No 77. STRAW FROM THE MILL.
Straw, such a normal aspect of farming that we might take it for granted and so it might get overlooked. Yet I have seen so many changes in the handling of straw over so many years, produced by the Biblical flail on a croft in Rousam in Stronsay to the monster combines of today.The handling of straw comes to mind, easiest is to quote what I saw from my own experiences.
First was the Mill at Whitehaa in my early days, rebuilt by Davie Davidson and mentioned previously. Mainly the high speed drum and the grain carrier through the thick stone wall at the back of the barn.
Equally important was the straw end of the mill on the ground floor at the far end from the drum in the sheaf loft. The newly thrashed sheaf, now just a mix of loose straw, good grain and soft chaff, made its way over and along the well named straw shakers to sift out and collect the grain, then the straw went down over the end. No change at all in that system to today’s combine harvestors.
There at the end of the mill lay the apparently simple task of carrying away the straw from the end of the mill. It could be and was hard work with a four-toed graip fork or a two-toed pitchfork. Keep the end of the mill clear of straw, stack it in the barn for future use, pitch it up to someone building the straw in bouts across the barn, or carry some away from the end of the mill direct to the byres and sheds. If the cattleman had some time available he would lend a hand. It saved him time later on, stacking it in handy corners for later use, or just chucking it over into the cattle courts to be later spread for bedding.
When we came to Greenland Mains straw was laboriously stacked in the lowish barn as per usual. Then our father had a straw blower installed at the end of the Mill by Davie Davidson of Scarths in Kirkwall. The straw dropped into a fairly high speed four-bladed blower and on into a round section pipe which went round various corners and across various spaces to deliver the straw at suitable points in the steading. Along the way were a succession of hatches at various drop off points, a short section of square box with a two way movable panel to intercept the straw, open it to deliver the straw or close it to let the straw carry on to the next drop off point.
.
There was the occasional choking of the pipe or of the blower, but handy slides allowed the blockages to be easily cleared. A safety feature was that a choke in the blower itself just meant the flat driving belt being cast off and no damage. It needed overseeing, but the changing thumping sound soon gave away a blockage.
The straw went many ways at Greenland Mains, straight ahead into the straw barn, right into the clipping shed under the main grain loft, left through the milkers byre to the far away sheds, a diversion into the Back Court where a stockade was erected to hold the straw, giving easy access for the cows.
The blower saved a great deal of straw carrying through narrow doorways and corridors. The blower was quite similar to the grain blowers we still have, but very much larger.
Next came the straw carrier. First one I saw was at Lower Dounreay, put in there before me, a shallow wooden trough about 5 feet wide with an endless chain and cross flights that dragged the straw along the trough to a convenient series of hatches to drop it where needed. The chain and flights returned above the straw. It worked straight ahead from the mill, and was made by Garvie in Aberdeenshire. We moved the whole assembly from Lower Dounreay to Isauld in 1956, adding a further length to extend it to 90 feet to carry the straw to a lofted area over the indoor silage pit. With all the hatches open it dealt unattended with the straw, as each dropping off point filled up to the hatch it just carried on to the next. Did very well though attention was needed to adjust the tension of the chains to avoid jumping a link. It did sterling service for many a year until the mill was superceded by the combine harvester, for us sometime in the 1960s. That straw loft was very handy as the straw just had to be pushed over the open sides down into a straw feeding passage on either side, no carrying at all. Bedding the courts could also be easily done from the loft, though the final spreading in the courts was with a graip or with some helpful cattle!!
Next came the buncher. We never had one, but a buncher was often used by various travelling mills, though not on the first ones I saw. This took the loose straw at the end of the mill and fed it into the buncher, just a larger version of the binder sheafing mechanism but a double assembly with two twine needles.
The buncher tied the straw into convenient sized bundles or sheaves. The action was similar to the binder, packing fingers and a pressure trip mechanism. It made handling the straw from the travelling mill a lot easier, especially on a windy day in the stackyard,
The buncher was also installed on various farms at the end of the mill. My brother Steven had one when he was in Baillie. The bunches still had to be carried though the steading to various byes and stables but were ready for the cattleman to carry, to use or to store in handy corners as thrashing went on. They were also handy for pitching over the cattle’s backs into the straw rack on the wall in front of them, saved walking up between every two cattle to fill the rack. Store some in the straw barn, carry some to the byres to handy corners as thrashing went on, it all depended on how many people were available, or if the cattleman had a spare moment. .
The bunches were close in appearance to the hand tied windlins we used to make in Stronsay to carry straw to the byres and the stable, and were most useful.
A quite extra use was to load it with a pitchfork like sheaves onto a cart to sell or to give a load to someone else, perhaps a neighbour, perhaps a crofter needing a bit of straw. It made for easier loading and building on the cart than loose straw which was a devil to work with on a windy day.
Today we have forgotten all these methods. The thrashing mill is an antique if it still exists. Some do, silently gathering dust in a forgotten corner of some steadings. We now have huge round balers swallowing up the harvested straw faster than the combine can produce it. Even the little square bale is seldom seen now though it is by no means entirely gone.
The big round straw bale is dumped into a machine that disintegrates it and blows it direct into the cattle courts. Untouched by human hand!!
Monday 30 August 2010
No 78 Travelling Mills.
1889 illustration.
No 78. Travelling Threshing Mills.
The earliest reference to thrashing mills on a personal note I have taken from the Diaries of William Tait of Ingsay, 1880 to 1939. These Diaries are going to intrude into my notes as time goes by. They accentuate much of what I have already written in Rain on My Window about yesterday.
William Tait, finally of Ingsay in Birsay, Orkney, was my father’s mother’s brother, bred off Caithness stock. His father was John Tait, born in 1820 in Grotistoft, Hill of Barrock, now a roofless ruin after being cleared in May 1843 by James Traill of Rattar. His mother was Janet Steven, born in Dunnet. They emigrated to Orkney circa 1850. These Diaries I knew about many years ago, had an occasional look inside them, but they are not mine. They possibly belong more to Archival History than to any one family, though Wm Tait’s grandson Sandy Scarth in Twatt in Birsay has present claim. But they are in my present care as I transcribe them into this marvellous computer age, making the contents available to a wider readership. I am now half way through the work, pencil written in old and old-fashioned farmers’ diaries full of much useless bits of information, such as M.P.s and the Right Honourable Members of the House of Lords !!! Interesting enough in it’s own way. The pencil writings are faint, but we are making progress.
