Scottish Book Trust Podcast

Liam: Hello and welcome to the Scotland’s Stories podcast. I am Liam McCallum and I’ll be your host for this podcast series exploring the stories of Scotland. In this podcast series we’ll hear stories of adventures, big and small. Every year, we ask people across Scotland to share their true stories with us. We feature all the stories on our website and include a handful of our favourites in a free book as part of Book Week Scotland. This podcast shares a few of these tales.

In this episode we’ll hear about treasures, quests and possibilities. Join us as we explore new beginnings and hear Scotland’s Stories of Adventure.

Our first tale is a poem called ’Treasures Fae the Ebb’ by Ingrid Grieve

Ingrid Grieve: Bits o driftwid
bonny stones
sea gless green and blue
shells aal shapes and colours
a grottie buckie too

a bottle top
a seabirds skull
a rusty owld padlock
a piece o Sunday china
wedged atween the rocks

a scarrimans heed
in shellmaleens
o purple pink and blue
waashed up ware o reds, greens, golds
a myriad o hues

a selkies heid
abune the waves
ancient folklore eyes
a glisk o light
oot in the haaf
fae a glettan late voar sky

whitemas, kittos
malliemacks
glide kithy winds wae glee
singan high pitched seasalt shanties
tae the bass runge o the sea

the whisper
o the marram
as it dances on the dune
the seaspray scatter on the rock
the gousters whistlan tune

the crashan waves
the shore birds song
the wind percussion sand
a cacophony o music
fae the shoreside skiffle band

Liam: Next is a story called Quest by Lynn Blair

Lynn: Not there. But here, now…

Lie on cold ground, watch the insects move, and the wind dance a dizzy with long grass. Follow the woodlice and discover their home. There’s a world of intrigue under that flowerpot.

Let today be different.

At dawn, go outside, watch the clouds drift over, majestic forms on a slow push to elsewhere. Care for one. Place your mind in the folds of its cloak and drift a bit, upwards, outwards. The drone of rush hour be damned. You’re here. Here. Put an ear to the earth and listen to its depth. Fill your mind with roots. Things will tilt and shift. Your ground.

…is where you can find good things,

You don’t need a bucket list, twenty destinations, or a death wish.

Instead: walk barefoot on cold grass, in snow, on ice and remind yourself you’re wild. Stand in the rainstorm and listen to the beat, pat, pat, of the droplets. Move. There are books in that library you’ve never read, whole worlds and characters paused there, awaiting the browse of your mind. Swim in the sea but be still awhile; part of the waves and the strangeness of salt. Later, you’ll tuck in your Mer- tail (others might find it distracting) but it won’t stop you climbing a tree and sitting awhile unseen, a witness to the leaves. Turn the wrong way out the station. Choose the ugly place and look for a diamond. It's right there, right here, all around you. Leave others to their choices. Adventure is found in your quest to make the most of a rainy Monday, a week with an empty wallet, a day when everything goes wrong. You know how this life is. You know how it goes. How quickly.

After dark, lie with a blanket under the stars, conducting a symphony of satellites. Regret nothing. Tend the small spaces. Touch what’s not inviting. Be grateful. Seek.

Deep days, wide and full.

Liam: Here is a poem called Rue by Mae Diansangu

Mae: Wir bodies are stories.

Hers is freshly scrieved.

Saft an swak wi newness.

Mine’s a bitty teuch, wi a

“bin aroon the block”—ness.

She is easier tae read.

Nae secret self swirlin roon her

een. Insteid, some fierdy wards

set in amber: nivver hud ontae

a moment langer than it lasts.

I waatch her filter the warld

through that wee broon neb.

Ahin a nuvelty. Ivry olfactory

receptor a hame fur opportunity.

A curious tongue keeks oot,

slaikin ower fresh possibilities.

The wye her body meets ilka

day, hiz learnt me tae

slow

doon

an

sniff oot

adventure

in

the maist

familiar

corners.

So we tak wir bodies an wir stories

fur a wak. An we mak the warld

mair whole an newer. A callerness

sets ower the auldest routes I ken.

We traik them, again an again.

Blithe, glaikit, and content

tae spy summin new

in ivry sauchelt neuk.

Liam: Thank you for listening to the Scotland’s Stories podcast. To hear more about the Scotland Stories project, Book Week Scotland or Scottish Book Trust please visit the Scottish Book Trust website. Happy Book Week Scotland

The Scotland’s Stories podcast has been brought to you by Scottish Book Trust as part of Book Week Scotland. Thank you to our funders Creative Scotland.

