By Emma Wylde
Donald Fraser loved working for the Dundee and Newtyle Railway Company. He wore his burgundy uniform with pride, and each night polished his brass badge so that the words “Ticket Inspector” shone out clearly.
He had been just a lad when Sir Bouch (or just plain Thomas Bouch back then, Donald supposed) had begun building the bridge across the Tay. He would rush back from school each day, thunder up the stairs to his attic bedroom in the little Dundee terrace and eagerly peer out of his window, desperate to see what progress had been made on this miraculous structure. His mammy cuffed him round the head if she caught him using that word, “Only God makes miracles, Donny,” she’d say, but in his heart he knew it was true, that this bridge was a miracle made by Mr Bouch. [Read more…] about The Bridge