Some souls move through this world like swans across still water—leaving only the softest rippling trail, yet their passing stirs something profound within us. These are the ones who feel too much, care too deeply, and walk lightly in a world too loud. Often misunderstood or overlooked, they quietly carry their music inside, a song the world may never hear. But their presence is essential. Their footprints—even faint—leave their mark on the sands of time. ARB

Fortingall Hotel, Perthshire 1953: The real journey begins.

^{Fortingall photos permissions: SC160598©Crown Copyright: HES (Records of the Scottish National Buildings Record, Edinburgh, Scotland}

⁂

Hello! Thank you for dropping by. I’m Alastair Barnett.

I was born in Scotland and have spent much of my life writing — first as a journalist and reviewer, and now as a memoirist. Over the years, I’ve written for newspapers and magazines in both North America and the UK, while spending decades working in the hospitality industry — often observing life from the quiet edge of a dining room or the heart of a Highland village.

A wintry day over Loch Tay, Perthshire, Scotland

What began as factual storytelling gradually shifted into something more reflective: memories, moments, and the encounters that leave their mark. I write not only to remember, but to understand — to revisit places like Fearnan, Fortingall, Aberfeldy, and Pitlochry; later Kent, London, New York, and Los Angeles; and the people who shaped those years.

Much of my writing returns to the Highlands of my childhood — the white-capped waves on Loch Tay, the narrow roads between Kenmore and Killin, and the wartime years when I was evacuated from Glasgow to the countryside. These are the roots of my memoir, Footsteps: A Boy’s Journey from a Highland Hotel, and of many of the stories I continue to explore.

Now based in Canada, I still write about Scottish life, post-war boyhood, and the hospitality world that carried me forward. If you enjoy true stories, quiet humour, and a touch of nostalgia for mid-century Scotland, I’m glad you’re here.

---

---