This podcast was produced by Nyla Ahmad, Gordon Connelly and Danny Scott

This podcast was edited by Halina Rifai.

Liam: Hello and welcome to the Scotland’s Stories podcast. I am Liam McCallum and I’ll be your host for this podcast series exploring the stories of Scotland. In this podcast series we’ll hear stories of adventures, big and small. Every year, we ask people across Scotland to share their true stories with us. We feature all the stories on our website and include a handful of our favourites in a free book as part of Book Week Scotland. This podcast shares a few of these tales.

In this episode we’ll hear a story about trusting yourself and two wonderful poems, one of which is in Gaelic. Join us as we explore new beginnings and hear Scotland’s Stories of Adventure.

Our first tale is called ‘Route 90’ by the Stranraer Open Book reading group. It was written by Gillian, Jane, Jean, Joan, Nikki, and Kathryn

Gillian, Jane, Jean Joan, Nikki and Kathryn: As I set out—

I hope I can read my maps.

I hope I have packed enough snacks.

As I set out—

I see pebbles, small and glittery.

I see pebbles grow larger, sharper and more difficult.

As I set out—

I know my best friend will meet me at the end.

I know I will enjoy my time with her.

As I set out—

I learn that small things don’t matter.

I learn that I can live life differently.

As I set out—

I feel free. It’s an escape. 

I feel no sadness.

As I set out—

I welcome unspeakable beauty and deep wisdom.

I welcome Fear as it passes by me and I journey on.

Don’t turn back.

The house is empty.

Liam: Next is Sumayya Usmani’s Ode to Wanderlust.

Sumayya Usmani: This has always been my favourite cafe in London, especially during springtime. I spent so many warmer days here when I lived in London, a time when I felt melancholic about how I was passing my life by in my thirties as a lawyer. I’d look out from the full-length windows taking in the ephemeral beauty of floral baskets dangling from the Victorian lamp posts thinking of how I longed to make a career out of something creative instead.

As I take a sip of my nearly cold cappuccino I’m distracted by the effervescence of teenage university students sitting at the table on my left talking about job fairs and internships. I pretend not to listen while pushing away the twinge of regret that lost time often conjures up - what if I had chosen differently three decades ago? I turned fifty a couple of months ago and all I seem to be doing is indulging in monumental self-reflection. What if I had studied creative writing instead of law, and begun a career in writing when I was twenty instead of forty? Wouldn’t I have been more financially secure and fulfilled now? The questions block my writing flow so I resort to you, my diary, instead.

Maybe our true calling doesn't always fall in our laps at eighteen, maybe you need to live a little before it finds you. A lot of how I’ve figured out life’s decisions has been by trusting my intuition and by returning to writing. Writing was always a place of solace, somewhere that my thoughts could come alive without judgement.

From those lonely years on and off merchant vessels as a child to when I settled in Pakistan - a country that was meant to feel like home but never did - it seems that the only place I felt at home was before an empty diary page. You never offered unhelpful advice or told me what path to take, what you did was allow me to let go of trying to be someone I really wasn’t - even though I didn’t realise that then.

At fifty I have many questions, fears and hopes, dear diary. Is it too late for me now? Am I on a career path that has now passed me by and I won’t have fulfilled my golden years?

By fifty wasn’t I supposed to have figured life out?

Childhood never felt permanent, followed by an adolescence of wrong relationships and even worse friendships. In Pakistan I was battling against conformity. I tried and failed marriage as a means of escape from the expectations of being a Pakistani woman. Why couldn’t I just be like everyone else?

What if I had just reached towards writing earlier? But law was the expected, sensible choice and so I dulled my creative spark. But then there were those moments when I’d see myself shine as I took on new hobbies and artistic endeavours - but expectation arrested my progress each time. I was torn between other people’s definitions of an ideal life and not knowing who I really was.

‘Finding a career that fits you, makes you who you are’ - that's what Daddy always said. I used to envy watching other peers growing up, finding their calling. I never felt that way about the law. Each day at university I felt my intellect was lacking because I couldn’t grasp most concepts. I got away with convincing people I understood law with my big mouth and my ostensibly ambitious nature. I spent so long pretending that I almost convinced myself creativity really wasn’t my calling and probably best left as a hobby.

