Last night a former policeman came to the village hall to give a talk on "River Tay, its Lochs and Tributaries - Police Experiences". Now retired and in his late sixties, his career started as a local village bobby before being moved to the Traffic division where it appears he remained for the rest of his career, gradually being promoted through the ranks to sergeant.
About 20 people came to listen to his reminiscences (two pounds donation on the door with mandatory cup of tea provided). The knitting table had been tidied away and the room reconfigured in a classroom style. I was a couple of minutes late which meant introductions were momentarily halted and a scramble ensued while an extra chair and a suitable spot for me to sit was found.
It transpired that our bobby had two talks up his sleeve - one about experiences relating to road traffic and this evening's presentation, about incidents on the water. His talk, we were informed, would comprise some horrible and some hilarious moments, all illustrated by a slideshow.
Crime, as it turns out, is all relative. This part of Perthshire has certainly been the scene of a few gruesome episodes, no doubt the highlights of our bobby's career as these were the incidents he chose to recall for us. Whilst these were few and far between in the 60s and 70s, they certainly served as a backdrop, indeed excuse, to show off some beautiful photography of the local area.
The slideshow, far from being a sickening showcase of dead, mutiliated and decomposed bodies was a series of stunning landscapes featuring the River Tay, its bridges, burn (creek) beds and views across the countryside. Not a person, alive or dead, to be seen.
Our bobby would point his finger to a midpoint in a loch to explain that this was the spot where two drunken young lads fuelled by alcohol and a desire to show off to their girlfriends had taken out a leaky boat and, unable to swim, had drowned when it sank to the murky depths. Despite searching for hours in the Blue Bonnet (the boat used by the water traffic police) the boys could not be saved.
Another idyllic spot near a bridge was the place where a man flyfishing in his waders was seen gradually being sucked into mud. Our man and another cop from the local constabulary threw him a rope to pull over his head and around his chest so they could yank him out. Meanwhile the mud was sucking him further into the river and crowds began to gather. His wife called out for them to be careful - she was worried that the effort would do for him as he had recently had a heart attack. The policemen dragged with all their might on the rope but the mud kept sucking him down further, and by now the police were being pulled into the mud as well. Finally with a loud pop the fisherman flew out of his waders and onto the riverbank. On being rescued, his main concern was that no one should hear about this embarrassing event because he was a local politician. He was assured it would be kept quiet. But this was big news in Perthshire and the next day a photo of the rescue, taken by a local photographer, was front page news in The Scotsman.
The most gruesome story was accompanied by the most benign photograph - a shot of a pretty bend on one of the main roads. Now, whilst strictly speaking this was a road traffic story it had relevance for our talk because a car with three drunks in it careened off the road and into the loch. Two drunks had minor injuries but the third, the driver, was found with a shard of wood in his neck (he survived). Our bobby however was not satisfied that this was all as clear-cut as it seemed and pursuing his gut instinct, he found evidence to show that one of the other drunks had been driving. Establishing which drunk had been at the wheel proved a little tricky as they concocted a defence by both saying the other one had been the driver. We were told that this was 'a very serious crime indeed' but one that only landed the eventual culprit two years in jail - which he appealed and got an extra year for his trouble.
You must be wondering about the hilarious story. Our bobby's sergeant was by all accounts not much liked, and was nicknamed Semmit - the Scottish word for vest - because 'he was always on your back'. On one occasion whilst trying to extract a drunken lass who had waded semi-naked into the river, Semmit decided to be the hero of the hour and take the wheel of Blue Bonnet from our bobby. Trouble was he had never driven a boat and he wheeled it not once but twice around the river at a hair-raising 25 mph, on both occasions heading straight for the poor girl causing her to scarper for her life and cling to the rushes at the edge of the river. Afterwards Semmit declared that every traffic policeman had to take boating lessons. Well really!
As you can imagine, this lecture was thirsty work and we all needed that cup of tea by the end.
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