Memories Of Scotland
During shielding I was unable to shop so missed my monthly treat of Who Do You
Think You Are? Magazine. Realising that Covid-19 was not going away, I have taken out a subscription for home delivery.
Reading the September issue in hospital this week, I turned immediately to the ‘Ancestors at Work’ article about Scottish fisher girls. Memories surfaced of my childhood days in Ness on the Isle of Lewis (1946–1950), where we were related in some degree to almost everyone around through my Mackenzie paternal-line genes. My then best friend, Johanna Maclean, was the daughter of a ‘herring lass’, who in her young days had travelled with the fleet of herring boats from Stornoway Harbour round the north and east coasts of Scotland, then eventually to Great Yarmouth.
Mrs Maclean (née Margaret Campbell), Johanna and her young brother lived in a traditional thatched ‘but and ben’ stone house with the living area to the right, animals to the left side and the drinkingwater barrel in the middle near the front door. There was a peat fire in the living area for warmth and to cook all their food, including the daily homemade scones, the big pot of porridge and whatever soup there was ingredients for hanging from a hook on the iron sway, while the blackened iron kettle nestled on the peat and was kept at just below boiling temperature, ever ready for offering a strupach (cuppa) to any visitor.
Mrs Maclean was a widow with a cow and some hens so she and my parents shared her milk, cream and homemade crowdie (a soft cheese), while eggs were shared when her hens were laying and ours were not, and my father always gave her half of his rod-fishing catches from the nearby Atlantic rocks. All drinking water was from the local well, and the run-off into outdoor barrels was for ordinary washing purposes. No running water and no electricity were the norm, but life for us children was fun with freedom to run and play on the grass, the one empty road and best of all the beaches and rocks.
When we left the island to return south, Mrs Maclean gave my mother one of her most precious ornaments, a small white china cup with “A Present from Great
Yarmouth” embossed in gold. There she had “enjoyed the time of her life” as one of the herring lasses, and I had often admired the cup displayed on her wooden dresser. For my family it represented an evocation of her and island life, so when my mother died, I had the cup and kept it on my bookcase displays. Then, after downsizing in 2016, I gifted the cup and its story back to the vibrant heritage centre in Ness, Comunn Eachdraidh Nis ( cenonline.org), which is based in my old primary school.
Every such story that you publish in the magazine touches readers and helps evoke and retain dormant memories in the elderly; perhaps it should be one of the boxes to tick on the NHS form for repeat prescriptions!
Dr Elizabeth Jordan (Betty Mackenzie), granddaughter of Maired Bhocs from Habost and daughter of Iain Gobhan, one-time woodwork teacher at the Nicolson Institute
EDITOR REPLIES: I’m glad our magazine has triggered such rich memories, and thank you for sharing them with us.