But here I am, dear diary, on the precipice of change. Would the longing for words and wanderlust lead me to true freedom? Am I out of my depth? What if I fail?

But there are times I know this path feels right: when creativity enters my body as electricity I have never felt before, when shivers run down my back as words flow because they want to and not because I need them to. I know that words are my freedom when I read what I’ve written and am in awe of my own potential to tell a story.

Is respecting my own talent the door to adventure I so seek?

So here I am with writing guiding me into a brave new world. But it doesn’t mean I’m not battling disbelief and fear. Is it too late, does becoming a writer at fifty mean anything, or is it just the first drop in the ocean of the future I’m meant to have? So now as I step into the skin I was born for I find myself naturally following that trusted friend: my intuition. This year I take a leap towards the future I have longed for - a master’s degree in creative writing and working on ideas for future books that I’ve often scribbled in my journals.

Maybe this is the secret to eternal adventure: self-belief and not letting age be crippling. People say I don’t look my age - maybe it’s because I’m still filled with the exuberance of eighteen. I look over to the excited teEnagers at the table across from me and smile. I see the feigned confidence I too once had and then I look at my reflection in the window and I recognise this woman now. I’m the woman I want to be.

As I pay the bill and gather my belongings to step into the early London spring sunshine I accept that finding yourself at fifty means you have an opportunity to rewind life with the privilege of experience to guide the adventure ahead. Maybe a life of wanderlust only comes to you when you have the confidence to believe in your true potential.

Liam: Next is a Gaelic Poem called Ainm ur by Victoia Maciver.

Victoria Maciver: Cliog, cliog is tha thu a-steach
sàbhailte, sèimh is socair.
Coisichidh sinn a-mach an doras
an dòchas
nach tillidh sinn idir.

Thug thu dhomh ainm ùr
nuair a’ ràinig thu
ro thràth
dà mhìos roimhe.

Nuair a choinnich sinn
eadar uinneag chruaidh
ann an taigh-ghlainne
gun lusan
no aiteas.

Chuala mi an rèidio ciùin
a’ cluich
le fuaim na h-innealan.
Am fàileadh geur
a dh’ ionnsaigh orm
mar meanbh-chuileagan
as t-Fhoghar.

Do dhealbh nam phòcaid
cho faiceallach
preusant on dotair ciallach.
‘On oidhche a dh’ fhalbh thu
sa bhogsa plastaig
an dithis againn ar fàgail
aonranach.

Ach dh’ fhàs thu làidir
is dh' fhàs thu slàn
san àite a thachair
sinn còmhla.

Choisich mi a-steach nam “Tori”
ach dh’ fhàg mi nam Mhamaidh.
An t-ainm ùr as fheàrr leam
as motha.
An diugh, sa màireach
gu siorraidh.

Liam: Thank you for listening to the Scotland’s Stories podcast. To hear more about the Scotland Stories project, Book Week Scotland or Scottish Book Trust please visit the Scottish Book Trust website. Happy Book Week Scotland

The Scotland’s Stories podcast has been brought to you by Scottish Book Trust as part of Book Week Scotland. Thank you to our funders Creative Scotland.

This podcast was produced by Nyla Ahmad, Danny Scott and Gordon Connelly

This podcast was edited by Halina Rifai.

Liam: Hello and welcome to the Scotland’s Stories podcast. Every year, we ask people across Scotland to share their true stories with us. We feature all the stories on our website and include a handful of our favourites in a free book as part of Book Week Scotland. This podcast shares a few of these tales. In this episode we’ll hear about witches, walks and needing a wee. Join us as we go into the wild and hear Scotland’s Stories of Adventure.

Our first tale is called ‘So Many Ordinary Women’ by Gill Ryan.

_So Many Ordinary Women – 7 minutes 46 seconds _

Gill Ryan:

Despite our best efforts, we couldn’t locate a map of the Fife Witches Trail, so we set off without one, trusting local knowledge to keep us right. All we had were the names of three villages whose infamy lies in their history of killing women accused of witchcraft during Scotland’s dark times. Torryburn, Valleyfield, Culross. If we were expecting the haunted guilt of a Salem-type community, what we got was three picturesque coastal towns peopled by the friendliest of folk.

The Torryburn carpark had information boards, but no mention of the Witches Trail. We wandered through the village asking people along the way. No one seemed to be quite sure what we meant. Not a shifty denial of the village’s dark past, but a genuine look of bemusement when we mentioned a plaque. A kind cyclist went out of her way to get directions and told us to look near the bridge. Another directed us along a woodland path in the opposite direction, towards the Witch's Tower. Like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story where you keep a finger in the book to return to the other option, we picked both.