Still much unfinished with 25 Diaries still to go by late May 2010, but at least over half of them are already done and are printed out and available for viewing and perusal in a green backed folder in Castlehill Heritage Centre. I am getting some help from them, so if anyone wants they can have a look into the past of farming in Orkney around 100 years ago, which was much the same as in Caithness. They still need a final editing but that is only a touching up to correct my typos. I will pick and choose from the Diaries from time to time, without apology, but this article at least introduces them to John O’ Groat readers.
The Diaries are nearer to me than I thought. Until I began transcribing them I did not know that from1894 to 1900 Wm Tait was farm manager at Rousam in Stronsay, farmed then by David Pottinger my grandfather and his brother-in-law. From 1907 to 1919 Wm Tait farmed at the Bay Farm next door to Rousam. So we have a span and a wonderful look back into 25 years of Stronsay farming either side of the turn of the last Century.
In Nov.1888 Wm Tait took over the farm of Work just outside Kirkwall as tenant. The system then was the in-coming tenant was bound to thrash down the crop for his out going predecessor. The straw was normally steelbow, a term to describe that the straw was bound to the farm and went to the incoming tenant for no payment. In the case of Work farm, as described in the Diaries, Wm Tait had to pay for the straw. This was balanced by reverse transaction on outgoing. And the thrashing down by Wm Tait in 1889 was done by a Steam Travelling Mill.
I have already written about barn thrashing mills and straw handling, but I wondered how far back our travelling thrashing mills went. I found a wonderful illustration on the internet of a horse powered travelling mill of 1881, easily downloaded if we cannot print it.
My first experience of travelling mills was at Greenland Mains. The ones I remember were owned by Wildy Allan from Mey and Donald (Injun Donald) Gunn from West Greenland, but there were many more. The excellent Museum at Kingussie is full of these old timers, the Mills I mean!! . But here in Wm Tait’s Diary for 1889 I came on the following entries, and the steam travelling threshing mill that thrashed down the crop.
I quote the Diaries, editing out most of the entries save on the Steam Mill :-
1889.
jan 30 wed Thrashing with Steam Mill - thrashed two stacks - stormy day.
jan 31 thur Orrow horse carting straw to Jas. Gunn - carting dung & turnips.
feb 01 frid Steam Mill thrashed two stacks.
feb 02 sat Very stormy - gathering up blown down straw in forenoon.
feb 04 mon 3 carts at Kirkwall with grain - catching up straw & 4 carts with grain
to Kirkwall in afternoon with oats - 28 qrs in all. (a Qr is 3 cwts, 150 kg. )
feb 05 tues Start the mill for a few minutes but was too windy.
feb 07 thur Steam mill thrashed in afternoon.
feb 09 sat Very stormy, taking in straw in forenoon, dressing oats in afternoon.
feb 12 tue Steam mill thrashed 8.1/2 hours - fine frosty day - ground covered with snow.
feb 13 wed Steam Mill Thrashed 8 hours - fine day.
feb 15 frid Two carts at Kirkwall a.m. with grain, 8 qrs. –
one with straw to Mrs Skea, 34 windlings - took in some straw a.m. -
feb 16 sat Taking in straw to the barn, a.m. - finished dressing oats today.
MEMO- 197 qrs & 1 bushel is all the grain of the crop of Work Farm.
Bought 4 qrs 2 bu. oats from R. Marwick, 32 lb. per bu. @ 11/- a qr.
[The Valuation Roll for 1888 lists Robert Thomas Marwick, farmer, as tenant of Work farm
hence the outgoing tenant. - M.P..]
feb 18 mon 4 carts carting oats to Kirkwall, 16 qrs.
MEMO:- Straw of 197.1/8 qrs at 6/- is £59.2.9d
So Wm Tait had thrashed down all the crop and dressed all the oats and carted all the sacks to Kirkwall for sale for the outgoing tenant. For that he had the privilege of paying the sum of £59.2.9d for the straw. Not too easy an entry for a new tenant, but those were the terms on So in 1889 we know that a team of steam engine and thrashing mill was travelling around Orkney.
. Many farms had some stacks left after the winter ended and the cattle went out to grass, a very nice state of affairs to be in but not too often seen after a hungry winter. The outside of summer stacks was usually covered with chaff and bits of half eaten grain surrounding the many visible holes of the inhabitants. Rats could make a motorway of tracks zig zagging up the outside of the stack, an easy way of getting around rather than burrowing a tunnel. So before the rats and mice could totally destroy the stack over the long summer, thrashing down was required.
In Caithness we had the travelling mills which were taken round the county to the various stackyards and moved along the line of stacks to thrash them down. The thrashing mill coming down the road meant a busy few days, both outdoors and in the farm kitchen.
.
This outdoor thrashing meant building a gilt which was a long stack of straw, covered by stack nets when finished and left for another winter until carted in to the cattle courts as a layer of bedding. Or some other winter At least it used up surplus straw and made it into useful dung.
Or sometimes a gilt was forgotten about, left in solitary splendour at the far side of the stackyard forever !!!.
No 78. Travelling Threshing Mills.
The earliest reference to thrashing mills on a personal note I have taken from the Diaries of William Tait of Ingsay, 1880 to 1939. These Diaries are going to intrude into my notes as time goes by. They accentuate much of what I have already written in Rain on My Window about yesterday.
William Tait, finally of Ingsay in Birsay, Orkney, was my father’s mother’s brother, bred off Caithness stock. His father was John Tait, born in 1820 in Grotistoft, Hill of Barrock, now a roofless ruin after being cleared in May 1843 by James Traill of Rattar. His mother was Janet Steven, born in Dunnet. They emigrated to Orkney circa 1850. These Diaries I knew about many years ago, had an occasional look inside them, but they are not mine. They possibly belong more to Archival History than to any one family, though Wm Tait’s grandson Sandy Scarth in Twatt in Birsay has present claim. But they are in my present care as I transcribe them into this marvellous computer age, making the contents available to a wider readership. I am now half way through the work, pencil written in old and old-fashioned farmers’ diaries full of much useless bits of information, such as M.P.s and the Right Honourable Members of the House of Lords !!! Interesting enough in it’s own way. The pencil writings are faint, but we are making progress.
Still much unfinished with 25 Diaries still to go by late May 2010, but at least over half of them are already done and are printed out and available for viewing and perusal in a green backed folder in Castlehill Heritage Centre. I am getting some help from them, so if anyone wants they can have a look into the past of farming in Orkney around 100 years ago, which was much the same as in Caithness. They still need a final editing but that is only a touching up to correct my typos. I will pick and choose from the Diaries from time to time, without apology, but this article at least introduces them to John O’ Groat readers.
