[guide.chat] In Reply To: [guide.chat] from Elizabeth: A Trip Down Memory Lane
- From: "James Liddell" <james.liddell2@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- To: "Elizabeth Kay" <ebeth.kay@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>, "Guide.chat" <guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2012 11:37:15 +0100
Brilliantly written, Elizabeth.
I, too, was/am a country boy. Although Auchinleck was a former mining town, it
is surrounded by countryside, and the Boswell and Dumfries house estates have a
great amount of woodland. Hills surround us - the Leadhills, Louther hills and
the moorland stretching toward Lanarkshire.
We used to get up with the sun and ramble till it set - in the summertime,
that means from about half past four until eleven o'clock. Funny, we were never
bored; walking, finding ruined farm cots, seeing deer, badger, hare, otter and
even pine marten in the estate woods - from which we were, of course,
technically excluded; but as long as no damage was done, the gamekeepers didn't
bother. "No damage" included us coming home laden with blackberries, brambles,
crab apples, wild strawberries and mushrooms.
We used to explore places from which we were excluded with abandon; The
Boswell mausoleum, last resting place of James Boswell and his ancestors and
descendants, was a favourite place for ghost stories. We used to scour the
moorland, looking for marker stones where the martyrs of the "Killing Times"
were shot on sight and buried there and then. Covenanting heritage is still
strong in the area. On airdsmoss, where a battle between "Bluidy Clavers" -
James Graham of Claverhouse, later "Bonnie Dundee", and Richard Cameron and a
band of Covenanters resulted in the latter's death, and burial, minus heads and
hands, which were taken to Edinburgh. We actually found musket balls: I have
one beside me as I type this, enclosed in a solid plastic bubble.
Thanks again for sharing your memories, and allowing me to dredge up mine!
Jim.
-----Original Message-----
From: Elizabeth Kay - Email Address: ebeth.kay@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Sent On: 23/08/2012 10:25
Sent To: Guide.chat - Email Address: guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Subject: [guide.chat] from Elizabeth: A Trip Down Memory Lane
MY Childhood Days (seen through rose tinted glasses)
I shall always remember the cottage where I was born,safe and snug in a
secluded spot in the middle of a row,with friendly neighbours round us,
I remember the coal fire burning brightly in the shiny black grate which was
polished with fervour by my mother
every friday morning, the day housework was done.
I remember Monday was washing day,the kitchen full of steam and the flgged
floor wet with splashings from the dolly tub.I hated Mondays.
Tuesdays I loved this was the day my mother made buttermilk bread and was also
the day my much loved comic arrived.
I ran all the way home from school full of joyous anticipation of curling up
before the fire to read my comic
and then to feast on the glorious slices of food for the gods my mother put
before me.
I remember we were surrounded by miles and miles of fields and meadows.
From my bedroom window on a winter's night I could see the lights of a far away
town twinkling across the distance.
I picked out one of them and wove a fanciful dream around it.
At the bottomof the field that sloped away from the cottages,hidden and secret
from the world, a tumbling brook disappeared into a dark tunnel, full of
exciting possibilities for imaginative minds. We picked our way through in the
darkness,treading on the stones so we did not get our feet wet.
Beypnd the brook was a hillside covered with buttercups and daises in the
spring and bushes full of blackberries in the autunn. Further afield were ponds
where we could fish for sticklebacks using a bent pin for the worm on the end
of a string tied to a garden stick. Our catches were taken home in a jam jar
with a string handle.
I remember the summer house a secluded retreat where my cousin Jean and I spent
many happy hours. We had large families of small dolls which cost about two
pence each in old money. These wore dresses made from scraps of material form
my mother's rag nag. The dolls lived out our dreams
I remember th excitment pf pace egg day at Easter time. May Day celebrations
and Whitsuntide Walks, paper chains made for Christmas long before the time
when they could be hung.
Such were some of the joys of childhood in the first decade of my life. A
special time to remember for the way it was.
-----
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