I can’t remember exactly when I first met and got to know Tom, but in my mind the answer is quite simply; “for ever.”
It must have been in Babbities on Saturdays, or maybe at a festival, I can’t quite recollect but it certainly was 30 or 40 years ago and seems like “for ever.”
One of my most favourite things in the world to do has always been to be jumping on a train to Glasgow, on Saturday afternoon, after lunch and especially in the winter. I would walk slowly from Queen Street Station, through George Square, along Ingram Street, admiring the beautiful architecture of The Merchant City and especially The Italian Centre, round into Blackfriar’s Street and pausing. A slow walk along to Babbities just as the darkness was falling and to hear the distant strains of the music greeting me in the street and getting ever louder as I approached. Going through that front door to the physical and human warmth always touched me and a big part of that feeling of belonging was Tom Laurie, sitting on his stool at the bar with a huge welcoming smile on his face for me.
For someone who has always felt somewhat of an outsider, Tom let me know that, I quite simply, belonged. He also understood.
A Saturday afternoon in Babbities wouldn’t be complete without a song from Tom.
“What a voice, oh what a voice!” I know he could have been a professional singer and when he was younger, I think he was offered this chance but Tom being Tom, put his family first and didn’t give up the day job. His singing was an inspiration and there was nothing like Tom, with an egoless humility silencing the pub with whichever gem he chose, and he was a master with his choice. I remember maybe suggesting a song and after reading the mood of the bar, may say, “naw son, that yins no quite right” One of my abiding memories was this charming man going round the ladies of the bar and kissing their hands when he sang that verse in “Caledonia”. In time I was honoured to be asked to accompany him on the small pipes and we soon both found our favourites. He loved singing with the pipes and I loved playing for his singing. Nothing beat The Freedom Come All Ye. Tom’s interpretation of it, the magnificent tune and the words which we both adored, the sentiments shared of our aspirations for an independent Scotland, of inclusivity, internationalism, egalitarianism and outward looking perspective on the world.
Through these times in Babbities, of sharing our music and the more we got to know each other the more we shared. Such happy and inspirational times.
His political views he held passionately and knew instinctively that the only way to independence had to be culture led; and he did lead, always with amazing ideas and projects; St. Andrews Day festival in Bute, A traditional music festival at Traquair House, Galgael in Govan and me teaching pipe making and forming a Galgael Pipe Band. These are just a few that we were currently working on.
Now, I must recount just some of the highlights of precious memories.
European style multiple course lunches with excellent French wine either in Edinburgh, Dunkeld, or at his home in Glasgow always with his lovely wife and muse, Jen. The craick, the food and wine, the songs, stories and music and of course the political debates.
Many, too many to mention, projects of cultural importance.
A trip to St. Malo in Normandy, via Jersey, to watch the French/Scottish rugby match on a telly in a French Hotel ! A magnificent lunch in a working man’s bar in which through Tom and Fraser’s French, their camaraderie, me playing a waltz on the pipes, he ended up dancing with Madam of the house after lunch while we all finished the meal with the best of Normandy Calvados.
His unique and all-important role in Barga. Every afternoon about 4 pm Tom and Jen would be sitting outside Aristos Bar, the cultural centre of Barga, patiently waiting for everyone from classes to gather and settle in for a couple of hours of singing and music making in Piazza Comunale. Tom led these sessions in the most understated of ways and always made sure that everyone had a turn.
The Galway Shawl – I’ll never forget the year in Barga when everyone was struggling with the inadequate PA system, and it was his turn to sing, walking into the middle of the crowd, eschewing The PA and captivating Barga with his beautiful and powerful voice and The Galway Shawl.
The Babbities annual outing to Moniaive when we would settle in to the homely bar of The George Hotel. Tom would ensure that Willie Devine, originally from Donegal, had a seat at the table and treat us to a song or two.
There are countless memories, of laughs, songs, tunes and so many stories over the years. I will carry these for ever and it will keep Tom close.
Tom Laurie adored his lovely wife Jen and her importance in all of his life made it possible for him to be the person he was.
He had the most beautiful tenor voice with a unique timbre which could be both gentle and powerful.
He was loving and welcoming and always had a smile on his face.
Tom was probably the best story teller I have ever met; a complete natural, and I can still feel his hand tapping on my arm as we walked, beckoning me to stop in the middle of the pavement, and listen to the rest of which ever story he was telling.
Tom loved Europe and in particular France, the Auld Alliance, speaking French and engaging as a citizen of Europe and Ecosse. This was so important to him as a true internationalist.
His love of Scotland was passionate but always conditional on the fact we, as a country were welcoming, inclusive, internationalist in outlook and egalitarian. What a beautiful outlook and an example for the rest of our country.
Tom Laurie, I just assumed that you would go on forever, I will miss you, you were a constant inspiration for me and quite simply; my best pal; but Tom; you’ll now be “Rolling Home”
Here’s a few lines for you Tom.
Roch the wind in the clear day’s dawin,
Blaws the cloods heilster gowdie ower the bay,
But there’s mair nor a roch wind blawin,
Through the great glen o’ the world the day,
It’s a thoucht that will gar oor rottens,
A’ they rogues that gang gallus, free and gay,
Tak the road and seek ither loanins,
For their ill ploys, tae sport and play.Nar mare will the bonnie callants,
Mairch tae war, when oor braggats crousely craw,
Nor we weans frae pit-heid and clachan
Mourn the ships sailing doon The Broomielaw.
Broken faimlies in lands we’ve herriet,
Will curse Scotland the Brave nae mare nae mare,
Black and white ain till ither mairriet,
Mak the vile barracks o’ their maisters bare.So come all ye at hame wi’ freedom,
Never heed whit the hoodies croak for doom.
In yer hoose a’ the bairns o’ Adam,
Can find breid, barley bree and painted room.
When MacLean meets wi’ his freens in Springburn,
A’ the roses and geans will turn tae bloom,
And the black boy frae yont Nyanga,
Dings the fell gallows o’ the burghers doon.———— ————- ———–
And there’s a hand my trusty feire,
And gie’us a hand o’ thine,
And we’ll tak a richt gude willie waucht,
For Auld Lang Syne.
H.M. 28/12/2020.
