The town of Buckie presses itself back against the rocks as it nervously looks out across the mouth of the Moray firth right into the heart of the North Sea, its salt-stained and cracking buildings a stark reminder of the sheer force of nature this close to the edge. It was once a busy fishing port, its safe harbour walls enfolding countless small boats while music overflowed from lively pubs to compete with the laughter of crews returning from the sea. But that time has passed. The life of a fisherman has become harsher, the fish stocks have been diminished, and the town now smells more of rust and diesel…