The Diaries are nearer to me than I thought. Until I began transcribing them I did not know that from1894 to 1900 Wm Tait was farm manager at Rousam in Stronsay, farmed then by David Pottinger my grandfather and his brother-in-law. From 1907 to 1919 Wm Tait farmed at the Bay Farm next door to Rousam. So we have a span and a wonderful look back into 25 years of Stronsay farming either side of the turn of the last Century.
In Nov.1888 Wm Tait took over the farm of Work just outside Kirkwall as tenant. The system then was the in-coming tenant was bound to thrash down the crop for his out going predecessor. The straw was normally steelbow, a term to describe that the straw was bound to the farm and went to the incoming tenant for no payment. In the case of Work farm, as described in the Diaries, Wm Tait had to pay for the straw. This was balanced by reverse transaction on outgoing. And the thrashing down by Wm Tait in 1889 was done by a Steam Travelling Mill.
I have already written about barn thrashing mills and straw handling, but I wondered how far back our travelling thrashing mills went. I found a wonderful illustration on the internet of a horse powered travelling mill of 1881, easily downloaded if we cannot print it.
My first experience of travelling mills was at Greenland Mains. The ones I remember were owned by Wildy Allan from Mey and Donald (Injun Donald) Gunn from West Greenland, but there were many more. The excellent Museum at Kingussie is full of these old timers, the Mills I mean!! . But here in Wm Tait’s Diary for 1889 I came on the following entries, and the steam travelling threshing mill that thrashed down the crop.
I quote the Diaries, editing out most of the entries save on the Steam Mill :-
1889.
jan 30 wed Thrashing with Steam Mill - thrashed two stacks - stormy day.
jan 31 thur Orrow horse carting straw to Jas. Gunn - carting dung & turnips.
feb 01 frid Steam Mill thrashed two stacks.
feb 02 sat Very stormy - gathering up blown down straw in forenoon.
feb 04 mon 3 carts at Kirkwall with grain - catching up straw & 4 carts with grain
to Kirkwall in afternoon with oats - 28 qrs in all. (a Qr is 3 cwts, 150 kg. )
feb 05 tues Start the mill for a few minutes but was too windy.
feb 07 thur Steam mill thrashed in afternoon.
feb 09 sat Very stormy, taking in straw in forenoon, dressing oats in afternoon.
feb 12 tue Steam mill thrashed 8.1/2 hours - fine frosty day - ground covered with snow.
feb 13 wed Steam Mill Thrashed 8 hours - fine day.
feb 15 frid Two carts at Kirkwall a.m. with grain, 8 qrs. –
one with straw to Mrs Skea, 34 windlings - took in some straw a.m. -
feb 16 sat Taking in straw to the barn, a.m. - finished dressing oats today.
MEMO- 197 qrs & 1 bushel is all the grain of the crop of Work Farm.
Bought 4 qrs 2 bu. oats from R. Marwick, 32 lb. per bu. @ 11/- a qr.
[The Valuation Roll for 1888 lists Robert Thomas Marwick, farmer, as tenant of Work farm
hence the outgoing tenant. - M.P..]
feb 18 mon 4 carts carting oats to Kirkwall, 16 qrs.
MEMO:- Straw of 197.1/8 qrs at 6/- is £59.2.9d
So Wm Tait had thrashed down all the crop and dressed all the oats and carted all the sacks to Kirkwall for sale for the outgoing tenant. For that he had the privilege of paying the sum of £59.2.9d for the straw. Not too easy an entry for a new tenant, but those were the terms on So in 1889 we know that a team of steam engine and thrashing mill was travelling around Orkney.
. Many farms had some stacks left after the winter ended and the cattle went out to grass, a very nice state of affairs to be in but not too often seen after a hungry winter. The outside of summer stacks was usually covered with chaff and bits of half eaten grain surrounding the many visible holes of the inhabitants. Rats could make a motorway of tracks zig zagging up the outside of the stack, an easy way of getting around rather than burrowing a tunnel. So before the rats and mice could totally destroy the stack over the long summer, thrashing down was required.
In Caithness we had the travelling mills which were taken round the county to the various stackyards and moved along the line of stacks to thrash them down. The thrashing mill coming down the road meant a busy few days, both outdoors and in the farm kitchen.
.
This outdoor thrashing meant building a gilt which was a long stack of straw, covered by stack nets when finished and left for another winter until carted in to the cattle courts as a layer of bedding. Or some other winter At least it used up surplus straw and made it into useful dung.
Or sometimes a gilt was forgotten about, left in solitary splendour at the far side of the stackyard forever !!!.
Np 79. THRASHAN DOON & BUILDAN OOT.
No 79. THRASSAN DOON “ AN “BUILDAN OOT”
At Whitehaa I remember some Springs when “Building oot “ was done. By no means every Spring were stacks left over after a hard winter, but sometimes. This meant a run of days of thrashing down stacks left in the stackyard after winter end before the rats and the mice completely demolished them. Sometimes there were more, sometimes there were less, sometimes there were none at all.
Obviously the straw would have to be built outdoors, the barn could not hold it all. So a clear level space in the stackyard just beyond the barn door was made ready. We actually had two hard standings of many flat flag stones set out for that purpose, ever so slightly raised above ground level to keep the straw dry.. One was in the stackyard, one was inside the Square, both as near to the opposing barn doors as reasonable, not too far to carry the straw. The one in the Square is to be seen in the photo we previously published of Billy the Horse in the square with the bairns, including myself !! Obviously a space was left in the stackyard between the gilt and the barn wall to let the carts get in to the sheaf window. No travelling steam mills were available in Stronsay so threshing doon was a homer with your own thrashing mill in the barn. A dusty job too at winter’s end.
Extra hands were needed if the straw was to be carried direct from the mill as thrashing progressed, hauled in burdens out of the door. It needed two men to carry the straw from the mill, one man with a pitchfork at the gilt to pitch up to one man on a half loaded cart used as a platform on the way up. Pitching straw from the ground to any height at all was a no-go, especially on a windy day..
The cart we used was usually the Long Cart, handy if you had one, less shoogly and a longer platform, the shafts sitting on a barrel. It was better to have two men building on the gilt if you could get them.
