The Courier & Advertiser (Fife Edition)
Following in the footsteps of Burns and Lewis Grassic Gibbon on farm shop trip
TThe bell was broken by Butcher Cumberland’s troops in the aftermath of Culloden and recast by the villagers
he Doyenne and I popped out to the Spud Hut, the local farm shop, for some vegetables, little thinking where it would take us. The farm is a couple of hundred yards from the junction leading to Auchenblae and, as we hadn’t been in the village since before lockdown, we turned up the road.
It’s not far and as we got there our stomachs told us it was time for lunch.
We popped our heads into The Brae Cafe to see if they had a table for two.
We were in luck.
The Doyenne ordered delicious homemade lasagne and I had Hunter’s chicken – chicken wrapped in bacon with melted cheese and chips – which was a lot bigger than I expected. It set us up for the afternoon.
Is it Auchenblae or Auchinblae?
It’s Auchenblae on the map and the finger posts, but at the foot of the village you’ll see the distinctive pagoda roof of the old Auchinblae Distillery Company Ltd which produced a single malt Auchinblae whisky.
It’s hard to think that whisky got it wrong.
But whichever, it is notable for its unusually wide main street for a Scottish village.
We had good intentions of gardening in the afternoon but the weather was fine and the garden would still be there next day.
So we headed up the hill out of the village, past the nine-hole Auchenblae golf course described as short but demanding.
You’re on the high road to Drumlithie – an attractive road with long views to the coast and the sea.
I turned down a road I hadn’t driven on before, crossing a stream which I guessed was the Bervie Water.
We followed it to Glenbervie.
I couldn’t resist the finger post directing us to Glenbervie Kirkyard.
Moss-covered walls give an indication of its age.
Old kirkyards are a great attraction for me. The headstones are usually a fascinating source of information, and familiar historical names sometimes turn up in surprising places.
Our national poet Robert Burns’ ancestors farmed in the district and are buried there.
The grave of James Burness of Brawliemuir, the poet’s great-grandfather, which his great-grandson visited, has the following four lines of verse inscribed on it: Altho our Bodys worms destroy / Our reins consumed be / Yet in our flesh and with our eyes / Shall our Redeemer see.
It was only eight more miles to Drumlithie, the sun shone, armadas of fleecy cumulus clouds sailed high overhead and it seemed a pity not to carry on.
Drumlithie is thought to be the inspiration for Seggat, the village that features in Sunset Song and Cloud Howe, the first and second books of the trilogy A Scots Quair.
Its author Lewis Grassic Gibbon was the north-east’s greatest and most eloquent writer, described as “the voice of the Scottish earth”.
He is buried in nearby Arbuthnott churchyard, but that is another trip for another day.
Drumlithie is still known locally as Skite which is taken from Sunset Song – “There to the left rose Drumlithie at last… some called it Skite to torment the folk and they’d get fell angry at that in Skite. No more than a rickle of houses it was…”
It’s true the village developed without any thought to town planning, but it is certainly not a rickle of houses.
Linen weaving was originally the principal occupation and it was described as “a village of long, low thatched cottages with, in every ben-end, a loom shop with its raftered roof and dusty walls in which a hand-loom weaver worked from morning to night”.
The invention of the power loom put an end to all that and Drumlithie’s weaving industry rapidly declined.
Men sought employment on the land and today the village is a dormitory of Aberdeen.
The long, low thatched cottages are now brightly whitewashed, but it must be a bit of a puzzle for the casual visitor finding his way round its narrow old-fashioned streets.
The High Street is a narrow lane turning and twisting round the haphazard cottages and, if you’re not paying attention, leading you down even narrower lanes.
A well on the edge of the village inscribed with the date 1887 is the last of six wells which were the village water supply.
Known as the butter well, the village wives cooled their butter in its water which was considered to be coldest of the six.
An unusual feature of the High Street is the free-standing circular tower or miniature belfry dated 1777.
The bell is thought to date back to before 1688.
It was broken by Butcher Cumberland’s troops in the aftermath of Culloden and recast by the villagers.
Thereafter it summoned weavers to their work and was rung for meal times.
It was time to think of home. We’d only intended going to the farm shop, so we’d left Inka on his lonesome in the house.
We headed back to take him for his walk.