The trail through the woods became progressively eerier until we found ourselves surrounded by hundreds-of-years-old yew trees bent into wonderfully weird shapes. One looked like draped limbs, crossing its legs and leaning in for a blether. Another was apparently weeping blood; the coagulated red sap and the cleft in the trunk it flowed from looked like a menstruating vulva.

The victims of the Scottish witch trials of the 17-18th centuries were ordinary folk; wifies who knew herbal remedies, brewers, powerless servant girls, widows who owned land, pious women (and men) shocked to be named by others under torture. It’s unlikely any of them considered themselves a witch. Had there been actual witches though, this yew grove felt like a mystical space they’d have met in. Next to it, the Witch’s Tower, a large private house built over the remains of a 17th century one, was a letdown.

As we headed back along the coastal path, what we thought was the Witch's Rock, where women accused of witchcraft were tried by drowning, was visible out in the bay. Seeming to be accessible at low tide, we risked wading out across the outwardly firm mudflats, using seaweed as handholds. We abandoned our foolishness when the mud tried to steal our boots and locals on the coastal path stopped to look out at us with concern. The tide can come in rapidly on this small bay on the Firth of Forth. Anyway, as we discovered later, it was the wrong rock.

Back on shore, we met a more knowledgeable local couple and discovered that the nameless bust on a plinth near the car park is Lilias Adie, the only “witch” to have a known grave. Accused of fornicating with the devil, Lilias refused to name others under torture and died before she could be executed. With luck the couple could point out her intertidal grave, only accessible at low tide, which was still in our favour. A solid, thick, maybe metre-long sandstone slab with no obvious markings was placed over her grave to prevent the devil from reanimating her. The "hulking half-ton" slab didn’t protect her from grave robbers though and poor Lilias’s remains were divvied out among universities and antiquarian collectors.

From the beach, we scrambled over the low wall to the roadside beside the railway bridge and found the plaque remembering Lilias, lying on the verge in line with her grave slab. Finding the beautiful bronze disc in the grass was like stumbling upon treasure. It’s illustrated with Adie's face and a surround of plants, Torryburn buildings, a crescent moon and a prancing devil. "They feared she would rise from the dead", it reads. "How could she as she was an ordinary woman". We spent a few moments contemplating Lilias's life and unjust fate, the disc a portal to a past that felt strangely less distant.

Its location is not at all obvious and less determined adventurers may not have found it. The Valleyfield plaque proved even more elusive. We stopped dozens of people as we trudged along the coastal path in the rain, the May afternoon having turned suddenly dark. They were unfailingly friendly and wanted to be helpful. Some knew of the Torryburn and Culross ones but none that their local plaque sits under the information boards at the entrance to Valleyfield Woods, as we discovered driving back up the road later. This one also remembers Adie, "an innocent victim of unenlightened times." As we lingered, a bus pulled up and deposited a walking group, who congregated near the boards. We willed them to look down and notice the plaque. Nobody did.

There's no missing the Culross one. It's under the information board by the bus stop facing the Town Hall. One of writer Sara Sheridan’s Witches Unite stickers marks the spot. The heritage village of Culross’s cobbled streets, tiny houses and terracotta-coloured palace with a wee cafe tucked in behind it mask its bloody history. With a population of about 600 people in the 1600s, this small community murdered 32 of its women. "So many ordinary women", reads the plaque.

The lives of the women, the brutal times they lived in and their restless ghosts were brought vividly to life for us by Linda from National Trust Scotland. She pointed out the tiny top floor windows of the Town House where the accused were imprisoned and tortured. They apparently still make their presence felt with otherworldly noises and unexplained incidents. They’re not at peace and we don't blame them for still raging at the injustices and indignities they suffered. On International Women's Day 2022, then First Minister Nicola Sturgeon issued a state apology for the witch trials, followed later by an apology from the Church of Scotland. Work is ongoing to issue a legal pardon of the victims of this massive-scale miscarriage of justice. Maybe then they'll rest. Maybe.

Liam: Next we hear the humorous tale ‘The Camping Pee’ by Hazel Knox

_The Camping Pee – 2 minutes 17 seconds _

Hazel Knox:

Fumbling around in the dark I wonder when I morphed into a caterpillar, but this isn’t an insect body, it’s a sleeping bag and I have a bigger problem. Every camper’s nightmare is my miserable reality. It’s the middle of the night and I need to pee.

