Russell Crowe and the tale of three Charlies

editorial image

It was great to hear the fort at Duncarron is finally fully operational after years of blood – the fake film kind anyway – sweat and toil.

Charlie Allan and the Clanranald Trust gang literally fought and died for the ambitious project, taking part in battle scenes in major feature films and television shows since the turn of the century to help coin in cash to pour back into Duncarron.

Now its up and running my mind goes back in time – not quite as far back as the 11th century, but back to 2011 when The Falkirk Herald was invited along to see the progress of the fort and, of course, for the visit of Clanranald’s pal from Hollywood, the mighty Russell Crowe.

I took my son, who was just one and a bit at the time, along to enjoy the fun and ended up having to carry him on my shoulders for most of the day as we trekked up to the fort and wandered around the construction.

I couldn’t even get near Russell Crowe as all the other press folk talked to him and, cream crackered due to transporting the wee man around, I sat him down on the muddy ground and had a seat beside him.

“Who’s this little fella?” said a familiar voice.

It was Russell Crowe – the man who broke the back of that chair in LA Confidential with his bare hands – bending down talking to my son.

“It’s Charlie,” I said.

“I’ve got a little boy called Charlie,” he replied.

And that was it.

Wee Cheeky was neither up nor down and he still doesn’t really know who I’m talking about when I tell him he met Russell Crowe when he was a wee boy. Probably because Russell Crowe isn’t one of these screaming bloody YouTubers that he likes at the minute.

Fame sure is a fickle pickle.