When the extra-ordinary appears normal to the traveller – an early evening in Doune, Scotland.
On a couple of occasions recently, things have happened in places that I have taken as “ordinary” events, just because I have arrived in a place and didn’t know any better. Only later, have I found out that I witnessed something unusual or extra-ordinary. Those incidents reminded me of this one evening which happened several years ago, but still brings a smile to my face, as I hope it does to yours.
I’m travelling up to see friends in Forres, Scotland from Sheffield England – something I have done on an occasional basis for several years. I don’t like the long drive (just over 7 hours by the quickest route) now I’m older, so I try and stop somewhere half-way. Half- way is the town of Lanark, but having stayed there several times, I thought I’d try for somewhere else and plumped for Doune – near Stirling.
Why Doune? Well as usual I liked the name (say it with a Scottish accent!) and it was en route. It also seemed a very small place and so, most importantly, would be quiet. As most of my regular readers know, I like my quiet.
So, with that in mind I booked a hotel, on the by-pass road down from the village (location is important here…) and planned to arrive at around 4.30 in the afternoon.
Now after packing, getting ready and 3.5 hours of driving, I was already a bit tired when I arrived at the hotel, so once in my room I decided to have a quick nap. An hour later and I was ready to explore Doune. It was a nice sunny day and so I thought I would enjoy the walk up over the river bridge and up a right-hand curved road which led to the main village centre on the hill. But there was something wrong. I could hear voices. Not just voices, but a rowdy crowd that would not sound out of place in a big city on a Saturday night – but this was a small Scottish village midweek, so what was going on?
Because I had never been to Doune before, my brain was trying to make sense of it all. Maybe it’s the local fete (but at 5.30 in the evening?) Maybe they are packing up after some fair or other (no … it sounds too quarrelsome for that.) Indeed, as I made my way up the hill it was clear that there was some sort of fight going on – I could hear the sound of breaking glass, it sounded more like a riot.
As I rounded the curve I could see that the road had been blocked to traffic by the police and there was an officer sitting at the barrier. Now I was relieved that the police knew what was going on; but puzzled that they seemed to be doing nothing to stop it. As I moved further up the hill, I could see that there was indeed a running battle and the glass being smashed were beer bottles being thrown, but still the police did nothing; in fact the officer stood up when he saw me arrive and came down to meet me.
“I’m afraid you can’t go any further sir.
I’m not sure that they have finished shooting yet.”
Shooting in Doune! What had I come to? This wasn’t even the norm for a Saturday night in Glasgow – never mind this supposedly sleepy village.
“However they will probably be finished filming altogether in half an hour or so – you can sit and watch if you like.”
That was the moment when my sheer panic was replaced by huge relief and then the trick was not to show it to the officer in front of me – I hope I pulled it off. I did indeed sit and watch the action, which only lasted for a few more minutes before it was announced that it was a wrap and people started to drift off. I was then allowed to walk up to the top of the hill, the town square, where I saw (what would have been obvious if I had come into the village on the main road) all the recording vans and equipment – things that would have told me that I had wandered onto a film set.
It was such a nice evening that I decided to carry on walking out of Doune for about an hour and when I came back everything had been magically packed up and gone and it was as if the event had never happened.
The following morning, I confessed my previous day’s panic to a couple of the hotel staff who were in a fit of giggles about it. “We’ll have to tell Billy Connolly about that. He’s coming in to film in the room that you were in, in the next few days.”
“Blimey, the film must be set in the 1970s then,” I thought to myself.
I was wrong, it was set in the ’80s.
The film is called “What we did on our Holidays” – it was released in 2014, so I guess the filming took place the year before. I may not remember the date – but I will remember my evening in Doune until the day I die!
The castle in Doune was used as a film set for Game of Thrones – so the village probably gets a few more visitors now. I wonder if anyone wandered onto that scene and wondered what on earth was going on!
