Ùrachadh mu Dheireadh 21/09/2017
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TIOTAL
'A Lament for the Union' (2)
EXTERNAL ID
AB_LL_DAVID_ROSS_04
DEIT
2008
LINN
2000an
CRUTHADAIR
David Ross
NEACH-FIOSRACHAIDH
Am Baile
AITHNEACHADH MAOINE
1290
KEYWORDS
claistinneach
cruthan-tìre litreachais

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Tha a' chuibhreann chlaistinneach seo o 'A Lament for the Union' le David Ross, foillsichte an 2007. Tha e air a leughadh an seo leis an ùghdar.

'It was a hard winter. No matter how much coal she heaped on the fire, even with the central heating fully on as well, she never felt warm except when her husband was with her. When he was away the days and nights seemed unending, and the cold seemed to be permanently lodged inside her. The new fear of abandonment which had swept over her heightened her normal fear for his safety at sea, and all she could do in his absence was to repeat to herself his time-worn reassurances. He was a Safety Officer after all, was he not? Ah, but finally the day came when she persisted too far in her concern. And he said yes, of course, there were countless factors beyond his personal control and in such an event there would be compensation -

Compensation? As if all the riches in the world could ever compensate her -

He'd become angry at that, instead of touched by her expression of dependence. No doubt he'd instinctively sensed that the right time had come to tell her to pull herself together, because it was soon after that she began to do so.

Towards the end of April, when she was given a clean bill of health at her final checkup, an impulse to break with her usual routine took hold of her, and instead of returning home directly by the ferry, she boarded a Nairn bus, travelling through the built up slopes of Drumossie as far as the Cumberland Stone where she was the only passenger to get off.

The bleakness of Culloden Moor that day, at the same time of year the battle had been fought, was at first repellant to her as she slowly tramped round the site, avoiding treacherous bogs, whose sparse reeds and rushes offered little indication of their real depths. But in the end she began to feel a melancholy kinship with the place, for men also had had the life torn out of them there - by bayonet and by bullet.

And when she stopped by those mossy mounds where the heather has for two centuries and more refused to grow, she fancied she could hear low murmurings at that most mysterious place. The words were not words she could understand but their resonant tones spoke eventually to her of some profound acceptance lodged deep within the earth itself. Then it was that resignation began to rap itself around her like a plaid against the spring chill and the real healing could begin.'

An dèidh ceumnachadh aig Oilthigh Dhùin Èidinn, dh'fhuirich Daibhidh Ros an sin fad còig bliadhn' deug eile, ag obair aig diofar obair bho òraidiche gu nigheadair-shoithichean. Sgrìobh e dreach dà nobhail agus ruith e Bùth-obrach de Sgrìobhadh Chruthachail airson a Theatre Workshop a bharrachd air cluich agus sgrìobhadh ciùil airson diofar còmhlan, nam measg Poetry Roadshow, measgadh facail/ciùil de bhàird is luchd-ciùil an àrd-ùrlair.

Nuair a thill e do bhaile a dhachaigh, Baile Dhubhthaich ann an Ros an Ear, thòisich e a' sgrìobhadh 'Highland Views' agus ag obair, mar bu mhotha, na fhear-ciùil agus na thaoitear, an toiseach leis a Highlands Music Centre, agus le Invergordon Community Arts Project. Bha uallach air a-rithist airson cùrsaichean ann an Dèanamh Ceòl agus airson Dòigh Fuaimneachaidh airson Colaiste na Gàidhealtachd a Tuath aig Ionad Alanais aca, agus cuideachd airson Cùrsa ann an Sgrìobhadh Chruthachail ann an Dòrnach.

An-dràsta tha Daibhidh Ros ag obair dha-fhèin mar thaoitear de ghiotàr, chruthachadh agus chlàradh.