Otherwise if not enough hands were available the straw was first stored in the barn on thrashing day, and then another day it was tediously carried out. and pitched up onto the gilt. Not too often was there enough people to keep everything going at the same time, so many days the straw just had to be barn stored. but it was double handling. Often enough that was the method when but few people were available
At Whitehall our father could usually rustle up enough extra hands to do both thrashing and carrying out at the same time. Sometimes a neighbour came to help to thrash down the left over stacks. A cart load of straw might be his wages, if you could call it that, loaded direct at the barn door and saving a bit of building into the gilt. A tricky building job, straw was not as easy to build on a cart as sheaves but I remember some mighty good loads being built, then tied tightly down with a couple of ropes thrown over the finished marvel. At Greenland Mains a certain Mr Campbell from Castletown was very good at so doing, never missing a chance of a free load of straw in return for his help. High entertainment thrown in as an extra.
He used to cart herring for our father in Stronsay in the fishing days gone by. Fancied himself as a good horseman, and it was so. Except for the time he backed a young horse in the cart into the sea to wash both the horse’s legs and the cart. after a day’s herring carting. The horse would not stop backing further anhd further into deeper water until Cammelly’s bum was under water, as helpless with laughing as the on dry land spectators. There was more to a load of straw than one would think!!
More often the extras were some hands from the Village. There was a nicely balanced barter system of setting some drills of tatties for a Villager, the favour being returned with a bit of occasional work when needed. We had another farm at Airy, four miles away, and the men interchanged when needed.
Not all stacks were at risk from rodents, only those built on the ground level steathes. I remember not needing to thrash stacks built on special raised stack steathes, or steddles to give the Caithness name. These steathes were usually kept for the seed oats, they were more or less rat and mouse proof.
They were built on stone pillars, or fancy bought-in iron pedestals on a few farms, with wide flagstones laid flat over the pillars so no varmints could climb into the stack. They were usually kept for the seed oats, always grown on the clean-land, a a field after a crop of turnips the previous year. They were used before winter’s end anyway as the seed was normally all needed. Any left over on raised steathes could be safely left unthrashed to next winter. That clean land crop was usually pretty free of weeds, shorter in straw length, more often cut standing and more regular and indeed giving a better and cleaner seed oat than any crop of lea, which usually, being very heavy, was prone to being flattened by bad weather.
.
But don’t count on total safety. Rats were wonderfully self reliant. There is the oft told story of the two rats night raiding the hen house. One rat lay on its back and held the desired egg on its stomach, the other rat gripped its tail and sledged the rat with the egg to the rat hole, or under the hen house. I never saw it done myself, but, as they say, “I knew a man who knew a man who had a wife etc.” Nuff said, believe it if you will. I do know that when we moved a hen house in the field there was always a number of eaten out egg shells underneath. So sometimes even a stack on pedestals would have a tenant. These rats must have grown wings.
Thrashing down left over stacks made use odd days of spare time for the men, a day of wind and rain mostly when land work was impossible. Or better, if all the land work was so up to date that time was available.
Straw gilts were a different kind of building than the sheaf building of harvest time when the outer ring of sheaves had a downward slope which ran off the rain. Even if not thatched, which I never saw in the North of Scotland, a well built stack was rain proof.
So too with the straw gilt. Keep the heart high, tramp it hard, place the loose straw with practiced care just so, pat it down into shape, keep an outward convex curve to the gilt topsides. Two men on top of the gilt, one keeping the incoming straw clear, the other doing the careful building. Stack nets over the gilt to keep it all down when finished. An art form.
We previously published a photo on the 11th June Groat issue of a gilt being built, have a look back unless the editor can reprint it. Good old photo too !!!
At Whitehaa I remember some Springs when “Building oot “ was done. By no means every Spring were stacks left over after a hard winter, but sometimes. This meant a run of days of thrashing down stacks left in the stackyard after winter end before the rats and the mice completely demolished them. Sometimes there were more, sometimes there were less, sometimes there were none at all.
Obviously the straw would have to be built outdoors, the barn could not hold it all. So a clear level space in the stackyard just beyond the barn door was made ready. We actually had two hard standings of many flat flag stones set out for that purpose, ever so slightly raised above ground level to keep the straw dry.. One was in the stackyard, one was inside the Square, both as near to the opposing barn doors as reasonable, not too far to carry the straw. The one in the Square is to be seen in the photo we previously published of Billy the Horse in the square with the bairns, including myself !! Obviously a space was left in the stackyard between the gilt and the barn wall to let the carts get in to the sheaf window. No travelling steam mills were available in Stronsay so threshing doon was a homer with your own thrashing mill in the barn. A dusty job too at winter’s end.
Extra hands were needed if the straw was to be carried direct from the mill as thrashing progressed, hauled in burdens out of the door. It needed two men to carry the straw from the mill, one man with a pitchfork at the gilt to pitch up to one man on a half loaded cart used as a platform on the way up. Pitching straw from the ground to any height at all was a no-go, especially on a windy day..
The cart we used was usually the Long Cart, handy if you had one, less shoogly and a longer platform, the shafts sitting on a barrel. It was better to have two men building on the gilt if you could get them.
Otherwise if not enough hands were available the straw was first stored in the barn on thrashing day, and then another day it was tediously carried out. and pitched up onto the gilt. Not too often was there enough people to keep everything going at the same time, so many days the straw just had to be barn stored. but it was double handling. Often enough that was the method when but few people were available
At Whitehall our father could usually rustle up enough extra hands to do both thrashing and carrying out at the same time. Sometimes a neighbour came to help to thrash down the left over stacks. A cart load of straw might be his wages, if you could call it that, loaded direct at the barn door and saving a bit of building into the gilt. A tricky building job, straw was not as easy to build on a cart as sheaves but I remember some mighty good loads being built, then tied tightly down with a couple of ropes thrown over the finished marvel. At Greenland Mains a certain Mr Campbell from Castletown was very good at so doing, never missing a chance of a free load of straw in return for his help. High entertainment thrown in as an extra.
He used to cart herring for our father in Stronsay in the fishing days gone by. Fancied himself as a good horseman, and it was so. Except for the time he backed a young horse in the cart into the sea to wash both the horse’s legs and the cart. after a day’s herring carting. The horse would not stop backing further anhd further into deeper water until Cammelly’s bum was under water, as helpless with laughing as the on dry land spectators. There was more to a load of straw than one would think!!
More often the extras were some hands from the Village. There was a nicely balanced barter system of setting some drills of tatties for a Villager, the favour being returned with a bit of occasional work when needed. We had another farm at Airy, four miles away, and the men interchanged when needed.
