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About Leicester

Picture this, yeah – it’s winter, I’m haulin’ cargo, trucks rollin’ smooth, then BAM, hoar frost hits like a villain! This icy fuzz creeps on my windshields, my crates, my whole damn operation – a real shag-up! I’m yellin’, “This is not my bag, baby!” – it’s like Monsieur Gustave screamin’ about lobby boys slackin’ off. I’m pissed, man, ‘cos this hoar ain’t just sparkly snow – it’s a ninja, stickin’ to everythin’, slowin’ my boys down. Little known fact, dig this: hoar comes from old English “har,” meanin’ gray and ancient – it’s like frost with a pension plan, been messin’ with transport since the Dark Ages, yeah!

Gallery: 35 archive photos of life in Portlethen in the 1980s

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As the night rolls on, I’m feeling pretty good. I mean, it’s been a rollercoaster. From the rain to bingo, it’s like life’s throwing curveballs, and I’m just trying to hit a home run. I walk back home, the streets are quiet, and I can hear the waves crashing. Portlethen’s got this vibe, you know? It’s chill but full of surprises.

Schoolboy tries on prize-winning cardboard crown in front of the King