Flipping over, I face my happily snoring brother. If only we could swap places: me blissfully asleep, his bladder begging to be emptied. Maybe if I lie on my back . . . No, that’s worse. If I curl up? Nope. If I curl up and think about deserts? Still need a pee. I don’t. I just need to get back to sleep. Closing my eyes, I visualise myself in peaceful slumber... on an inflatable raft, floating down a river, a waterfall gushing nearby. Argh! I need a pee and I need it bad. I hate camping.

I wriggle out of the sleeping bag, bouncing my snoozing brother on the shared lilo. Scrabbling around for a torch and jumper, I trip over the folded chairs dragged in from last night’s rain. My feet are in my wellies before I remember they too were brought in mid-shower. A zip fumble, doorway stumble and I’m squelching my way to the toilet block.

Aaaaaaaaaaaahhh!

Every inch of my body celebrates the relief. When I stroll back the pinky edges of dawn are peeking through. Two fox cubs play-fight metres from our tent, knocking droplets of dew off the long grass. The tent zip slides open and I kick my wellies off. The jumper stays on and soon I’m warm and cosy, back in caterpillar pose. My brother has turned over so the only noises are the tent flapping and birds beginning to sing. I shut my eyes, content knowing I don’t have to pee again for hours. Unlike my brother, who will wake needing one.

I love camping.

Liam: Thank you for listening to the Scotland’s Stories podcast. To hear more about the Scotland Stories project, Book Week Scotland or Scottish Book Trust please visit the Scottish Book Trust website. Happy Book Week Scotland

Rachel: Halò agus fàilte bhlàth dhuibh gu pod-craolaidh aig Urras Leabhraichean na h-Alba. Is mise Raonaid Cheanadach, agus tha mi nam riochdaire air am pod-,comharrachadh bliadhna sgeulachdan na h-Alba dà mhìle fichead ’s a dhà, le iomadh phròiseact. Agus nam measg, tha am pròiseact seo, Teine-champaidh Coimhearsnachd, neo Community Campfires, sa Bheurla.

’S e seo iomairt a chur Urras Leabhraichean na h-Alba agus Seirbheis Leabharlann Comhairle nan Eilean Siar air bhog airson sgeulachdan a chruthachadh ann an Uibhist is Barraigh. Bha carbad nan sgeulachdan a’ stad ann an diofar sgìrean bho Barraigh gu Beàrnaraigh le Luke Winter a’ stiùireadh chùisean. Feumaidh mi taing mhòr a ràdh ri Comhairle nan Eilean Siar agus Urras Leabhraichean na h-Alba airson an cothrom a bhith an sàs anns a’ phròiseact seo. Thairis air dà latha, chaidh mi còmhla ri Dòmhnall Ewan air bhana leabharlann agus ’s ann mar sin a choinnich mi ri muinntir a’ choimhearsnachd. Agus, abair gun robh spòrs againn! Chan urrainn dhomh mìneachadh gu ceart cho sònraichte ’s a bha an t-seachdain agam. ’S e urram air leth a bh’ ann a bhith a’ coinneachadh agus a’ cluinntinn na sgeulachdan pearsanta aig muinntir Uibhist. Bha sibh uile cho coibhneil agus ’s e seachdain nach dìochuimhnich mi gu bràth a bh’ ann.

Nach tòisich sinn ma-tha, leis a’ chiad neach a choinnich mi. Seo Flora, ag innse dhomh mun Drochaid Chliùiteach.

{00:01:32}

{00:01:36}

Flora:_ Nach tig thu a-staigh?

Rachel: Thig mi, thig mi a-staigh ma tha thu fhèin comhfhurtail gu leòr le sin.

Flora: Tha!

[ceòl a’ cluich]

Flora: O Thì, tha agam ri seo a chuir sìos, tha na h-òrain agam air.

Rachel: Tha sin snog.

Flora: ’S e an aon phastime agam a h-uile latha, ag èisteachd ris a wireless.

