Do you have an Alexandra Bridge story to top mine?

"Alexandra Bridge – a suspension footbridge built by the Rose Street Foundry of Inverness in 1902, with a span of approximately 50 metres, a wooden deck supported by steel cables and hangers, and pairs of lattice-steel pylons at each end, each adorned with an ornate finial. This suspension bridge carries a footbridge over the River Tain immediately above its debouchment into the Dornoch Firth. It gives access to Tain Golf Course…"

Did you know what a debouchment was?

I expect my mother hadn’t heard of the word either – when she changed into a sari and applied heavy oriental makeup (much to the ticket collector’s astonishment) in the loo of an Inverness to Tain train in 1950.

My mother’s father was a tea planter in Ceylon (Sri Lanka) and thus, like so many children of British people scattered across the then British Empire, she came into this world far from our rainy shores here in the northern Atlantic.

An interesting passing note, you might think, except that it is pertinent to the tale I am about to tell.

But first a health warning.

These days certain words that were formerly used to describe people of non-European birth are rightly considered unacceptable. A good example of this is the word "golly" which was discontinued by Robertson Jams in 2002.

At the time the company’s brand editor said: "We are retiring Golly because we found families with kids no longer necessarily knew about him. We are not bowing to political correctness but, like with any great brand, we have to move with the times."

Hmmm, well maybe that wasn’t the whole story. Anyway another of these words is "darkie" and I hope that my health warning and the forthcoming context of its occurrence will render it innocuous to sensitive readers of the Northern Times. Heaven knows, I do not seek to offend.

Word got round Tain in 1950 that my father was dating a girl "from the south". Later, and goodness knows how, further word crept out – that the girl had in fact been born in Ceylon – and might well be – you know, a darkie.

I am told that in 1950, in a small Highland town, the possibility was of interest; and also some well-intentioned merriment – not least in the town’s various hostelries.

My mother, living down in deepest England, was missing her Highland boyfriend, and therefore thought that it would be romantic to make her way to Tain, for the very first time, and pay a surprise visit on him "in his cow byre". Having heard of the Tain interest in her place of birth and her possible ethnicity, she felt that romance could be seasoned with real surprise. That was why she changed into a sari on the Tain train.

"I am looking for Mr Stone’s cow byre!"

But when she followed the startled porter’s directions, she found that Mr Stone was not in his cow byre. In fact no-one seemed to know where he was. So, somewhat disconsolate by this time, she took herself off to a pretty bridge that she had earlier caught a glimpse of from Tain station – the aforementioned Alexandra Bridge. There, beautiful in her sari and makeup, she leant over the bridge’s railings and swung back and forth over the River Tain.

Then suddenly there was a rustling in the whins by the Tain end of the bridge – and up stood local solicitor Alec McTavish and the town’s "brew" man, Willie Holmes.

My mother tells me that she later found out that, alerted by concerned local people, they had been following her since shortly after her arrival in Tain – and the reason that they had suddenly made their presence known was that they had concluded that for own safety my mother should be "committed", to use the language of the time. Minutes later my future father showed up.

"I knew that it was you all along!" he said.

I tell the story for a specific purpose.

Tain’s beautiful Alexandra Bridge, the bridge that is part of Stone family folklore, is at long last going to be restored to its former 1902 glory (and that is why it will shortly be closed for use by pedestrians).

The fact that this work is going to happen, that the amount of money to pay for this work has been raised, is due to the sterling efforts of Tain Community Council and Highland councillors Alasdair Rhind and Fiona Robertson. On the big day when the silk tape is cut and the restored bridge is opened, all involved will have good cause to be proud.

Should readers have any tales about our old bridge, or photographs or other memorabilia, then the Highland Council would be most interested to hear and take note. Any thoughts that readers have can be emailed to me at Jamie.stone.cllr@highland.gov.uk – all contributions gratefully received.

("Debouchment" – the mouth of the river where the water flows out to the sea. I’m so glad my mother didn’t jump.)