News about Gordon Campbell

Winnie Ewing was both fashionable and terrifying. Many educated Glasgow vowels could burst with scorn; those wide-set eyes set in an instant could turn to slicking ice. I was often in her company. After a sad funeral, I sat beside her on a flight from Stornoway. Dined with her in Perth. Watched her work at a fundraiser in Inverness, holding court, pouring a massive glass of white wine like a ping-pong bat. Winnie Ewing performed a line or two of a wistful old song about Irish migrants once, just for me. She had a sweet voice.