Uill, thog sinne an taigh seo ann an 1983 agus bha naoinear theaghlach againn. Uill, bha deichnear ann. Naoi ghillean agus an tè is oige, ’s e nighean a fhuair sinn mu dheireadh, air an ‘tenth’. Agus bhàsaich fear de na gillean. Bhàsaich Sheumais òg agus tha sin ann an seo. Uill tha iad pòsta a chuid is motha – No, tha an gille as sine a’ fuireach còmhla rium-sa, Don. Tha e a’ fuireach a-staigh. Agus an còrr dhuibh tha iad pòsta air feadh an àite. Agus tha còig-deug- sia-deug grandchildren agam. 

Agus tha an gille agam air an taigh aige thogail  shìos ann a shin. Agus sin far a bheil Taigh na Drochaid. Agus mun drochaid a bha shìos ann an sin, nuair a chaidh mi dhan sgoil an tòiseach, naoi-deug – 1953, chaidh mise air an sgoil an toiseach – is chan fhaodadh sinn an drochaid chloiche a choiseachd idir, ’s e drochaid fiodh a bha sinn a’ coiseachd. An t-seann drochaid. Ach an uair a chuir iad fence air an drochaid, dh’fhaodadh tu a shiubhail – a’ chlann-sgoile. Bha sgoile ann an Cill Èireabhagh. Is dh’fhaodadh sinn coiseachd a-null agus, o, thuit an drochaid fhiodh. as a chèile cha robh daoine ga h-ùisigeadh co-dhiù an uair sin. 

Ach an uair sin nuair a thàinig an Corona-virus, bha na gillean agam a-staigh – na h-oghaichean agam a-staigh, agus rinn iad suas gun togadh iad an dà dhrocha- an t-seann drochaid. Agus chruinnich iad airgead bhon teaghlach uile, is fhuair iad cement is pòlaichean is maidean is dè nach d’ fhuair iad, is chur iad air dòigh an drochaid. Agus rinn iad dè – bha eilean anns a’ mheadhan aice, agus chlìor iad an t-eilean, agus a-nis tha àite airson barbeque aca. Bidh parties aca ann a shin. Agus sin an drochaid a rinnear an Drochaid Chliùiteach. Cluinnidh tu am port, bha an t-òran ann cuideachd. Boireannach a bha a-muigh an rathad. Rinn i an t-òran. Ach uncail an duine agam, Uilleam, bhàsaich esan o chionn bliadhna nam bliadhnaichean, thàinig am boireannach thuige agus thuirt i “tha mi air an t-òran a dhèanamh dhan drochaid ach chan urrainn dhomh fonn a chur air.”

Agus an oidhche a bh’ ann, bha bò aig Uilleam a’ breith anns a’ bhàthach agus bha e a-mach is a-staigh anns a’ bhàthach agus bha e mun bhàthach. Agus thàinig e a-staigh an trup a bha seo, agus thuirt e, “tha mi air fonn a chur air an òran.” Agus sin mar a chaidh am fonn na Drochaid Chliùitich a dhèanamh. Agus an còrr, chan eil an còrr really a’ dol a-muigh an taobh seo ach sinn fhèin! Tha an drochaid a’ dol a-nis. Tha iad ag usaigeach an dà dhrochaid fhiodh.

{00:04:31}

Rachel: Bha e cho snog coinneachadh ri Flora agus a’ cluinntinn an sgeulachd aice. Mo thaing chuideachd do Anna Mhoireach a bha a’ cluich An Drochaid Cliùiteach air na pìoban. Cluinnear tòrr fuaim anns an ath chlàradh. A-rithist, fhuair sinn cuireadh airson copan teatha agus cèilidh ann an taigh aig Kenny agus Annie. B’ urrainn dhomh a’ bhith air fuireach fad an latha ag èisteachd ri na sgeulachdan aca, ach seo dìreach criomag beag den chòmhradh againn. Bha Kenny ag innse dhomh mu na làithean aige aig muir, agus a bhith gu math fada bhon taigh air soitheach an Ceap Grenville agus mu na thachair dha.

{00:05:06}

Kenny: Bha na Canèidianaich cho measail air an uisge-beatha ‘s a bha na Yanks, bha iad uile ga ghoid. Co-dhiù. Tha seo uile fìor, fhios ‘ad, bidh cuid ag ràdh – Chan eil mi ag innse bhreugan.

