| Robbie Shepherd

36 Roon the ruck founs wi the lave o the loons Played “Takie” by licht o the meen. IT WISNA HIS WYTE – CHARLES MURRAY

Noo stracht awa, lat me pit ye oot o yer misery, you that kent little aboot a puddick steel lat aleen “strauchal”. Gyan back a twa wikk syne I left ye tae mull ower’t an thanks for yer response. The loons playin takie bi licht o the meen in at fine poem o Charles Murray brocht memories o the gran sicht o weel stackit rucks in a tidy cornyaird an the puddock steels hid a fair role tae play. Bill Smith wis richt fin he said he aye thocht the puddick steel went intae the foun o a ruck an Charlie Burgess myns on haein them at’s faimily fairm at Heilans o Newmachar. As for “strauchal”, I winner if it be an afftak o an aal-farrant English wird. It’s time tae hae a caa-tee eence mair ower yer emails, phone calls an letters, an still mang the corn, I telt ye o a fine letter in the same Setterday’s screid fae Jessie Sheach o

The Press and Journal | Saturday, September 16, 2017 Keith enclosin a diary o her faither fin he workit for Davie Angus at Midmar an tellin’s first o aa at her brithers ees’t tae ca the organ for Maggie Middleton in the Kirk, Davy Middleton wis wi the mull as weel.

Thoomin throwe the 1930 Collins Handy Diary o Wm Hardie maks interestin readin. January saa thrashin, draggin an sneddin trees, drivin neeps an firewid an ma ee stoppit on the 25th tae fin oot Willie wis thrashin at Esma’s grandfaither’s fairm – Bob Dickson at Burnside o Cluny – for eicht an a half oors. At at time it wid o cost less than a fower poun an sair wark at that. Still in the Midmar airt I turn tae a letter fae Ken Mackie o Torphins fa hid a redd oot efter his brither Bert pass’t awa in January. In Bert’s gairage Ken cam upon a skweel strap – a tawse – an myns on his brither bein skweel’t at Echt. He hid it encas’t in a display box an presentit it tae Mrs MacDonald, heidmistress o the skweel. She micht be temptit fyles tae brak the gless. Back noo tae ma column in the middle o July on the sang aboot the lads that were rear’t on tatties an herrin tae get a gran response fae Ken Watmough, the weel kent, kenspeckle figure in the fish trade, fa hid his shop in Thistle Street, Aiberdeen. A Torry loon an prood o’t, we hid a news at Ballater Games an syne he folla’t up wi an email I hae pickit bitties oot here.

‘I was so interested about your delight of enjoying fresh herring in oatmeal wi a new tattie. This glorious meal is not too popular with the younger generation, far too mony bones is the usual moan, never a problem for this Torry loon as lang as you birstle them and have a bit of bread to hand to unblock the offender’.

Div ye mean loaf or oatcakes Ken? Stockans thick for me.

‘In the past I did hard fish (salted cod) and salt herring for a few rural customers but the Spanish and Portuguese oil ex-patriots enjoyed the salt cod, it gave them a taste of home’.

Thanks Ken an ye remind me o hame tee as the fish van, or wis it cairt, cam roon wi the hard chunk an losh kens foo aften ma mither hid tae bil’t throwe the bree, bit the taste wi tatties lingers yet.

Ere ye are, bit three responses the day bit myn it’s memories tae be shar’t bi aa, ony thochts jist keep the pottie bilin sae lat’s be hearin fae ye. Some o us aal foggies tend tae stick tae hame fare an habits sae I got a stamagaster on a response fae Esma fin I refus’t tae gyang intae Facebook, tae be conter’t wi It’s an gie aal horse that winna nicher at fresh corn. Neigh, nae. See ye neist wikkeyn.