I'm outta here...

Hello and thanks for visiting my blog. I'm not currently updating this page, instead you'll find my current articles and blog posts as well as a comprehensive archive of all my work as well as my website. www.roryauskerry.com Thanks for all your support and I do hope you'll check out my site. Thanks, Rory

Flying Sheep

Despite growing up on a sheep farm, I can’t say I’ve ever wanted to pursue a career involving animals. As a youngster my parents tried to encourage me to take an active interest in the sheep flock by giving me one of my own, a beautifully coloured North Ronaldsay ewe, which I named Sunshine. Every one of our Rollie flock, as they are called by many local folk, is unique in colour. Their coats are coloured in every possible shade of grey, brown and black. As well as her beautiful colouring, Sunshine was a particularly tame sheep, and when she gave birth at lambing time, she was happy to stand and watch as I cuddled her new-born lamb. I enjoyed watching him grow up, and when it was time to ship the lambs for sale at the auction mart in Kirkwall I was both sad to see him go and excited at the prospect of him making a tidy profit to supplement my pocket money. Before mum and dad decided to begin rearing a flock of the rare breed North Ronadalsay sheep, we had the traditional white cheviot sheep, seen all over Orkney. They are much bigger than their cousins from North Ronaldsay, and are far less hardy. They need to lamb indoors and often require quite a lot of help to give birth. As a result, just before the beginning of lambing each May, we would pack our belongings, food, bedding and fuel onto the trailer and move down to the lighthouse at the south end of Auskerry. We would set up home in what used to be one of the light keepers houses so that we were near to the sheep pens, and the lambing shed.

I always hated this arrangement. The rooms in the lighthouse are big, dark, cold and echoe. As we had no electricity, we used paraffin lamps to provide us with light but they are fiddly not very bright so the place was always dingy and filled with spooky, flickering shadows. When the weather was bad the wind would howl as it blew around the adjacent lighthouse tower and the doors and windows would whistle and rattle - a combination I found pretty scary. All of this, coupled with the fact that I was away from most of my home comforts in our cosy house at the North end of the island meant that I found it hard to settle in. I was still young enough that I didn’t like it when mum and dad had to go up the hill or across the field to the lambing shed to check on the sheep, leaving me and my younger brother Owen alone in the house, even though we could see them. I think the dread, associated with this annual month of discomfort and upheaval, made me resent the sheep as they were ultimately the reason behind it. Occasionally we would be visited by engineers from the Northern Lighthouse Board, who would often arrive on the island by helicopter. This to me was hugely exciting. From the first time I saw the bright red BO-105 chopper up close, and could smell the jet fuel from is hot exhaust I was captivated. I began to read books about helicopters, draw pictures and spend hours flying my model chopper around the steading. If I got the chance I would talk to the pilots as they waited around for the engineers to carry out their work, and I remember vividly the first time I were taken up for a trip around the island.

I’m still very interested in helicopters, and I would love to get my pilot’s licence one day. Back in June, we were paid a visit from Princess Anne, who is the patron of Scottish Lighthouses. She accompanied the NLB commissioners on their annual visit to the island, spending an hour looking around the lighthouse, climbing the tower and chatting to us. It was very exciting to have royalty on our island, and the Princess was very down to earth and easy to talk to. As well as the obvious excitement as we waited for our royal visitor, I was also thinking about exactly how she would arrive. For the last couple of years the NLB have been using an EC-135 helicopter, the modern replacement for the B0-105. This was to be my first glimpse of the new chopper, and as I stood in front of the lighthouse watching the red speck emerged through the mist, my heart began to race just as it had throughout my childhood. Eventually Mum and Dad decided there were too many complications associated with keeping the cheviot sheep on Auskerry. As well as difficulties at lambing time, they were not well suited to spending time on the beach, they quite often got stuck on their backs or in amongst the island’s many peat bogs. This would leave them prey to vicious attacks by black back gulls and bonxies. As a result, Dad bought some ewes and a tup from the native flock on North Ronaldsay and we started our own flock on Auskerry. As the numbers of Rollies grew each year, we reduced the size of the cheviot flock until all we had were the much hardier Rollies.

