I’m away from home, and so must have a falsely distinctive version of it. (“Thir’s a pig in ilka bed.”) Murray’s poems about Aberdeenshire were written from South Africa, and they’re funny and surprisingly brutal. Some jingoism too, unfortunately, though check out ‘Dockens Afore His Peers’ for subversion. He avoids the kailyard by focussing on tatties instead (the Classics, drunks and work-sore backs, over the lad o’ pairts and the light on the rapeseed).