23rd Annual Dinner

Lynwilg Hotel - Strathspey 

12-13 November 1988

The clans gathered from far afield; the Skinners from Cumbria, the Fishers from Lancashire, and furthest of all, Alan Melville from Surrey. Mags even made it from Glasgow and announced her engagement. 

So eager were the assorted gangrels that there were enough early arrivals for a preliminary party on the Friday night.

Dick, Roni & Kenny - party animals on Friday

Parties went off in several directions on the Saturday, some to the snowy plateau to Ben Macdhui, some along the rim of the northern Cairngorm corries, some to the Glen Feshie hills, some to explore Rothiemurchus forest and it is rumoured that some got as far as the Aviemore Centre.

By the appointed hour a record number of 52 plus one dog were assembled for the dinner.

waiting for dinner - Graham, Ian Jones, Elizabeth, Ron, Dee & Andrew

Now, in last years Journal I posed the question "So what was different in 1987?" and answered by musing on what might change in future. well, in 1988 there were some differences. 

We were at a brand new location, the Lynwilg Hotel near Aviemore. The bemused owners had only been in charge for three weeks and while they were not the first hoteliers to double-book us, they were the first to solve the problem by accommodating us on settees, the lounge floor, the corridors, and the wood shed. Some members wisely preferred frosty tents on the lawn. Older members were reminded of air-raid shelters in the blitz.

Another new experience was the advent of professional entertainment to replace games and feats of strength after dinner, in the attractive form of Isobel Hirst and her accordion to lead the ceilidh. 

Isobel Hirst - and the club dancers

Her "oppo" caused no little consternation by tuning up in the gents at 2.00am and emerging with bagpipes at full shriek. 

They led the dancing in a marathon stint until 2.00am, introducing such things as "The Hooligans' Jig" (seems appropriate)

Frank preforming a Ukrainian dance

Frank & Bill in a double Cossack act

Jack & Roni 'take the floor'

They were not the only entertainment. The new Mull Men gave us a fresh version of their tuneful scurrilous character demolition of club members.

The 'New' Mull Men

John Mykura brought the house down with a rhyming toast to the lassies; and our principal guest Ian Jones from Outward Bound Loch Eil chose as his theme the leading of blind people up Mont Blanc (was he trying to tell us something?) 

George Stewart almost  managed to reduce Eric to inarticulacy by presenting him, on behalf of the club, with a certificate of Honorary Life Membership. 

He based his speech on Eric's name -

E for enthusiasm, R for reliability, I for interest in members, C for canoeing, 

S for sea-level, O for old, T for talkative and T even more talkative. 

Jack Maxwell , in best trade union style, came up with a back dated cheque in refund of fees. The only snag was it was on a board about 6 feet x 4 feet and Eric now has problems with his bank manger.

Eric and the giant cheque

Jack was on good form - your author will not easily forget the sight of his 5'6" frame firmly giving marching orders to a 7'6" gate-crasher from the Killin mountain rescue team in the wee small hours.

Even the elements laid on a spectacular. The Northern Lights flickered for a while over our celebrations, though some sceptics believed they were the Old Aberdeen variety.

And so, as the barman later said "We closed the bar about 4.00am because no-one was buying any more"

Astonishingly, about a couple of dozen bright eyed and bushy tailed celebrants appeared on a Sunday for a hearty breakfast, but only hardy veterans like George, Bruce, Stuart and Eric, propelled by Jenny, were seen to totter off up a Corbett to maintain the fiction of a hill walking meet.

Yes, Jack organised an epic in the best tradition of Club Dinners. 

What lies in store for 1989?  A question to tempt Fate.

author - Eric Scott

photographs - Eric Scott & Bill Gray

18th Annual Dinner

Bridge of Orchy Hotel

3rd Dec 1983

The month was December

A night to remember

In the Bridge of Orchy Hotel

When dinner was served

To the Moray Club herd

And the drinking went on past the bell.

The venison meal was excellent, service was prompt and a special thank you was given to the 'NEW' hotel staff.

