I met Leslie 20 years ago through Shooting People. We were both loud and opinionated voices and I think initially we argued, if only because initially I argued with everyone. Some took this to heart and seem to have considered me unpardonable ever since but Les’ heart was too big for that.
I ended up running Shooting People’s Mobile Cinema, where I’d programme a selection of short films made by members of the community and then, with my brother Chris and our friend Adam we’d tour them round the country in a beat-up VW van. It produced many wonderful stories but none quite as marvellous as when Leslie hosted us in his home in the Shetland Isles.
After the screening he took us for a barbecue on the beach. It was June so there was barely any dark at 10pm and Shetland being treeless, he kept a stack of Aberdeen telephone directories in the back of his car in order to light the fire. Seals bobbed in the water whilst we huddled on the sands, random names turning to cinders, dancing in the uplift from the fire whilst Leslie recounted the local folk tale of the Selkie woman. For me Leslie embodied what UK film culture could be – deeply local, a light that could draw a community together, a light by which we could see each other better.
I always meant to go back to Sheltand but never did and was truly saddened to hear that Les had died. He had the warmth of a fire at the end of the world and will be deeply missed.
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