Airson stiùireadh mu bhith a’ cleachdadh ìomhaighean agus susbaint eile, faicibh duilleag ‘Na Cumhaichean air Fad.’
’S e companaidh cuibhrichte fo bharantas clàraichte ann an Alba Àir. SC407011 agus carthannas clàraichte Albannach Àir. SC042593 a th’ ann an High Life na Gàidhealtachd.
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'A Lament for the Union' (2)

2000an

claistinneach; cruthan-tìre litreachais

Am Baile

Literary Landscapes: David Ross

Tha a' chuibhreann chlaistinneach seo o 'A Lament for the Union' le David Ross, foillsichte an 2007. Tha e air a leughadh an seo leis an ùghdar.<br /> <br /> 'It was a hard winter. No matter how much coal she heaped on the fire, even with the central heating fully on as well, she never felt warm except when her husband was with her. When he was away the days and nights seemed unending, and the cold seemed to be permanently lodged inside her. The new fear of abandonment which had swept over her heightened her normal fear for his safety at sea, and all she could do in his absence was to repeat to herself his time-worn reassurances. He was a Safety Officer after all, was he not? Ah, but finally the day came when she persisted too far in her concern. And he said yes, of course, there were countless factors beyond his personal control and in such an event there would be compensation - <br /> <br /> Compensation? As if all the riches in the world could ever compensate her - <br /> <br /> He'd become angry at that, instead of touched by her expression of dependence. No doubt he'd instinctively sensed that the right time had come to tell her to pull herself together, because it was soon after that she began to do so. <br /> <br /> Towards the end of April, when she was given a clean bill of health at her final checkup, an impulse to break with her usual routine took hold of her, and instead of returning home directly by the ferry, she boarded a Nairn bus, travelling through the built up slopes of Drumossie as far as the Cumberland Stone where she was the only passenger to get off. <br /> <br /> The bleakness of Culloden Moor that day, at the same time of year the battle had been fought, was at first repellant to her as she slowly tramped round the site, avoiding treacherous bogs, whose sparse reeds and rushes offered little indication of their real depths. But in the end she began to feel a melancholy kinship with the place, for men also had had the life torn out of them there - by bayonet and by bullet. <br /> <br /> And when she stopped by those mossy mounds where the heather has for two centuries and more refused to grow, she fancied she could hear low murmurings at that most mysterious place. The words were not words she could understand but their resonant tones spoke eventually to her of some profound acceptance lodged deep within the earth itself. Then it was that resignation began to rap itself around her like a plaid against the spring chill and the real healing could begin.'<br /> <br /> An dèidh ceumnachadh aig Oilthigh Dhùin Èidinn, dh'fhuirich Daibhidh Ros an sin fad còig bliadhn' deug eile, ag obair aig diofar obair bho òraidiche gu nigheadair-shoithichean. Sgrìobh e dreach dà nobhail agus ruith e Bùth-obrach de Sgrìobhadh Chruthachail airson a Theatre Workshop a bharrachd air cluich agus sgrìobhadh ciùil airson diofar còmhlan, nam measg Poetry Roadshow, measgadh facail/ciùil de bhàird is luchd-ciùil an àrd-ùrlair. <br /> <br /> Nuair a thill e do bhaile a dhachaigh, Baile Dhubhthaich ann an Ros an Ear, thòisich e a' sgrìobhadh 'Highland Views' agus ag obair, mar bu mhotha, na fhear-ciùil agus na thaoitear, an toiseach leis a Highlands Music Centre, agus le Invergordon Community Arts Project. Bha uallach air a-rithist airson cùrsaichean ann an Dèanamh Ceòl agus airson Dòigh Fuaimneachaidh airson Colaiste na Gàidhealtachd a Tuath aig Ionad Alanais aca, agus cuideachd airson Cùrsa ann an Sgrìobhadh Chruthachail ann an Dòrnach.<br /> <br /> An-dràsta tha Daibhidh Ros ag obair dha-fhèin mar thaoitear de ghiotàr, chruthachadh agus chlàradh.