Early in the year, Jo and I flew to Amsterdam for a weekend break, taking in the usual sights of the Ann Frank house, Rijksmuseum etc, but bypassing the option of the happy cakes in the cannabis cafes. We also went round a diamond factory and bought Jo one of their products. This was us out for dinner one night:
Gary was 25 in the year 2000 and had been away from home for a few years but had had a few difficulties so he decided to come home again for a while:
My friend Ken Page had left his job with BP in Dyce and had taken a job with associate company ADCO in Abu Dhabi. They had just bought an old house in Burnett Park East and had initially intended to modernise and extend it, but were eventually persuaded that it would be best to demolish and re-build. This obviously threw a spanner in to the works/budget and Ken felt he had to earn more money to pay for it, so the chance of a tax free job in the Gulf was too good a chance to turn down.
Ken was housed in a large town house in a compound next to the Corniche, and with several beds to spare, it was an opportunity for some of us to play some golf in ideal conditions in the middle of a Scottish winter. Malcolm Grigor, Syd Freeman and I made the first ever "Desert Classic" trip and Ken managed to wangle us in to the Baker Hughes Millennium Tournament at Dubai Creek. What a do that was - no expense was spared and, after golf, there was entertainment and a huge BBQ on the shores of the Creek.
We did the full desert/Abu Dhabi/Dubai experience - dunes driving in 4 * 4's, the Gold Souk, camels, tents etc:
It was also the year of Kelly's 21st. We were now the only original residents in Arbor Court. The Boags in number 1 had gone, as had the Duncans and subsequently Pat and Arthur Roberts at number two. Finally, the Nicolls at adjacent number three were gone as well, and Denis and Morag Parr on the other side at last managed to sell their house after what seemed like an eternity on the market. The Rocks at number six were, I think, the first owners to move out.
The big event of the year 2000 was bound to be the birth of our first grandchild. Lucy was pregnant and the baby was due round about the time we would be over there on holiday. As events transpired, however, this wasn't the only significant event this year. Ross was now approaching 17 and going through a troubled time. His Standard Grade results the previous year had been pretty good, especially considering the time he hadn't been at school, as we later discovered. Highers were another matter altogether, however, but skipping education wasn't the worst of it - that was still to come.
I still remember the day. Ross called me at work and, calm as you like, told me I'd better get home as the house was on fire! Had he called the Fire Brigade? - yes they were there. Jo by now was teaching full-time, with Johanne unable to job share any more due to her declining health. I jumped in my car and left a message for Jo to do likewise when she could.
I raced home along the South Deeside Road. When I got to the long Durris straight, I could see smoke billowing in the distance - this only served me to speed even more. When I finally pulled in to Arbor Court, the firemen had the situation well under control. The top floor was blackened and the smell of smoke was everywhere, but Ross was sitting on the porch with his guitar on his lap, calmly strumming away and looking very relaxed.
We know now that Ross had company that day - the girl's (German?) mother had been going frantic with her daughter's behaviour and drug habits. The fire had started in a waste basket in Ross' room. The two of them had gone downstairs and not noticed anything until there was a loud explosion and the bedroom door was blown out by the build-up of smoke and fire behind the sturdy fire resistant doors.
When it was safe to do so, Jo and I inspected the damage. The top floor was a complete write-off, but the two lower floors had only relatively minor damage, other than the pungent smell of smoke, which infected absolutely everything.
Standing outside the house, wondering what to do, who should walk down from the Tor-na-Coille Hotel next door but Roxanne, the owner. She was carrying a silver tray and on it was a gin and tonic for Jo and a pint of Boddington's for me. Given that we'd had our ups and downs, largely through her dislike of our squash club at the back of the hotel, this was indeed a surprise gesture. What's more, she invited us all to be her guests at the hotel until we could find alternative accommodation. We gladly accepted the invitation and spent the next three nights there.
The following day, having agreed a budget with the insurance company, we set about finding temporary accommodation for all four of us. It looked like it would take 3 months or so to get all the necessary work done on the house to make it habitable again. There was nothing suitable available in Banchory, but I was very grateful to receive a call from my pal Malcolm Grigor, who, like many others, asked if there was anything he could do to help? I explained that our current priority was to find accommodation. A few hours later, Malcolm phoned back - he had a share in a property business (Cromdale) run by his college pal Martin Callan, who lived in a large house in Cults, which had a separate wing which he let out occasionally.
Coincidentally, Martin had been let down by an Australian family who had pulled out of a lease for the wing at the last moment, so would we like to take it? You bet we would. It was ideal - and Jo particularly appreciated the shorter journey to school each day.
Choosing bathroom equipment, tiling, paint colours etc took up any spare time Jo had, whilst liaising with the insurance company and the builders kept me busy too. Our friend Gary Grant was the architect on the job and he was a big help, working closely with Stan England, Builders.
Jo's Mum eventually came up to stay and helped Jo out. I was working with the loss adjuster, who was pressing me to finalise the detailed list of items lost or damaged in the fire. I continually stalled him, as, every day, we would remember something else that we had lost. One example of this was my golf shirts - I eventually managed to list 50 separate shirts from different golf courses I had played at.
Another surprising twist was when I went back to see Roxanne to ask for a bill for the insureance claim for our accommodation and food etc whilst we had stayed at the hotel. She was offended at me asking for this, haughtily stating that "I invited you as my guests"! Another example of the Jekyll and Hyde personality she had.
We had already booked our USA holiday for that year and it came as a welcome break for us after the trauma of the fire, but, before that, there was a small certificate to collect, proving once and for all my technical ability on the guitar:
and that's only the first half of the year 2000! More to follow later.
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