Not all stacks were at risk from rodents, only those built on the ground level steathes. I remember not needing to thrash stacks built on special raised stack steathes, or steddles to give the Caithness name. These steathes were usually kept for the seed oats, they were more or less rat and mouse proof.
They were built on stone pillars, or fancy bought-in iron pedestals on a few farms, with wide flagstones laid flat over the pillars so no varmints could climb into the stack. They were usually kept for the seed oats, always grown on the clean-land, a a field after a crop of turnips the previous year. They were used before winter’s end anyway as the seed was normally all needed. Any left over on raised steathes could be safely left unthrashed to next winter. That clean land crop was usually pretty free of weeds, shorter in straw length, more often cut standing and more regular and indeed giving a better and cleaner seed oat than any crop of lea, which usually, being very heavy, was prone to being flattened by bad weather.
.
But don’t count on total safety. Rats were wonderfully self reliant. There is the oft told story of the two rats night raiding the hen house. One rat lay on its back and held the desired egg on its stomach, the other rat gripped its tail and sledged the rat with the egg to the rat hole, or under the hen house. I never saw it done myself, but, as they say, “I knew a man who knew a man who had a wife etc.” Nuff said, believe it if you will. I do know that when we moved a hen house in the field there was always a number of eaten out egg shells underneath. So sometimes even a stack on pedestals would have a tenant. These rats must have grown wings.
Thrashing down left over stacks made use odd days of spare time for the men, a day of wind and rain mostly when land work was impossible. Or better, if all the land work was so up to date that time was available.
Straw gilts were a different kind of building than the sheaf building of harvest time when the outer ring of sheaves had a downward slope which ran off the rain. Even if not thatched, which I never saw in the North of Scotland, a well built stack was rain proof.
So too with the straw gilt. Keep the heart high, tramp it hard, place the loose straw with practiced care just so, pat it down into shape, keep an outward convex curve to the gilt topsides. Two men on top of the gilt, one keeping the incoming straw clear, the other doing the careful building. Stack nets over the gilt to keep it all down when finished. An art form.
We previously published a photo on the 11th June Groat issue of a gilt being built, have a look back unless the editor can reprint it. Good old photo too !!!
No 80 WIRD O' MOOTH.
No 80 “WIRD O’ MOOTH”. Pb 09.07 2010
We forget today that news actually did travel, a phrase we still use by saying “Bad News Travels Fast”. Still all too true I fear.
Funerals were notified by “wird o’ mooth”, a man coming to our house, often on foot or on his bike, possibly with a horse and a gig, and in all sobriety and with due formality giving the Man o’ the Hoos a “Bid” to the funeral. Sometimes that was also the first intimation that someone had died, though in some cases it was “ expected”. The man on the door step in his best dark suit and black tie told it’s own silent story.
The bid was never passed on over the doorstep, considered unlucky.
“Come in, Wullie, come awa in.” Courtesy dictated that a dram was offered to help the messenger on his way. Not always accepted and a dangerous courtesy anyway, with in some cases predictable results. It was a sober occasion, if I can use that word, and I remember the bearer of the news being ushered into the dining room by our father and spending a little time with him before going further on his sombre way. No doubt they would have a “bit o’ a news” as well.
Newspapers in Stronsay came in bundles, a feast and a famine. The Earl Thorfinn came out from Kirkwall on Wednesdays and Saturdays. The Earl Sigurd came out some Tuesdays but not to every Island. She, as we always called a ship, normally served Rousay, lying out to the West a bit on its own. On Fridays, but not every Friday, it did a “Round the Isles” sailing, a sort of “Touch and go”, with little cargo being handled, almost no livestock unless to another Island, beginning and ending in Kirkwall. It always was curious to me that the service was called a “sailing” though there were no longer any sails to drive the ship. It is still so called even today. How a word lingers on even after it’s immediate use has become outdated.
.
So newspapers came when they came, and several days newspapers would come in the same bundle, delivered by the postman. Many years later at Lower Dounreay and then Isauld we still had newspapers delivered by post from Malcolm and Tait in Thurso, postage 2d a time old money, less than a decimal penny now. Later Jim Ferrier, servicing Dounreay with the papers, threw ours out passing the Isauld road end, no extra charge. But we got them, with the occasional rainy day !!!
In Stronsay our regular paper was the Glasgow Herald. Others stuck religiously and vigorously to the Scotsman. Local papers were the Orcadian and the competing Orkney Herald, the latter now gone. I guess as his journey progressed the postman’s burden would get lighter. He also passed on much news by the well known “wird o mooth”.
Wm Tait of the Diaries in March 1915, in the Bay in Stronsay, paid 6s 8d. to W. Slater, Kirkwall, for the Scotsman delivered by post for a year. That is 33p. today, not bad for a year’s supply right to your door. In 1918 the Scotsman for 6 months cost him 4s 4d. Meeting the postman was always an adventure, and we vied as to who would get the letters and the newspapers. They came well wrapped too.
.
The postman delivered much else, parcels of clothes from Patrick Thompson on North Bridge in Edinburgh, a suit for our father from P.L.Johnston in Stromness, his brother-in-law, catalogue orders, though our mother generally frowned on that source. Still, catalogues were much used by many people far from still unborn shopping malls and filled a most useful need in remote Islands, sometimes with a local catalogue contact.
And books. Always books. Our mother subscribed to the Book Society, and I think there was a Reprint Society as well. Every month a new book came in a neat cardboard container. To be the first to open the small parcel was a competition between us. We also had and looked forward to the Childrens Newspaper, founded and edited by Arthur Mee, a brilliant man who also compiled and edited the Children’s Encylopedia. That was a quite incredible compendium of good information, I read it in its 8 volume entirety. A red leather bound set was in Whitehall, I remember when it arrived, then on to Greenland Mains, then on again to Isauld and so on down the family. A very old green leather covered set from Keiss also appeared, my late wife’s teacher Aunt Anne on the Robertson side. That set, a bit battered, is now in New Zealand with our daughter Janet and on to her children. I do not know if they read it, I suspect too many outdoor interests in that green and pleasant land.
Finally, the “wire”. In Wm Tait’s Diaries when he was farming, in Stennaquoy in Eday, 1900 to 1907, the first wire I found was an entry in 1907:-
jan 22 tues Sandy horse at Smiddy, got shoes on hind feet - 1 pair carting neeps a.m. thrashed p.m. - got wire word of James death - dry windy day.
