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TITLE
'An Ocean Apart' (1)
EXTERNAL ID
AB_LL_ROBIN_PILCHER_01
DATE OF RECORDING
2008
PERIOD
2000s
CREATOR
Robin Pilcher
SOURCE
Am Baile
ASSET ID
1429
KEYWORDS
audio
literary landscapes

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This audio extract is from 'An Ocean Apart' by Robin Pilcher, first published in 1999. It is read here by the author.

'As soon as David turned out through the gates of Inchelvie and onto the main road towards Dalnachoil, the clouds broke for the first time in about a month, allowing a fleeting splash of pale blue to push weakly through from above, followed almost immediately by a meagre ray of sunshine which glinted briefly on the windscreen of the car. By the time the Audi had reached the top of the main street of Dalnachoil, the streaks of blue had lengthened and the sun began to dart in and out through the clouds, bursting forth its unfettered light onto the houses of the village and casting swift-moving fluffy shadows onto the sides of the surrounding hills. As they drove along the main street, George Inchelvie raised his hand continuously to wave at acquaintances on the pavement, and David glanced in the rear-view mirror at the querying faces that followed the departure of the car, the villagers being unaccustomed of late to seeing both himself and his father driving off together.

Once out of Dalnachoil's speed limit, David felt a light unexpected surge of excitement slip its way through the barricades of dullness in his mind, almost as if he was at last managing to make a break from the confines of his small, sad world. He had never ventured farther than the village in the past month, and his visits there had been brief and only out of unavoidable necessity, always fearing that he might be caight up in understanding and conforting conversations with the locals. But now, driving in his own car through the familiar road, he sensed almost a feeling of well being as they wound round their way southwards through glen, flanked on either side by green sunlit fields which stretched away to clash against the brown blanket of heathermoorland that rolled down from the hills above. He glanced over at his father , and for the firsttime in a long while was able to feel a sudden burst of intense love for the old man who sat with his eyes closed, his hand cupped around his ear to help him pick up the low tones of the radio. David reached forward to turn up the volume, and his father looked round and smiled.

"Thanks - that's a bit better," he said, dropping his hand to his lap. " Forgot to put in my bloody hearing-aid this morning."

At the bottom of the glen, David edged out at T-junction, then pulled away in the direction of Aberlour, pushing the car hard so that he could feel the power of the engine press his back into the seat. The narrow road followed the contours of the Spey River, running swollen and brown after the spring rains. David took it fast but warily, being forced to slow from time to time to avoid hittingg a veriety of obstacles that met on his way: first an ageing Massey-Ferguson tractor, which came hammering up the road towards him, black smoke belching from its punctured exhaust-pipe, while a large round bale of hay, while a large round bale of hay, bouncing wildly on its front loader, successfully impeded its driver's vision of the road ahead: next two black-face eyes ewes that were lying in the middle of the road, soaking up the warmth from the Tarmac, their heads thrown back as they cudded, like a couple of haughty old ladies complaining disdainfully to each other about this unscheduled disturbance to their peace: and finally a flashy new four-wheel-drive vehicle parked haphazardly at the side of the road, the empty fishing-rod holder on its roof indicating that its driver was somewhere down on the banks of the river, playing its pools and eddies for salmon.'

Robin Pilcher was born in Dundee on 10th August 1950, the second child of Graham, a director of the family jute business, and the novelist Rosamunde Pilcher. He attended school in Dunfermline and Bristol before finally returning home to complete his education at Dundee College of Commerce.

Robin has worked as a cowboy, an assistant film cameraman, a farmer, a public relations and marketing consultant and a tennis coach. His first book, 'An Ocean Apart' (1999) sold to 11 countries and reached the lower echelons of the best-seller lists in the UK and the USA. This was followed in 2002 by 'Starting Over', which reached number 9 in the New York Times Bestseller Lists, and 'A Risk Worth Taking' in February 2004. All three books have been adapted for television. Robin's latest book 'Starburst' (2007) is set around the annual Edinburgh Festival.

Robin and his wife Kirsty divide their time between Scotland and Spain. Robin is a keen player of golf and tennis, and when the mood takes him he still picks up his guitar to strum out a ballad.

