As the final hours of 2025 ticked away, a journalist found himself contrasting two very different viewing experiences, one a televised staple of the season and the other a deeply personal rediscovery that challenged notions of national identity.
A Hogmanay of Familiar Clichés
The evening began with BBC Scotland's Hogmanay 2025 presentation, hosted by Amy Irons. While competently delivered, the programme felt like a checklist of Scottish stereotypes. From a rendition of 'Flower of Scotland' and a cover of Dougie MacLean's 'Caledonia' to the anticipated lone piper at Edinburgh Castle and the midnight fireworks, every trope was present. It culminated, inevitably, in the communal singing of 'Auld Lang Syne'.
This annual ritual, the writer reflected, is built on the assumption that this narrow set of symbols perfectly captures Scottishness at the turn of the year. For viewers who also hold a British identity dear, there was no acknowledgment of that layered aspect of their lives. The broadcast presented a version of Scotland that seemed to exist in a vacuum on December 31st.
A Personal Time Capsule: Grandad's 'This Is Your Life'
The earlier, and far more captivating, experience was a private screening of a 30-minute family film from May 1982. The footage, newly discovered, documented the 65th birthday party of the writer's grandfather, Fred Brocklebank, in Aberdeen.
The party was orchestrated in the style of the popular TV show This Is Your Life. Fred arrived at his daughter Averill's house expecting a small gathering, unaware that a room next door was filled with surprise guests from his past. The writer's father, then a senior figure at Grampian TV, took on the hosting role, wielding the iconic big red book.
The production was a family affair. The writer, aged 14, was the soundman, cueing the theme music. His ten-year-old cousin Nicola displayed photographs, and his 15-year-old brother Andrew operated the camera. What they captured was a priceless piece of family history.
The Unfolding Story of a British War Hero
The film revealed the extraordinary life of Fred Brocklebank. Born in Hull in 1917, he grew up in Melbourne, East Riding of Yorkshire. He joined the RAF in Leeds in 1935 and qualified as an air gunner in 1938, with his instructor noting his 'exceptional' ability.
In 1939, he was posted to RAF Leuchars in Fife, north of the border for the first time. When war broke out, the 6ft 4in airman manned the gun turret of a Lockheed Hudson, flying dangerous missions over German-occupied Norway. The footage disclosed that in July 1940, he shot down a Messerschmitt 109 over Stavanger while under attack from three enemy aircraft.
It was in St Andrews that he met his future wife, Nancy, introduced by a WAAF volunteer named Eleanor Black—who remarkably appeared as a guest at the 1982 party. After the war, Fred settled in Scotland, raising a family. Watching decades later, the writer was struck by a profound realisation: most of the family in the room that day, himself included, owed their existence to his grandfather's skill and survival in that July 1940 dogfight.
Identity Forged in Shared History
The party film was a tapestry of connections spanning Britain: wartime comrades, old neighbours, Aberdeen friends, and Fred's brother Len, who had never left Yorkshire. The emotion of the night was palpable, and the writer recalls it as the only time he saw his grandfather tipsy.
This personal archive spoke more powerfully about identity than any Hogmanay cliché. The writer defines himself as the grandson of Fred, a Yorkshireman and war hero, who married a Fife woman and built a life in Scotland. His existence, and thus his identity, is fundamentally rooted in the Britain that men like his grandfather risked everything to protect.
Reflecting on a recent YouGov poll finding that only 42% of 18–24 year olds are proud of the Armed Forces, the writer contrasts this with his own enduring pride. At 14 in 1982, he was proud of his grandad. Today, decades after Fred's passing, that pride is even greater, rekindled by the rediscovery of a film where he smiles, gloriously alive, surrounded by the family his bravery made possible.