[ James was his elder brother, founder of J. & W.Tait, born in Caithness in Inkstack in Dunnet Parish }
jan 24 thur W. S. Tait went to Kirkwall to James funeral .
jan 26 sat W. S. Tait came home today.
And that was that !!
There were submarine cables connecting the Islands with Kirkwall, dog legging on land over one Island and then diving under the sea to the next, coming onshore to various small buildings which are still there. The telephone line in Stronsay went by two wires in wooden telephone poles from land fall at Linksness past Whitehall Farm and down the road to the Post Office in Whitehall Village where, in a back room, Jim Fiddler, Postmaster, took care of them. Morse code knowledge required, and a light touch on a Morse key tap tap tapping the message. We used to hear the two wires singing as they passed Whitehall Farm and imagined the words actually passing along the wires.
Jim’s Norwegian wife Bertha often carried a bunch of telegrams - wires - in their unmistakeable buff envelopes to the Fish Mart, putting them in the desk boxes of various fish buyers and curers. Telegrams were delivered by messenger, not waiting for the regular postman but delivered by just anyone who would carry it. Sometimes a handy passing boy would get the honour. A far cry from the cell phone constantly at the ear of a well known local fish buyer down at Scrabster, as seen on T.V.!!!
The sadder part of the life of the “wire”, or the telegram, was the all too frequent carrying of sad tidings from War, the first notification of all too many deaths. Woundings were also notified by wire, and the first our grandfather knew of his Dr. son David’s injury in France in 1915 was a wire Notification from the War Office that he had been wounded. David himself had not thought fit to tell his parents, considering it not worth worrying them. He was honoured with an M.C. for that episode in No Mans Land, out with a stretcher party succouring wounded men.
During both World Wars the sight of a boy with a telegram was heart stopping in a small Island, the tidings all too frequently guessed in advance.
And Caithness was there too in the early days of telegraphy and the “wire”. In 1843 Caithness man Alexander Bain, credited as from Watten though born in Thurso Parish, invented and patented a device that could be considered the first facsimile machine. He called his invention a "recording telegraph". Bain's telegraph was able to transmit images by electrical wires.
(Wikpedia) “Alexander Bain and his twin sister Margaret were born in October 1811 of humble parents in the little town of Thurso, at the extreme north of Scotland. Their dad was a crofter, and he had six sisters and six brothers. They grew up in a remote stone cottage at Leanmore, a few miles north of Wick”
Caithness can justifiably be proud of him. He went a long way from “Wird o’ mooth”.
We forget today that news actually did travel, a phrase we still use by saying “Bad News Travels Fast”. Still all too true I fear.
Funerals were notified by “wird o’ mooth”, a man coming to our house, often on foot or on his bike, possibly with a horse and a gig, and in all sobriety and with due formality giving the Man o’ the Hoos a “Bid” to the funeral. Sometimes that was also the first intimation that someone had died, though in some cases it was “ expected”. The man on the door step in his best dark suit and black tie told it’s own silent story.
The bid was never passed on over the doorstep, considered unlucky.
“Come in, Wullie, come awa in.” Courtesy dictated that a dram was offered to help the messenger on his way. Not always accepted and a dangerous courtesy anyway, with in some cases predictable results. It was a sober occasion, if I can use that word, and I remember the bearer of the news being ushered into the dining room by our father and spending a little time with him before going further on his sombre way. No doubt they would have a “bit o’ a news” as well.
Newspapers in Stronsay came in bundles, a feast and a famine. The Earl Thorfinn came out from Kirkwall on Wednesdays and Saturdays. The Earl Sigurd came out some Tuesdays but not to every Island. She, as we always called a ship, normally served Rousay, lying out to the West a bit on its own. On Fridays, but not every Friday, it did a “Round the Isles” sailing, a sort of “Touch and go”, with little cargo being handled, almost no livestock unless to another Island, beginning and ending in Kirkwall. It always was curious to me that the service was called a “sailing” though there were no longer any sails to drive the ship. It is still so called even today. How a word lingers on even after it’s immediate use has become outdated.
.
So newspapers came when they came, and several days newspapers would come in the same bundle, delivered by the postman. Many years later at Lower Dounreay and then Isauld we still had newspapers delivered by post from Malcolm and Tait in Thurso, postage 2d a time old money, less than a decimal penny now. Later Jim Ferrier, servicing Dounreay with the papers, threw ours out passing the Isauld road end, no extra charge. But we got them, with the occasional rainy day !!!
In Stronsay our regular paper was the Glasgow Herald. Others stuck religiously and vigorously to the Scotsman. Local papers were the Orcadian and the competing Orkney Herald, the latter now gone. I guess as his journey progressed the postman’s burden would get lighter. He also passed on much news by the well known “wird o mooth”.
Wm Tait of the Diaries in March 1915, in the Bay in Stronsay, paid 6s 8d. to W. Slater, Kirkwall, for the Scotsman delivered by post for a year. That is 33p. today, not bad for a year’s supply right to your door. In 1918 the Scotsman for 6 months cost him 4s 4d. Meeting the postman was always an adventure, and we vied as to who would get the letters and the newspapers. They came well wrapped too.
.
The postman delivered much else, parcels of clothes from Patrick Thompson on North Bridge in Edinburgh, a suit for our father from P.L.Johnston in Stromness, his brother-in-law, catalogue orders, though our mother generally frowned on that source. Still, catalogues were much used by many people far from still unborn shopping malls and filled a most useful need in remote Islands, sometimes with a local catalogue contact.
And books. Always books. Our mother subscribed to the Book Society, and I think there was a Reprint Society as well. Every month a new book came in a neat cardboard container. To be the first to open the small parcel was a competition between us. We also had and looked forward to the Childrens Newspaper, founded and edited by Arthur Mee, a brilliant man who also compiled and edited the Children’s Encylopedia. That was a quite incredible compendium of good information, I read it in its 8 volume entirety. A red leather bound set was in Whitehall, I remember when it arrived, then on to Greenland Mains, then on again to Isauld and so on down the family. A very old green leather covered set from Keiss also appeared, my late wife’s teacher Aunt Anne on the Robertson side. That set, a bit battered, is now in New Zealand with our daughter Janet and on to her children. I do not know if they read it, I suspect too many outdoor interests in that green and pleasant land.
Finally, the “wire”. In Wm Tait’s Diaries when he was farming, in Stennaquoy in Eday, 1900 to 1907, the first wire I found was an entry in 1907:-
jan 22 tues Sandy horse at Smiddy, got shoes on hind feet - 1 pair carting neeps a.m. thrashed p.m. - got wire word of James death - dry windy day.
