Easy. I can do that. Should be a doddle. What could go wrong?

Scenery and sea, and that means good weather days – sunshine and wind not too strong and from the right direction. There were plenty of them when I couldn’t spare the time, not many when I could. But then…

A day forecast when all would be perfect. It was a go. Boat ready, camera batteries charged, notebook, tripod, all ready. First a hike up the hill to a quiet place for the view over the peninsula and an intro from me. The view from the top looking south down the Sound of Jura is stunning. I set up the tripod and camera, twizzle the screen so I can see myself, get myself in shot, find a piece of sheep do to mark the spot, twizzle the view screen so the microphone can hear me, walk out of shot, turn round, walk back to my mark and start the intro. Cue half a dozen cows walking into shot to investigate. I start well, I really do, but with no list of key words easily seen the intro. declines into ‘umms’ and ‘errs’ as I become aware of the cows which, like gongoozelers behind the TV news reporter, are stealing the show. Take two.

Take two goes well, cows forgotten like the true professional, until a bunch of people crest the hill right behind the camera and the umms and errs return. Of course I have to talk, for one is a friend and it’s churlish not to. I need another ‘take’, but time has moved on and the cows nearer and I have to get down to the shore and aboard.

A hat magically appears on my head as I video myself leaving the shore. Aboard the boat the camera insists on slipping from its position however tight the lashings. But, perseverance pays and I’m determined. It all takes time. Finally we’re at Scodaig and clambering ashore to a small hummock overlooking the landing place. Set up the gear, focus on the landing point, video on, then scramble back down to the dinghy and row out of shot. Turn and row back, disembark and climb over the rocks back up to the camera, trying hard not to walk out of shot. More backwards and forwards-ing as I video my way to where I want to be.

There are marks in the rocks I want to show, but it’s late and the sun is now in the wrong place and there are no shadows and the features don’t show up without shadows – but I’m determined. ‘The show must go on’, I say to myself. So I film the marks that can’t be seen and tell the story I came here to tell. And I nearly get there, I really do. I’m just at the climax of my tale when a female voice, disembodied, says in a nasal New York accent, ‘Low battery power’, and I gabble to finish but too late, as she turns off the camera – like my story isn’t worth listening to - and so I pack up and go home.

Tomorrow it’ll be raining, the next too windy. ‘Scodaig’ will have to be done again – or most of it anyway. But it will be, it will be.

‘I’d never have thought it’, said Tony later. ‘I never thought I’d be a world champion anything. I’m quite chuffed’, he said, adjusting the sling supporting his throwing arm, ‘Looking forward to defending my title next year’. Here’s his story in his own words.

The event started in 1983, and re-started in 1997. I’ve remembered it every year, usually when reading about it in the Oban Times four days afterwards. I’ve always meant to enter, but I was always too late – even by Ardfern standards. This year I didn’t have to rely on the OT, for I was reminded on the internet.

I spend a fair bit of time floating around among the islands of Nether Lorne in my RIB (Rigid Inflatable Boat) and share my tall tales with others on an internet web forum. Tony Hill, who runs passenger trips from Easdale Island on bigger RIB’s than mine, told us all about the Skimming and offered berthing in the tiny harbour on the island. So that was it. No hob nobbing with the hoi polloi for me. I’d arrive in style and enter the competition. And I did.

Arriving early on the day while there was still enough water to get into the harbour and helped by Tony to moor, I landed on Easdale for the first time ever. It was quiet on the island. The hordes weren’t due for an hour and everyone was speaking in whispers on account of the party the previous night. Even so, there was an expectant buzz in the air as local craft stalls and barbecues were being prepared. I joined in and helped carry stones to weigh down the kitchen tables and bits and pieces against the forecast strong winds.

Stones are skimmed across the 65m wide flooded quarry, in a lane between two rows of marker buoys. At noon, or thereabouts, we were under way, with the children going first There are lots of categories – age groups, boys, girls, then ladies, and a new one for this year, ‘Old Tosser’ for those who have ‘gone beyond their fifties’ (what a nice way of saying ‘old’) . It took quite a while to get to my turn to skim. All the time the wind was increasing and so were the waves, white horses rolling between the island and Cuan Sound. I began to wonder a bit about my voyage home, out towards Pladda and down the Sound of Luing. Maybe travelling in style hadn’t been such a good idea? This same wind was gusting down the skimming lane too – which is my excuse for only one of my three allowed stones bouncing enough times to be a legal throw, and of course, the shorter distance than I would have expected. ‘Just a bit of fun,’ I said to myself – but I didn’t really believe that.

