Sign up Thank you for signing up! Did you know with a Digital Subscription to The Scotsman, you can get unlimited access to the website including our premium content, as well as benefiting from fewer ads, loyalty rewards and much more. Learn More Sorry, there seem to be some issues. Please try again later. Submitting... This is a first novel, and an ambitious one. This means that one should treat it carefully, indeed gently, neither hailing it as a masterpiece (which very few novels are) or condemning it as pretentious and confused. In truth, it's a mixture, now compelling, now irritating. Chris Barkley The publishers describe it as 'Agatha Christie meets Italo Calvino' – certainly an attractive idea. Still, the detective side of the novel lacks Christie's ruthless morality, while the Calvino side doesn't quite achieve the Italian novelist's ability to make the fantastical appear as natural as our home town. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad However, the somewhat extravagant comparison does say something about the novel. It is set on a Scottish island, murders take place while there is no communication with the mainland, and there is fantasy presented as realism. The novel is set a few years after the end of the Second World War. Euan, a veteran of the Normandy Campaign and now an aspiring Scottish novelist, has caught the attention of Malcolm Furnivall, a successful author of highbrow crime novels. (They sound like the sort of thing that CS Lewis's friend Charles Williams used to write.) Euan has written an article about Malcolm in Cyril Connolly's magazine, Horizon. All this is excellent fooling and agreeably done, even if Malcolm is an absurd and unconvincing character. The same may be said of his island, where he has built a mansion, already falling into disrepair; his books are written in a 'writing shed' in the grounds. Fair enough, though the shed with its tunnels in the basement is not very convincing. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad Malcolm, finding his powers failing, drenched in whisky too, is seemingly stuck on what should be the final volume of what sounds like a sadly pretentious sequence, and so he invites Euan to the island, where he will be, as it were, consecrated as his heir. Malcolm has a son and daughter, also a wife and various hangers-on, all of whom may resent Euan. But Malcolm makes it clear that Euan is to be entrusted with the work of completing his last manuscript. This is not a popular decision. Then Malcolm is shot and – the Christie touch – the telephone line to the mainland goes dead. Moreover, the manuscript cannot be found. Euan has to search for it and try to solve the murder. He sets about it energetically, if not all that intelligently. Advertisement Hide Ad Advertisement Hide Ad So The Man on the Endless Stair becomes a quest novel, as Euan tries to find a way through the maze. His method is not the best: he throws out accusations without evidence. Well, he is of course confused, and his own mind is as disturbed as Malcolm's for he is obsessed with a sister who vanished years ago. Still, even if his quest teeters at times on the brink of absurdity, as other characters disappear and his own life is threatened, it's all entertaining enough. Sometimes Barkley writes very well, sometimes badly; he has the tiresome habit, one even school teachers warn their pupils against, of saying 'I decided to do etc'. Don't say decide, one tells pupils, just do it. The plot is extravagant, conversations often absurd, and yet one keeps reading and doing so with pleasure. Barkley has imagination and talent, and one has to remember this is only his first novel. It's confused and confusing at times, but he is richly talented and, with self-discipline, will write better.