[ James was his elder brother, founder of J. & W.Tait, born in Caithness in Inkstack in Dunnet Parish }
jan 24 thur W. S. Tait went to Kirkwall to James funeral .
jan 26 sat W. S. Tait came home today.
And that was that !!
There were submarine cables connecting the Islands with Kirkwall, dog legging on land over one Island and then diving under the sea to the next, coming onshore to various small buildings which are still there. The telephone line in Stronsay went by two wires in wooden telephone poles from land fall at Linksness past Whitehall Farm and down the road to the Post Office in Whitehall Village where, in a back room, Jim Fiddler, Postmaster, took care of them. Morse code knowledge required, and a light touch on a Morse key tap tap tapping the message. We used to hear the two wires singing as they passed Whitehall Farm and imagined the words actually passing along the wires.
Jim’s Norwegian wife Bertha often carried a bunch of telegrams - wires - in their unmistakeable buff envelopes to the Fish Mart, putting them in the desk boxes of various fish buyers and curers. Telegrams were delivered by messenger, not waiting for the regular postman but delivered by just anyone who would carry it. Sometimes a handy passing boy would get the honour. A far cry from the cell phone constantly at the ear of a well known local fish buyer down at Scrabster, as seen on T.V.!!!
The sadder part of the life of the “wire”, or the telegram, was the all too frequent carrying of sad tidings from War, the first notification of all too many deaths. Woundings were also notified by wire, and the first our grandfather knew of his Dr. son David’s injury in France in 1915 was a wire Notification from the War Office that he had been wounded. David himself had not thought fit to tell his parents, considering it not worth worrying them. He was honoured with an M.C. for that episode in No Mans Land, out with a stretcher party succouring wounded men.
During both World Wars the sight of a boy with a telegram was heart stopping in a small Island, the tidings all too frequently guessed in advance.
And Caithness was there too in the early days of telegraphy and the “wire”. In 1843 Caithness man Alexander Bain, credited as from Watten though born in Thurso Parish, invented and patented a device that could be considered the first facsimile machine. He called his invention a "recording telegraph". Bain's telegraph was able to transmit images by electrical wires.
(Wikpedia) “Alexander Bain and his twin sister Margaret were born in October 1811 of humble parents in the little town of Thurso, at the extreme north of Scotland. Their dad was a crofter, and he had six sisters and six brothers. They grew up in a remote stone cottage at Leanmore, a few miles north of Wick”
Caithness can justifiably be proud of him. He went a long way from “Wird o’ mooth”.
No 81 Boys Knives
A long time ago, but yesterday too. Rain On My Window (Tears in My Eyes) will be an ongoing tale of my early memories of life shared by my younger brother David on Whitehall Farm in Stronsay, Orkney, of our childhood on a working farm in the 1930s before we lost our innocence.
No 81 Boys Knives
Every boy needed a knife. Back to my first schooldays in the North School again, though I still have to do the Central School where I did my last three years at Stronsay Schools. And in this present day “no knives” culture, we lived then when the ownership of a knife was such a distinguishing mark of a very young boy’s growing up. To own one was a matter of great pride.
At School we had slate pencils of course, mentioned in the North School article of 18th April 2008, which sometimes needed a bit of sharpening. And lead pencils which needed frequent sharpening as the lead either wore down or broke.
Pencils came in many guises, thick, thin, hard, soft, AA, BB, crayon and coloured pencils. An indelible pencil of a purplish shade which was frowned upon as it could not be rubbed out with any ease at all.
They all needed sharpening, and all the boys had penknives, though some were a bit older than others before getting one, and the trust of their parents. My very first one was a present from my surgeon Uncle John who had a professional interest in knives anyway!!! I was rising six in 1935 when he came on a visit home from Invercargill in New Zealand, and I had just recently started the North School. Mother-of-pearl handle, two bladed, neat, one large blade at one end, one smaller blade at the other. It made for a certain deal of self importance which I have never lost – so they say !!!.
That I now had a knife like the other boys and like my father made for a feeling of being quite grown up. To be trusted with a knife was great.
With the knife came instructions and demonstrations on its use, do it this way, do not do it that way, and shown the reasons why. How to open and close your knife without cutting yourself. How to sharpen your knife. What kind of stone off the beach made the best sharpener. Whetted with a bit of spit when needed. Learning to do simple every day things then was a part of life which seems to be getting neglected in some ways today in this computer age, but all is not yet entirely lost.
And so to School, able now to sharpen my own pencils. There were many ways of so doing. A really sharp knife worked well with the away stroke, but we had to go to the iron stove to do so and sharpen the pencil into the coal bucket to keep the floor clean. A blunt knife was still usable, but not with the away stroke, you were guaranteed always to break the new point just as you had got it properly sharp. !!
.
Still, even a blunt knife had it’s own method. Support the pencil tip with your thumb and with the knife held in the curled four fingers of the same hand cut towards the thumb. Amazingly, and H.S.E. would not allow such a thing today, it was just impossible to cut yourself or your thumb this way. Your thumb supported the tip so you could cut towards yourself without danger. Total control. Done carefully there was no breaking of a treasured newly sharpened point, and to have a really sharp pencil point was again a matter of honour. Some boys had a talent for pencil sharpening, Jim Stout from Linksness comes to mind. A good seaman and coxswain of the Stronsay Lifeboat later in life. Some, myself included, just got by.
.
A razor sharp knife was a matter of pride. Frequently someone was challenged as to who had sharpened his knife, and in my case it was Ould Pat Shearer who was the magician. He always had and treasured a special small beach stone in his pocket, just the right shape, a shallow groove worn into it from much use. The stone had come from the beach at Skaeval, a superb sheltered picnic spot on the Westside of Rousam Head, one of our favourite spots. A peculiar hard pebble stone could be found among the many others on the beach.
Spit on the stone, a few rubs and razor sharpness. Yet when we tried it ourselves we could not do it. Never ever. The final test was to be able to cut a hair, or with grown men to shave a little hair off their forearm, showing off a bit. I do not think modern knives are made of the same steel, and will not take or keep the same edge, too soft.
Pencil sharpening by the girls was totally different. No knives but here and there one of the girls had a pencil sharpener. They were actually very efficient but infectious pride forbade any of the boys from using one, cissy.
