Outer Ear

Issue 6, Sep 2001

Little Known Facts

by David M

Being a somewhat shy and reserved sort of chap (as all we Scots are - isn't that right Ms Graham? or is one of us the exception which proves the rule?) I tend to hide my little achievements under my kilt - but that's another story for a different publication!

Many moons ago, back in my schooldays in that weel-kent metropolis of Inverurie (think of Scotland [I know, I know, there are enough of them on TV these days to wish you'd never heard of the place, but bear with me...], now think of Oil - that's right, you're thinking of Aberdeen, now image a place further north - no, you won't fall off the edge of the world and, despite my wife's claims to the contrary, it is not all Tundra! - NOT TOO FAR NORTH for Heaven's sake or you'll be in Orkney or Shetland with the sheep! - but a sleepy little Royal Burgh in the Garioch, where the Don and the Ury meet, where chaps are "loons" and the lasses are "quines" and the language takes a turn (I won't say for the better or for the worse - I'll leave that to others - but Sassenachs beware - you'll be easily spotted the second you ask for water in your whisky! - but I digress...)

As I was saying, back in my schooldays, to get out of cross country running or, heaven forbid, sprinting, (you all remember my body shape - it is anything but aerodynamic and definitely NOT designed for running) I volunteered to be the clown who threw the discus for our "house". Well there wasn't much competition from my opposition house discus throwers and yours trully was volunteered to undergo some extra training to represent the school (Motto: "Spiritus Intus Alit" - something along the lines of "The Spirit Burns Within Us" - how did they know back then that whisky would have that effect on me???) in inter-school athletics competitions.

Try as I could, there was no way out. Claims that big Jock Benzie hadn't tried and I was sure he could do better than me fell on deaf ears. "Killer" Kiloh, the head of Sports, saw personally to it that I spent most of my free periods on the field in all sorts of weather practising the art.

I remember one event when I came last - even some bespectacled wimp from Banchory beat me by a good several yards (yes, we were not into metric measurements in those days, despite the discus being a metric weight of 1.5 kilos). My excuse was that I had a bad dose of diarre... diari... diarri...the SQUITS and was frightened to uncross my legs in case I had to forget about my shape and beat allcomers in the 200 yard dash to the loo. Killer came up to me the next day and in front of all my friends (I seem to remember that I did have some back then) that he could spit farther than I threw that day. Being the meek and mild chap that I was (and still am, of course) I took it all on the chin and hoped that would be the end of my career as discus thrower for the school - but no. Killer upped the training regime instead! There was to be no easy escape and the County Sports day was rapidly approaching.

Well, to cut a long story short, my little known fact is that I went on to become the Aberdeenshire Schools Discus Champion - and (sad as it is...) I still have my little medal tucked away in my treasure box.

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Scary stuff - especially as my little known fact was to be that I represented my school in both the long-jump and high-jump. Unfortunately (or not), between their spotting my potential and the event itself, I discovered boys. Having developed the necessary assets to lure the unsuspecting young male (legs, arms and head being optional extras), my attention became focused on an entirely different sport.
On the day of the school championships, I proved to be particularly rubbish at both long-jump and high-jump but continue to take a healthy interest in my preferred sport.