During my rebellious teens, I was adamant that I didn’t want to have anything to with the sheep. However, I knew that I had to pull my weight with the family chores. As a means of avoiding helping with clipping, dipping or worming I would offer to go home after the gathering was completed and cook a meal. I’d make scones and fresh cakes, or cook lunch – anything to avoid working the sheep. I think I thought I was being quite clever, but with hind sight I think everyone else was glad to have something nice on the table to look forward to when they returned from a hard day at the sheep pens. I’ll soon be returning to Auskerry for a few days - at the height of the clipping season. I will be packing my recipe books.

Shipwrecked On Auskerry

I find it ironic that during the last century, nearly all the incidents that I know of involving boats becoming grounded on Auskerry, have happened right below the lighthouse, which was built to prevent shipwrecks in the mid 1860’s. The most notable of these, (and the only one that did not eventually make it back to sea) was the 116-meter cargo ship SS Hastings County, which ran ashore in fog on the 13th of June 1926. The 4,178 ton cargo ship was travelling past Orkney, en route from Hamburg to Montreal when she struck the Hunters Riffs, a shallow rocky area about 300 yards from Auskerry’s Southern shore. She was carrying a mixed cargo including children’s toys and a large quantity of coal. A great deal of her cargo was salvaged, including two luxury yachts that were stowed on her deck. However, on September 26th a fire broke out in the aft hold and an easterly gale on October 25th finally broke up the ship.

Large parts are still visible to this day, including the piston shafts, which stand defiant against the destructive power of the sea. One of the boilers, some jagged sheets of riveted steel and even the propeller shaft still remain on the rocky shore below the lighthouse. Each winter, during the worst of the storms many of these vast lumps of rusty metal move slightly – a reminder of what the sea is capable of. The Hastings County wreck played its own part in almost claiming another vessel. In the 1970’s a small trawler from Mainland Scotland ran aground on the South Coast of Auskerry. A fishery cruiser and the Customs and Excise launch both heard the mayday calls, and made their way to the scene along with the Kirkwall Lifeboat, Grace Paterson Ritchie. One of the lifeboat crew was having dinner with the skipper of a Scapa Flow tug boat when his pager went off. Both men rushed to join their boats, the tug skipper scenting the possibility of salvage money.

It was a calm night with no sea running and as the boats approached the stricken trawler the team aboard the lifeboat made the decision that there was no immediate danger to the trawler. They would therefore hold off making a move until daylight when the tide would be flooding again. However, a larger trawler had also heard the mayday call, and when it arrived on the scene, her skipper got on the radio to the Lifeboat; “I’ve got lots of horsepower, I’ll easily pull her off,” he said. The Coxswain responded, telling the large trawler’s skipper not to go any closer because there were lots of boats in the area and that they were waiting until daylight. The large trawler responded by saying that he could see all the vessels on radar. He then steamed through all the boats, past the lifeboat, and ran aground on the rocks just south of the original casualty. It turned out that the skipper had mis- identified the specks on his radar, believing the Lifeboat to be the casualty vessel and the Fishery Cruiser to be the Lifeboat. As daylight dawned, there were now 5 vessels at Auskerry, with a Scapa Flow tug on its way. The lifeboat went under the stern of the larger trawler and passed a towline to the crew. The coxswain then instructed the skipper via radio that if they managed to pull the vessel away from the rocks, he was not to start her engines until they were well clear because there was a danger of hitting the submerged wreck of the Hastings County.

As the lifeboat pulled the trawler away from the rocks, the skipper panicked, started the engines and pulled the lifeboat backwards over the wreck. Luckily the lifeboat was undamaged, but the trawler struck its rudder and lost the ability to steer. Like the stricken WW2 battleship ‘Bismark’, the trawler was now only able to steam around in circles. The fishery cruiser towed the damaged trawler back to Kirkwall leaving the lifeboat crew on scene to continue the rescue of the original smaller trawler. Now at the scene, the tugboat skipper asked the lifeboat to pass a line to the small trawler, which had ebbed completely dry on the rocks. The tug then pulled her down the rocks, causing some damage to her steel deck as the tow fixings were pulled from their mounts. After towing the trawler back the Kirkwall, it was discovered that the trawler was about to go bankrupt and under writ, so the tug company could not get any salvage money. It is said that the tug’s skipper got into trouble for taking the tug out of the flow without permission. A separate incident occurred when a boat got lost in fog and the same Kirkwall Lifeboat went out looking for them. This time the Grace Paterson Richie ran ashore on Auskerry, tearing a hole in her hull where the fuel tanks were. Initially the crew thought she was a write off but she managed to stay afloat. However, without power, due to the damage to the fuel tanks, the lifeboat had to be towed back to Kirkwall by a fishing trawler, which had come to her aid. The most recent incident on Auskerry involved a Norwegian yacht which ran aground on the southern tip of the island in the early hours of the morning. The current Kirkwall lifeboat, ‘Margaret Foster’ came out and managed to tow her off the rocks. Ironically the first that we knew about this incident was when Dad heard about it on Radio Orkney! By the time he got to the Lighthouse to see the stricken Yacht the tide was already on the turn and the crew were not close enough to talk to. However, Dad had seen the yacht approaching the island the night before and had thought that the vessel looked “very close to the lighthouse”. He reported that it was a clear night and the lighthouse was definitely working, doing its job to alert passing mariners to those same treacherous rocks…