The penknife had many other uses. Surreptitiously carving your initials on many a long suffering school desk was one, difficult to deny to the teacher when the initials were your own and on your own desk. Some desks in the old school were really a lexicon of bygone scholars, some we knew but were now grown men.
Pick out a thistle from your finger, a careful job. Or a splinter of wood. Clean and trim your finger nails!!. Dissect a flower to see how it worked. Peel the outer sharp bristles from a Scotch Thistle flower head to get at the tiny tasty cheese inside. Skin and gut a rabbit caught in the dyke on our way home from School, presenting our mother with an oven ready carcase. We were always humoured by having it cooked, tasted like good chicken if the rabbit was young enough, just above half grown was best.
Pick a tiny hole with the sharp point of the small blade in either end of a bird’s egg to blow it and add it to our small amateurish collection. A hanging offence today of course, but birds do seem to be much less plentiful now. We were taught never to take more than one egg from any one nest, leave the others to hatch in due course. We were indeed environmentalists before the word was invented.
And whittling. Find a bit of drift wood on the beach that looked like something or other and better shape it. Carve a wooden pipe and bore a hole through the stem with a thin wire heated at one end in the farm smiddy forge. Time consuming and a few burnt fingers. Gouge out the bowl with the brace and bit in the farm workshop. When completed cadge a bit of baccy from Jock o’ Sound the cattle man to try it out. Sick as a dog afterwards. Put me off smoking for life. A good cure.
There were many other uses for a knife of course, but far too many to try to enumerate. A boy’s life long ago without a knife was just impossible.
.
No 81 Boys Knives
Every boy needed a knife. Back to my first schooldays in the North School again, though I still have to do the Central School where I did my last three years at Stronsay Schools. And in this present day “no knives” culture, we lived then when the ownership of a knife was such a distinguishing mark of a very young boy’s growing up. To own one was a matter of great pride.
At School we had slate pencils of course, mentioned in the North School article of 18th April 2008, which sometimes needed a bit of sharpening. And lead pencils which needed frequent sharpening as the lead either wore down or broke.
Pencils came in many guises, thick, thin, hard, soft, AA, BB, crayon and coloured pencils. An indelible pencil of a purplish shade which was frowned upon as it could not be rubbed out with any ease at all.
They all needed sharpening, and all the boys had penknives, though some were a bit older than others before getting one, and the trust of their parents. My very first one was a present from my surgeon Uncle John who had a professional interest in knives anyway!!! I was rising six in 1935 when he came on a visit home from Invercargill in New Zealand, and I had just recently started the North School. Mother-of-pearl handle, two bladed, neat, one large blade at one end, one smaller blade at the other. It made for a certain deal of self importance which I have never lost – so they say !!!.
That I now had a knife like the other boys and like my father made for a feeling of being quite grown up. To be trusted with a knife was great.
With the knife came instructions and demonstrations on its use, do it this way, do not do it that way, and shown the reasons why. How to open and close your knife without cutting yourself. How to sharpen your knife. What kind of stone off the beach made the best sharpener. Whetted with a bit of spit when needed. Learning to do simple every day things then was a part of life which seems to be getting neglected in some ways today in this computer age, but all is not yet entirely lost.
And so to School, able now to sharpen my own pencils. There were many ways of so doing. A really sharp knife worked well with the away stroke, but we had to go to the iron stove to do so and sharpen the pencil into the coal bucket to keep the floor clean. A blunt knife was still usable, but not with the away stroke, you were guaranteed always to break the new point just as you had got it properly sharp. !!
.
Still, even a blunt knife had it’s own method. Support the pencil tip with your thumb and with the knife held in the curled four fingers of the same hand cut towards the thumb. Amazingly, and H.S.E. would not allow such a thing today, it was just impossible to cut yourself or your thumb this way. Your thumb supported the tip so you could cut towards yourself without danger. Total control. Done carefully there was no breaking of a treasured newly sharpened point, and to have a really sharp pencil point was again a matter of honour. Some boys had a talent for pencil sharpening, Jim Stout from Linksness comes to mind. A good seaman and coxswain of the Stronsay Lifeboat later in life. Some, myself included, just got by.
.
A razor sharp knife was a matter of pride. Frequently someone was challenged as to who had sharpened his knife, and in my case it was Ould Pat Shearer who was the magician. He always had and treasured a special small beach stone in his pocket, just the right shape, a shallow groove worn into it from much use. The stone had come from the beach at Skaeval, a superb sheltered picnic spot on the Westside of Rousam Head, one of our favourite spots. A peculiar hard pebble stone could be found among the many others on the beach.
Spit on the stone, a few rubs and razor sharpness. Yet when we tried it ourselves we could not do it. Never ever. The final test was to be able to cut a hair, or with grown men to shave a little hair off their forearm, showing off a bit. I do not think modern knives are made of the same steel, and will not take or keep the same edge, too soft.
Pencil sharpening by the girls was totally different. No knives but here and there one of the girls had a pencil sharpener. They were actually very efficient but infectious pride forbade any of the boys from using one, cissy.
The penknife had many other uses. Surreptitiously carving your initials on many a long suffering school desk was one, difficult to deny to the teacher when the initials were your own and on your own desk. Some desks in the old school were really a lexicon of bygone scholars, some we knew but were now grown men.
Pick out a thistle from your finger, a careful job. Or a splinter of wood. Clean and trim your finger nails!!. Dissect a flower to see how it worked. Peel the outer sharp bristles from a Scotch Thistle flower head to get at the tiny tasty cheese inside. Skin and gut a rabbit caught in the dyke on our way home from School, presenting our mother with an oven ready carcase. We were always humoured by having it cooked, tasted like good chicken if the rabbit was young enough, just above half grown was best.
Pick a tiny hole with the sharp point of the small blade in either end of a bird’s egg to blow it and add it to our small amateurish collection. A hanging offence today of course, but birds do seem to be much less plentiful now. We were taught never to take more than one egg from any one nest, leave the others to hatch in due course. We were indeed environmentalists before the word was invented.
And whittling. Find a bit of drift wood on the beach that looked like something or other and better shape it. Carve a wooden pipe and bore a hole through the stem with a thin wire heated at one end in the farm smiddy forge. Time consuming and a few burnt fingers. Gouge out the bowl with the brace and bit in the farm workshop. When completed cadge a bit of baccy from Jock o’ Sound the cattle man to try it out. Sick as a dog afterwards. Put me off smoking for life. A good cure.
There were many other uses for a knife of course, but far too many to try to enumerate. A boy’s life long ago without a knife was just impossible.
.
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