I got back from Fraserburgh this evening. Flip me, I’m tired, but what a lovely time! I think my favourite part of my job is getting to visit different places , encouraging the teams in centres and sharing stories. I’m kinda fed up hearing my own story, but I forget that the story of how I got into this work is new to other people. I forget the power of going first and allowing others to be liberated from their own stories of loss and the people that squashed their right to grieve. Or allowing others to realise how much their words of judgment can have a negative and paralysing affect on people.
At the end of last night, the two ladies who’d organised for us to come up said their thank yous to us, and they almost had me crying.
But the main thing I learned in Fraserburgh is this…
They mak fancy pieces, and they are affy fine!
The night before heading up to Fraserburgh, I was panicking that I’d forgotten my Doric (cue a question from a South African friend who asked me ‘Who’s Doric?‘ when I was expressing my concern regarding this which made me crack up with the giggles). Just so you know, Doric is not a person, but a dialect of Scots-English unique to the North East of Scotland. Thankfully, it came back to me quickly (and the ladies all spoke to us slowly so we could keep up)!
‘Fancy piece‘ is basically a phrase used to describe some scrumptious home baking – whether it’s a slice of chocolate caramel shortbread, a great slab of lemon and blueberry drizzle cake or a cupcake slathered in butter icing.
Well, the Brochers (people from Fraserburgh) are as I said great makers of fabulous cakes and bakes! And no sooner had you finished one ‘fancy piece‘ but you’d be offered another one because they are indeed, ‘affy fine‘.
I’ve seriously lost count of the number of cakes and tray bakes I’ve eaten in the last 24 hours, but I think my wardrobe could be at risk of me outgrowing it again as a result!
Until next time Fraserburgh – keep peckin awa’.