Keeping It Real with Rory Auskerry - February 2012

I watched with great interest the coverage of the pre Christmas storms which reeked havoc to transport services and caused a great deal of damage to property and infrastructure across Orkney. It got me thinking about my childhood experiences of severe weather on Auskerry.

As you know, what the weather is doing is very important to life on an island throughout the year, but during the October to March period on a particularly remote island such as Auskerry it often becomes critical. I remember being woken in the small hours to help haul our 16-foot fibreglass dingy away from the beach as the jaws of a raging South Easterly storm threatened to snatch her from it.

I also remember spending many hours watching in awe as local fishermen struggled to maintain a footing on their heaving decks as they tried to rescue their creels. On those occasions the expression ‘seeing red’, referred to our view of a boats red anti fouling paint, which would often become visible along with parts of the propeller and rudder.

All this was a normal part of winter life there as up until about the age of 13 my family of 5 lived on the island for the vast majority of the year, only leaving in December to spend the Christmas period on Stronsay. I would attend the school for a few weeks either side of Christmas and we would also go on a family holiday down south or sometimes abroad.

Getting off Auskerry at that time of year was always fraught with difficulty. We had to pack up everything we would need in Stronsay for the time we’d be away, as well as leave the house in sort of hibernated state while we were absent. We would then liaise with a local fisherman who would come and fetch us when there was a break in the weather. The island is usually very wet and muddy in December, and it was not unusual for the tractor and trailer laden with all our stuff to get stuck on route to the pier at the South end of the island.

However, I remember one departure with particular clarity, as it was probably one of the most exciting experiences of my childhood. We had been enduring a particularly windy December and with Christmas only days away we were getting increasingly concerned we might have to spend it on the island. In the 35 years my parents have lived on Auskerry, they have never spent a Christmas there. I don’t think the idea of trying to celebrate with three young children without receiving any fresh supplies or mail from the mainland was a popular one.

Luckily for us, the relentless wet weather had rendered the grass airstrip on North Ronaldsay unusable by the Islander aircraft, so the council had hired a helicopter to keep the inter island air service running. On the 16th of December, Mum spoke to councillor Hugh Halcrow Johnson who agreed that if we contributed to the cost, they would help us out by sending the chopper to pick us up.

I’ve already written about my obsession with helicopters so you can imagine my excitement when two days later we heard the blue and white Sikorsky approaching the island. It landed right beside the house, on top of the beach in fact, so that it didn’t sink into the wet peaty ground. Given the unusual circumstances, local journalist David Heartly and photographer Ken Amer had come out with the chopper to interview us for the Grampian TV news. In a article David wrote for a Scottish newspaper at the time, the chopper pilot John Baker was quoted as saying; “It’s not everyday that you’re called to evacuate a family for Christmas, but they ask very little of the outside world.”

This all happened in 1998, when I was only 10 but I can still remember it very clearly. You can imagine that for me, a youngster with a very keen interest in helicopters, it felt like Christmas had landed a week early! I suspect nothing as exciting will happen to me this year, although now that we live out in the country there’s a chance I may get snowed in yet.

Keeping It Real with Rory Auskerry - January 2012

The big move North has been almost two years in the making for me, and a lot longer for many others who were involved from the planning stage. Along with my Radio 5 Live colleagues I’ve now completed my relocation to the brand new BBC building in Salford.

Our new offices are in Quay House, which is right beside the Manchester ship canal. It’s bright, open, well laid out and I am finding it generally a much nicer place to work than in the old buildings in London.

