Amble Stories - The Last King of Scotland

It was late March when I met the last King of Scotland on Amble board walk.

It was a sunny afternoon with a cold wind blowing across the board walk from the south-west. The tide was high and two seals kept bobbing up, poking their heads out of the water before diving. Walking towards me and also watching the seal were an odd couple. One of them was a young black lady midget less than four feet tall holding a go-pro camera on a stick to film the seals. The other was a middle-aged stocky man with a red round face with stubble topped off with a Newcastle United black and white woolly hat.

I greeted them both. The man explained to me in a thick Geordie accent that he had shown the young lady the seals and as they walked along the board walk they followed them.

“Ya,see, I has an affinity with seals. I danna kna what it is but they know me.”

The short lady smiled from ear to ear as she was filming them. She hadn’t seen seals before. We talked to her about the puffins on the island and boat trips and dolphins and she was fascinated. John (as I came to learn his name was), the Geordie, told her which buses to get from Newcastle to get to Witley Bay and Blythe and I said Newbiggen was a good spot to look for dolphins on a calm day. She made her excuses and padded off towards the harbour.

As she left, John shook her hand wishing her well and said to her as she left, “You can tell everyone you’ve met the King of Scotland.”

I thought nothing of this and put it down to Geordie humour. John then turned to chat to me.

“There’s something about Amble that draws me here. What do you think?”

“Aye there is,” I agreed.

“You see often I get up in the morning and go somewhere, but I frequently come here. I feel drawn to Amble. And there’s some lovely people that talk to me. I feel drawn to here. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yes I do”, I replied.

“Its like those seals. They follow me. They do at South Shields. I found one on the beach. Me and another bloke carried it into the sea. I walked along the shore, sat down on a rock, half an hour later that same seal came out of the sea and lay next to me to sleep. I told it, ‘You bugger I only just put you in the sea.’  So there I sat next to it making sure no-one went near it and folks kept their dogs on a lead until it woke up and returned to the sea.” He continued, “You see something draws me to Amble, me being here is meant to be. So I met that lovely young lady and yerself. You wouldn’t believe it, I was walking along this pier last week and a bloke was sat fishing just over that rail. I says hello to him and get talking then I twig we were mates 25 years ago and never seen each other since. He went to Ireland and was visiting fishing.”

“Was he from Wexford?” I asked

“Aye”, John replied, “How do you know that?”

“I had a wee chat with him about eider ducks and curlews as he put his dog into his camper van.”

“Aye, an Alsatian.”

“That’s right, old Alsatian cross.”

“Well, that’s amazing,” John said, “we met the same bloke on Amble pier. We went to school together then he went away 25 years ago and I heard nowt of him. He’s given me his details so that when I go over there we can meet up. That’s amazing. You see there’s something about Amble its more than coincidence. Why did you visit Amble today?” John asked.

“I live here, I moved here just over two years ago.”

“Did you feel drawn here? Could you feel it?”

At this point the conversation changed tack. John leaned into me and looked me straight in the face with his piercing blue eyes and said, “I’ll let you into a secret. I am John Stuart, I’m the real King of Scotland descended from James the First. I keep quiet about it, but everyone knows in government, the Queen and MI5. I’ve got the deed and the DNA and have the proof.”

John then went into detail of how this was so and how he was the real King of England and owned all the castles, pointing towards Warkworth, the army, the navy and the air force. I slowly walked back to the quayside listening to him. He had a unique perception of international affairs, especially America and Ukraine and how they fitted into his role. When I responded to him I had to stand still and face him as he was deaf in one ear he explained to me. This slowed up my pace somewhat, but he elaborated further on his kingship and the details of it, sometimes repeating himself and requiring a response which I gave appropriately and courteously, after all the King of Scotland deserves respect.

I asked him if he had ever been in the army or the forces. He explained he hadn’t but his son had and many of his friends had, including one that was disabled in Afghanistan. I wondered if his deafness might have been from a head injury, but did not ask him this. You don’t ask the King of Scotland if he’s had a knock on the bonce.

After nearly an hour to do a ten minute walk we arrived at the harbour and we shook hands to say our “goodbyes” and again he leaned in close and asked me in a thick Geordie accent, “What do you think I should do about Charles?”

I leaned into his good ear and said gently, “Just leave it and see how it plays out.”

He nodded and said, “Aye, perhaps you’re right. Ya reckon I should let it play out so I will.”

And thus my Royal encounter in Amble ended.

Amble board walk