Nuair a bha sinn ann an Bhancùbhar, air madainn Disathairne - thug am bosun dhuinn Disathairne dheth, agus leum mi air bus, dìreach gus am faicinn an sgìre ionadail. B’ e gheamhraidh a bh’ ann. Reothadh. Gun sneachd, ach reothadh, agus chaidh mi gu Westminster Ùr. Fhios ‘ad, b’ e siud a’ chiad bhaile. Agus nuair a bha am bus a’ tighinn faisg air a’ bhaile, chunnaic mi crann bhàtaichean, eil fhios agad, agus dh'fhaighnich mi dhan dràibhear, am b' urrainn dhomh faighinn dheth. Agus choisich mi chun a’ chidhe. Fhios ‘ad, [far] an robh na bàtaichean. Saoil cò ris an do thachair mi? Fear à Beinn a’ Bhadhla, à Lionacleit! Còig mìle sìos an rathad! Fhios ‘ad? Taigh a phàrantan. 

'S thuit a ghiall, “Dè tha thusa a’ dèanamh an seo?!”  “Dè tha thu fhèin a’ dèanamh an seo?!” Sin agad e, iongantach. Seadh, Willie Shepherd. Agus bha siud ann an 1953 agus bha a’ bhàta aige dìreach a’ seòladh. B’ e – Bha e air bàta sgràthail, fhios ‘ad. Staid uabhasach dona. Biadh dona, a h-uile rud. Bha e air tìr a’ ceannachd uachdar-fhiaclan agus siaban, fhios ‘ad? Is iad dìreach gu bhith a’ seòladh, fhios ‘ad, bho Westminster Ùr. Agus bha siud ann an 1953. 

Uill, chan fhaca mi Willie gu mu ceithir no còig bliadhna air ais. Chuir mi sgeulachd anns a’ Ghazette mu dheidhinn, fhios agad, am pàipear beag, Back in the Day. Fhios ‘ad? Mun Cheap Ghrenville? Oir b’ àbhaist tòrr seòladairean sin a dhèanamh. Is smaoinich mi, och, nì mi mo dhìcheall, agus chuir mi sgeulachd ann. Fhios ‘ad, mu na balaich à Leòdhas? Agus an t-uisge-beatha is a h-uile sìon, agus smaoinich mi gun d’ thuirt mi gun do thachair mi ri Willie. Agus mar a thachair, chunnaic bràthair Willie ann an Lionacleit e agus chuir e am pàipear gu a bhràthair, Willie ris an do choinnich mi ann a’ Bhacùbhar, bha esan a’ fuireach air tìr-mòr , bha e muir fhàgail agus air a dhol dhan phoileis agus, eil fhios agad, beatha gu tur eadar-dhealaichte. Mar sin chuir Willie am pàipear thuige. Agus thàinig Willie suas an seo sa bhad agus bha deagh choinneamh againn às dèidh na bha sin d’ bliadhnaichean. Fhios ‘ad? Bho 1953 gu, dè bhiodh ann o chionn còig bliadhna, 2018?

{00:07:30}

Rachel: Abair sgeulachd snog bho Kenny an sin. Gu stòraidh a chur gàire air m’ aodann, seo Alasdair MhicAsgaill, ag innse dhomh mun àm a ghabh e biadh còmhla ri a’ Bhanrigh Ealasaid agus Diùc Dhùn Èideann, nach maireann.

{00:07:47}

Alasdair: Bha mi nam aoigh aig lòn leis a' Bhan-rìgh agus Diùc Dhùn Èideann, agus bha mi fortanach gu leòir a bhi nam shuidhe aig bòrd còmhla ris an Diùc, agus a' Bhan-rìgh na suidhe aig bòrd eile. Agus bha e na dheagh chuideachd, bha craic math againn aig àm lòn, agus dìreach nuair a thàinig e chun a’ phàirt mu dheireadh is iad gar frithealadh le cofaidh, thionndaidh e timcheall agus thuirt e “Cha toil le mo bhean mi ag òl cofaidh”. Agus an sin thòisich i air seasamh, agus bha sin a' ciallachadh gum feumadh sinn uile seasamh suas, agus thionndaidh esan mun cuairt agus thuirt e “Nach d’ thuirt mi riut!”

{00:08:21}

Rachel: Taing Alasdair airson an stòraidh beag snog sin. Às dèidh sinn, choinnich sin ri Ciorstaidh, a dh’innis dhuinn an sgeulachd seo, mu nighean a piuthar agus cho moiteil ’s a tha i innte.