There’s been a lot to get used to in general, and an awful lot of new stuff to learn on the technical side of things. Most of the equipment is pretty unfamiliar, so there’s been quite a lot of training going on. As the new year rolls in I am starting to feel like I’m getting to grips with the new kit now - that is good.

I don’t know whether its due to the improved layout of the building, or the fact that we can see water from every window which makes for a much more relaxed atmosphere, but I have found that everyone is chattier here. It’s often said that people from the North of England are friendlier than in the South. I’m not sure that’s necessarily accurate, but I think its definitely fair to say that people in London are not usually very keen to engage in conversation with strangers or even people they know a little. I believe that the kind of ‘keep yourself to yourself’ attitude, which prevails in the capital, was perhaps unwittingly brought into work by staff and contributors.

In Manchester the attitude is pleasantly different. Walking around in town people look at you, they make eye contact and smile. If someone almost walks into you, rather than look away and move on, they apologise. As is the norm in Orkney, shop staff are keen to engage in conversation. This almost inevitably filters into the work environment. It’s quite astonishing really, to have been working with people for months in London and barely exchanged pleasantries, then to come here and find yourself chatting about houses, their kids and holiday plans while making a brew in the communal kitchen. One producer even said to me after we’d been chatting for a few minutes, “we’d never be doing this in London would we!”

Another big milestone for me was buying my first car. My girlfriend and I are living with one of our best friends, who lives in a small village about 20 miles north of central Manchester. Al is also a Studio Manager, in fact it was he and his girlfriend who went on holiday with us to Naples earlier this year. It’s lovely being out in the countryside.

The view from our back windows is not at all dissimilar to a typical Orkney view, perhaps somewhere in the West mainland. There are a couple of small trees, which look as if they regularly take a battering from the wind, and a nicely built dry stone dyke covered in lichen, whilst in the distance there are hills providing a little bit of lee for the sheep in the fields below them. Quite a change from our old flat where the ‘view’ mostly consisted of a busy road and a direct line of sight into several of our opposite neighbour’s living rooms.

So far our W-reg VW Golf is running nicely. Admittedly we did have to call the AA out twice in our first week of membership, first for a 1am bump start and later to get the battery replaced, as it wasn’t taking any charge. I suppose you have to accept things like that with cheap old cars. It takes me about half an hour to drive into work, which isn’t too bad really. The stereo in the car is probably the best thing about it so I can enjoy some loud rock music while I’m stuck in ‘crosstown traffic’.

I will be back in Orkney for a large part of this month to spend some time with my family, and catch up with old friends. I’d like to take this opportunity to wish you a very prosperous and happy New Year!

Keeping It Real with Rory Auskerry - December 2011

By the time this magazine hits your coffee table I’ll already be in Manchester, working in the BBC’s brand new building at Salford Quays. However, as I write this, I’m becoming acutely aware that my remaining days in London are numbered. In fact, I’ve got about a week left here, before I load the van I’ve hired to drive myself and my stuff to the North of England.

I’m very excited. I’ve been looking forward to making this move for almost two years, but now that it’s finally on the horizon, I’m starting to think of what I’ll miss about London. It’s been a steep learning curve living somewhere so big after growing up in Orkney. When I first arrived, I found it all quite overwhelming and there were days when I wasn’t sure if I’d manage to cope with it. It’s just so different from what I was used to back home, and even my city experience at University in Sunderland seemed insignificant in comparison to the vastness of London.

As I settled into the job and made friends, things got easier and I started to feel that I would manage ok. After a few months passed I began to understand the attitude of Londoners themselves. I became confident using the public transport system and I felt like I was really getting to know the areas in which I lived and worked.

I think it must take a while to get used to anywhere that is unfamiliar, but I still think London is in a league of its own, within the UK at least. I’m expecting to go through many of these ‘newbie’ emotions over the coming weeks as I get settled in Manchester, but I’m convinced it will be easier for two main reasons. For one thing I’m down sizing quite significantly – from being one of over 7 million in London to one of under half a million in Manchester. The second, and probably the most significant, is that I’m moving with a group of colleagues and friends who are in the same situation as me. It’s going to be new and exciting for all of us, and the fact that we’ll be getting to know the city together will inevitably make it easier and more enjoyable.