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'An Ocean Apart' (1)

2000s

audio; literary landscapes

Am Baile

Literary Landscapes: Robin Pilcher

This audio extract is from 'An Ocean Apart' by Robin Pilcher, first published in 1999. It is read here by the author.<br /> <br /> 'As soon as David turned out through the gates of Inchelvie and onto the main road towards Dalnachoil, the clouds broke for the first time in about a month, allowing a fleeting splash of pale blue to push weakly through from above, followed almost immediately by a meagre ray of sunshine which glinted briefly on the windscreen of the car. By the time the Audi had reached the top of the main street of Dalnachoil, the streaks of blue had lengthened and the sun began to dart in and out through the clouds, bursting forth its unfettered light onto the houses of the village and casting swift-moving fluffy shadows onto the sides of the surrounding hills. As they drove along the main street, George Inchelvie raised his hand continuously to wave at acquaintances on the pavement, and David glanced in the rear-view mirror at the querying faces that followed the departure of the car, the villagers being unaccustomed of late to seeing both himself and his father driving off together.<br /> <br /> Once out of Dalnachoil's speed limit, David felt a light unexpected surge of excitement slip its way through the barricades of dullness in his mind, almost as if he was at last managing to make a break from the confines of his small, sad world. He had never ventured farther than the village in the past month, and his visits there had been brief and only out of unavoidable necessity, always fearing that he might be caight up in understanding and conforting conversations with the locals. But now, driving in his own car through the familiar road, he sensed almost a feeling of well being as they wound round their way southwards through glen, flanked on either side by green sunlit fields which stretched away to clash against the brown blanket of heathermoorland that rolled down from the hills above. He glanced over at his father , and for the firsttime in a long while was able to feel a sudden burst of intense love for the old man who sat with his eyes closed, his hand cupped around his ear to help him pick up the low tones of the radio. David reached forward to turn up the volume, and his father looked round and smiled.<br /> <br /> "Thanks - that's a bit better," he said, dropping his hand to his lap. " Forgot to put in my bloody hearing-aid this morning."<br /> <br /> At the bottom of the glen, David edged out at T-junction, then pulled away in the direction of Aberlour, pushing the car hard so that he could feel the power of the engine press his back into the seat. The narrow road followed the contours of the Spey River, running swollen and brown after the spring rains. David took it fast but warily, being forced to slow from time to time to avoid hittingg a veriety of obstacles that met on his way: first an ageing Massey-Ferguson tractor, which came hammering up the road towards him, black smoke belching from its punctured exhaust-pipe, while a large round bale of hay, while a large round bale of hay, bouncing wildly on its front loader, successfully impeded its driver's vision of the road ahead: next two black-face eyes ewes that were lying in the middle of the road, soaking up the warmth from the Tarmac, their heads thrown back as they cudded, like a couple of haughty old ladies complaining disdainfully to each other about this unscheduled disturbance to their peace: and finally a flashy new four-wheel-drive vehicle parked haphazardly at the side of the road, the empty fishing-rod holder on its roof indicating that its driver was somewhere down on the banks of the river, playing its pools and eddies for salmon.'<br /> <br /> Robin Pilcher was born in Dundee on 10th August 1950, the second child of Graham, a director of the family jute business, and the novelist Rosamunde Pilcher. He attended school in Dunfermline and Bristol before finally returning home to complete his education at Dundee College of Commerce.<br /> <br /> Robin has worked as a cowboy, an assistant film cameraman, a farmer, a public relations and marketing consultant and a tennis coach. His first book, 'An Ocean Apart' (1999) sold to 11 countries and reached the lower echelons of the best-seller lists in the UK and the USA. This was followed in 2002 by 'Starting Over', which reached number 9 in the New York Times Bestseller Lists, and 'A Risk Worth Taking' in February 2004. All three books have been adapted for television. Robin's latest book 'Starburst' (2007) is set around the annual Edinburgh Festival.<br /> <br /> Robin and his wife Kirsty divide their time between Scotland and Spain. Robin is a keen player of golf and tennis, and when the mood takes him he still picks up his guitar to strum out a ballad.