 After the final course, our glasses and coffee cups were filled, and Elizabeth started the speeches with a resume of the club activities in the past year and a toast was made to the Queen (read on and find out who he is)

Our 'Top' table

Mr James Murray was next to take the stand introducing all guests to the club members and toasting the guests. I am not going to say James took a long time in doing this but he had an interval for us to get last orders at the bar.

The guest speaker Jack Crosbie, came next and delighted his captive audience with shocking tales of members, now respectable, in their younger days. They know who they are!

As you can imagine, Mr Crosbie was a difficult act to follow, but the resident club superstar 'Drew Lennon McCartney Carlin' was called to toast the ladies in song; modesty forbids me from saying how wonderful he was.

Drew 'Lennon McCartney' entertaining

There was now a lull in the proceedings due to the fact that none of the female members of the club were willing to volunteer for the task of toasting the laddies. On the programme for the evening a certain Wanda Boyce (want the boys...gettit...?) was mentioned, so as time went on an unexpected hush fell about the room. Ladies sat looking puzzled and men shifted in their seats to try and get a better view of the top table.


Suddenly! The kitchen door burst open and in rushed...Joan Collins? Sophia Loren? No...Ronnie Arnott looking stunning in a grey wig, two oranges, a beautifully cut fashion kilt and a pair of high heeled shoes.

Ron in drag

Luckily Ronnie's speech was the last on the agenda as he would have been very difficult to follow. 


The Dirty Bugger of the Year Award was presented to Cameron Baird for his services to John Watson's shirt.


So ended the 18th Annual Dinner of the Moray Club - roll on the next.

Twas four in the morning,

The sun was just dawning

And none of the heads were too clear

Although we said then

Cor! Never Again!

We'll be back some time, next year.

Drew Carlin

Carn Aosda

Sunday November 4th 1984

The party was hardly over as Mitch, John Watson and I breakfasted.

Sudden sun and biting cold air and snow peaks peeping above the golden Glen Shee woods were too good to miss.

It was amazing how much snow had fallen during the wild, wild, night (weather-wise I mean)

The snow line was at 1500’ – the ploughs had been out, and as Mitch surveyed the hills from the Cairnwell car park he positively beamed with delight.
‘Now they are beginning to look like they are supposed to’

The wind was still strong, out of the North, chasing big blue patches of sky.

Carn Aosda was blinding white in the sun and every crest around us flew a banner of spindrift. Up we went, direct from the café; a helluva plod of course in deep new powder, but only a thousand feet to the top.

The slope was alive with mountain hares, terribly conspicuous because the snow had caught them still in their brown coats.

We didn’t spend long at the cairn – it was Arctic.

First glissade of the season swooshed us down, and we were back for lunch after ‘cornice practice’ in a gully. i.e. overgrown kids playing in the snow.

Eric Scott

24th Annual Dinner Meet

4th November 1989

This year the committee in its wisdom took us back to our roots, the Clachaig Inn in Glencoe. It was a much changed place from the early days when it squeezed in 10 diners at 10/6 per head, but the hills were the same and the goings-on for 40 odd members would have been recognised by the founding fathers.

Of those worthies, Alan Melville, George Stewart, and Eric Scott were still with us rabbiting on about the epics of benightment on the Aonach Eagach. The attractions of Glencoe also pulled in out of town members like Dave & Liz Skinner and Helen Scott from England. The march of technology was evidenced by George waving a video camera around, an innovation regarded with much scepticism as the evening wore on.

Our distinguished guest was Sandy Cousins, complete with kilt and dog, all three weel-kent to generations of gangrels. He gave us a most appropriate speech relating hills to clubs to friendships, followed by an, at times, hilarious slide-show - while the disco was set up for the ‘dancing’.

Eric won the DBOY award for a quite disgraceful page 3 in the Journal.

Yes, it was business as usual. Some members even preserved the fiction of a hill walking meet by reaching the tops of Beinn a’ Bheitheir; others wandered in the Lost Valley; in Glen Etive; and over the Devil’s Staircase. Those with the most enterprise got on to the first snows of the season.

Eric Scott

Eric wearing the 'DBOY'