I’ve spent almost two years in London working in two buildings neither of which are likely to be occupied by the BBC for much longer. Next year, the various staff and departments that have not been relocated to Salford - including Radio 4 - will move out of Television Centre back to Broadcasting house in the heart of London. Their World Service colleagues from Bush House will also join them. It means that when I leave after my last shift, I’ll be leaving behind a piece of BBC history that will more than likely be just a memory when I next visit London.

Members of the public can apply to be taken on a free tour of Television Centre and I’d recommend that you go on one if you get the chance. It’s an iconic building full of memorabilia from all kinds of popular BBC programmes and shows. You’ll be shown the TV studios which over the years have been used to create shows and diverse as Strictly Come Dancing, Jools Holland, Room 101 and Not The Nine O’ Clock News - you even get the chance to try your hand at presenting a TV weather report!

Although many of the friends I’ve made in the capital are also making the move North, there are plenty who aren’t and I will miss them a lot. Now that I’ve lived in London I won’t be worried if for any reason I decide to move back for work in the future. It’ll be nice to live close to the countryside for a while though, and I’m already looking forward to my next trip to Orkney, which will be in early January.

I hope the festive period and the New Year brings excitement, prosperity and happiness to you all. I also hope it brings a few more Doonie wins in the Ba’. Happy Christmas!

Keeping It Real with Rory Auskerry - November 2011

Goodbyes and ‘the end’ of things are often sad and difficult events. The last day at school or university, leaving home or a job you enjoyed, the end of a holiday or the demise of a relationship can all be less than happy experiences. I have had to cope with some reasonably tough adjustments in my life over the last wee while. My girlfriend, fellow Orcadian Lizi Pendrey has moved out. I'm pleased to say this is not because of anything I've done, but because she has landed a new job as a Journalist. The only problem is that the job is based in Edinburgh, not in Manchester, which is where I will be relocating to in a couple of months time. This is largely great news as she has been looking for this kind of work for months in London without much luck. However, we've both got used to each others company and we were looking forward to finding a new flat together in Manchester when my job with Radio 5 Live moved North.

I must admit that I wasn't overly keen for her to accept the job to begin with, but after discussing it with Lizi as well as with family and friends, I came to the conclusion that it was probably a good move in the long term. I've been very fortunate that my career has started off pretty well, and I'm very lucky to already be working in the industry that I’d like to succeed in. Lizi has not been so lucky, in fact journalism jobs for university graduates appear to be about as rare as rocking horse manure.

We both think that aged 23, and without wedding rings, kids or a mortgage, now is the time to take some risks in order to try and get our careers onto a good trajectory for the future. It's far from ideal as you can imagine. The distance between Manchester and Edinburgh is over 200 miles, which will take more than 4 hours to drive. Add that to the fact that because of my shifts, we don't often have days off at the same time. Living apart when you've grown used to having someone there all the time is difficult, and it's giving me a greater empathy with folk who's work means they spend prolonged periods of time away from loved ones.

As you’d expect, I’ve have had a fair amount of time to contemplate since Lizi left. I’ve come to the conclusion that I will just have to keep myself busy, and with a bit of luck the next few months of being apart will pass by quite quickly. I’m very fortunate to have a fantastic group of friends around me, many of whom are also in long distance relationships. I also have various other projects outside of work that I’d like to spend more time on.

The main one of these ‘extra curricular’ activities I’m involved in is voiceover work. I’ve been interested in the industry for several years, and as I researched more about it, the more I came to realise that it might be something I could turn my hand to. It’s a notoriously difficult industry to break into because clients tend to find voiceover artists they like, then use them over and over again. It is also a job which has become cool and trendy, thanks to the prominence of voiceover artists like Pete Dickson who’s ‘massive’ voice can be heard introducing the performers on TV shows like the X-Factor and Britains Got Talent. Others include Dave Lamb, who's dry humour spices up the entertainment factor on Channel 4’s hit show ‘Come Dine With Me’, and Mark Halliley, the narrator of ‘The Apprentice’ on BBC One.

Having said this, I have been impersonating teachers, celebrities and politicians since my teens and I like to think I’ve a decent range of voices that I’m fairly good at. (People certainly used to laugh at me at school, but perhaps the less said about that the better.) Anyway, I’ve made a demo featuring many the voices I can do, signed up to several voiceover agency websites and the work has started to come in which is great. I don’t think I’ll be making millions anytime soon, but it’s good fun and if my client list continues to grow at the rate it has been I should make a few quid by Christmas.