To find I was first equal was a real surprise. A medal, a tee shirt and a case of rather nice wine. Super. I see from the website ( www.stoneskimming.com ) that a local, Adrian Laycock, was the other winner. He must have had lots of practice, so I think I did ok. There was no third place. That’s sad. It would seem just the two of us entered our category. There were lots and lots of ‘Old’ people there. You’d have thought plenty of them would’ve been ‘Tossers’ too.

The ferries took the hordes away, the island was quiet again and all too soon I had to leave myself. Buoyed up by pride at my success and by the super people of Easdale Island, and ballasted by my unexpected swag, we (Moon Raker and I) crashed through the waves between Easdale and Pladda, flew down the Sound of Luing, took some dollops and a dusting in the Dorus Mor, and got home in time for tea.

I’m out of traction now and the sling is easing the throwing arm so I can thank all the people of Easdale Island for their hospitality and for organising such a super event. All being well, I’ll be back next year to defend my title – hopefully against a larger entry.

Tony Gill. (joint) World ‘Old Tosser’ Stone Skimming Champion 2008

PS. I got some video and I’ll post it as soon as I can get it edited.

This was the fifteenth year of Britain’s largest exhibition of bespoke, designer made furniture. Over the years it has built a reputation of excellence among clients and makers alike. To be invited to offer work for inclusion – and you have to be invited – means it’s considered your work is of a quality suitable to stand alongside some of the best designer/makers in the world. That’s good for the ego.

You can imagine, I was keen to go. I’d been invited for the ’07 event, but one has to have something to exhibit. The sole maker from Scotland who went came back with sales and orders that would have kept me going for a year. That experience persuaded three of us, all members of the Scottish Furniture makers Association (www.scottishfurnituremakers.org.uk) to make the journey this year.

It’s a long way, Cheltenham, and a different world. The streets weren’t paved with gold, but the people seemed to be plated with it. Thirlestaine Long Gallery, Cheltenham College, was the venue. I was interested to see the place. The daughter of a friend of mine was a student there and that gave me a sort of connection. She’s now a well known and successful TV personality. I don’t know her. Like a miniature Buckingham Palace, the Gallery is an impressive building outside and in. Yet for me its grandeur was tarnished by its timeworn exterior and equally grand, though rather grubby interior. It is a school hall mind you, so perhaps that’s to be expected.

The invitation only preview evening was packed solid with people enjoying each other’s company and the complimentary wine. Sales were made, but not by us, and there were some smiles but more glum faces at the end of the evening.

I stayed for the first weekend. Had SFMA’s Edinburgh exhibitions been as quiet as that first weekend in Cheltenham, we’d have been worried. It was quiet. The rest of the show can not have been any better. It was all still there at the end. Luckily my colleague had a van big enough for the both of us, so I only needed to drive to Helensburgh to retrieve my masterpieces.

So there we have it. On the plus side my work was well admired, I met many potential clients and not one of them said wistfully, ‘When I win the lottery’. I met several ‘famous name’ makers and they said nice things too, which always makes one feel good. On the other hand, I sold not a thing – and neither did any of the Scottish contingent. I’d show you pictures of the exhibition, but we weren’t allowed to take any – even the makers, of our own stuff. No video either - sorry Dave.

It must have been the credit crunch and falling house prices. That’s all I can think. I returned home from my journey to the deep south older, wiser and considerably poorer – and mindful of my father’s words from days long ago, ‘Tha’ wants to tek care wi’ them southern folk. The’s plenty of ‘em that’s all fur coat and no knickers.’

So that was Cheltenham CCD08. Tony Gill

Nancy is from San Francisco. Ardfern has worked its magic on her.

Tony was lucky enough to be assigned the interview team with Dee, Lynda and Mags Russell, who was without doubt our demon interviewer. Ace at extracting more than two words out of a chap building a shed; a long chat with two visitors from Glasgow; a local chap with a spotty dog and, a gift for any photographer, two small children and their attractive young mum talking on the bridge and playing in the river. Under the careful direction of the rest of the team the subject matter gave Tony the best shots of all, though not the one shown above.