{00:08:50}

Kenny: Anns a’ ghlasadh-shluaigh, bha i – chuir i seachad tòrr ùine san leabaidh agus air-loidhne, agus chaill i i-fhèin, dha-rìribh. Agus cuideachd, bha i air fàilligeadh na deuchainn ìrea A aice, tha mi a’ smaoineachadh, dà uair. Cha robh i dìreach – agus mar sin, tha cùrsa ealain sgoinneil an seo, an Teisteanas Nàiseanta, airson – agus tha mi a’ toirt taic – agus tha mi a’ modaladh an sin, Bidh mi uaireannan a’ teagasg cuideachd, ach em, bha mi a’ modaladh an sin an-uiridh. An ann an-uiridh? Seadh. Agus thuirt mi ri – fhios agad, bha mi ag innse do dh’Anna mu dheidhinn nighean mo pheathar, agus thuirt mi, “tha feum aice air toiseach tòiseachaidh as ùr”, agus thuirt i “uill tha seo, fhios agad, ‘s e toiseach tòiseachaidh fìor mhath a tha seo.” Mar sin, chuir mi fòn thuice agus thuirt mi dè do bheachd mun seo? Agus bha mi a’ smaoineachadh, o Dhia, an tèid agam air fuireach còmhla rithe? [gàire] ‘S e taigh beag bìodach a tha seo, tha mi air a bhith a’ fuireach leam fhìn airson dusan bliadhna no faisg air.

Ach, em, – Thuirt i “mm, smaoinichidh mi ma dheidhinn”. Agus thuirt i, “’s dòcha an ath-bhliadhna” agus thuirt mise “cha bhi an tairgse ann an ath-bhliadhna”. [gàire] ‘s e am-bliadhna no na bodraig. Agus em. Seadh, thàinig i suas - bha beagan ùine againn a’ feuchainn mar a rachadh leinn agus gu ìre mhòr bha e suarach! Agus bha an dithis againn a’ smaoineachadh, o Dhia, chan urrainn dhuinn seo a dhèanamh. Ach an uairsin, air dòigh air choireigin fhuair sinn fuasgladh air cùisean eadarainn. Bha e dìreach doirbh, fhios ‘ad. Bha i cleachdte ri bhith na h-aonar cuideachd, agus bha mise cleachdte ri bhith nam aonar. Tha athair aice ach chan eil e ann – mu thimcheall. Agus an uair sin, seadh, thòisich i air a’ chùrsa agus fhuair i obair cuideachd anns an taigh-bìdh ann a sheo. Agus tha i dìreach air soirbheachadh gu tur. Agus tha e dìreach air a bhith sònraichte math. Agus tha an obair aice uabhasach brèagha, agus mar sin chan e dìreach toiseach tòiseachaidh a th’ ann, tha e air a bhith mar, seadh,  seo an rud a tha i airson a dhèanamh. Tha i airson a dhol dhan sgoil ealain agus -

Mar sin feumaidh i falbh – tha i a’ dol a Dhùn Èideann airson bliadhna airson, em, HND a dhèanamh gus an urrainn dhi an uair sin a dhol air adhart agus – tha i a’ dol a chur iarrtas gu sgoil ealain Albannach oir tha i cuideachd dèidheil air Alba. Tha I a’ smaoineachadh gur e an t-àite far am bu choir dhi a bhith. Mar sin tha e air a bhith na thionndadh math, iongantach, gu dearbh. Agus tha gaol aig a h-uile duine oirre an seo, oir tha i fhathast a’ caitheamh frasgan meallta agus [gàire] sgiortaichean goirid agus [gàire]. Tha tòrr spòrs ann. Seadh. Tha sin air a bhith, na dheagh sgeulachd nam bheatha.

{00:11:04}

Rachel: Taing mhòr Ciorstaidh airson na sgeulachd agad. Nise, that sinn a’ dol a chluinntinn bho Roddy Shaw agus na thachair dha nuair a thàinig an cianalas air san sgoil.

{00:11:29}

Roddy: Mar a dh’fhalbh sinn à Bearnaraigh aig dusan bliadhna dh’aois, gu sgoil an Tairbeirt anns na Hearadh, is cha robh sinn a’ faighinn dhachaigh uabhasach tric idir. Ach latha a bha seo thàinig an cianalas orm agus theich mi às. Agus choisich mi dhan t-Òb a-nuas. Agus dh’fhòn mi m’ athair , agus chan eil fhios ’am dè cho fad ’s a thug mi air coiseachd ach a h-uile trup a bha carbad a’ dol seachad tha mi a’ falach air cùl creig anns na Hearadh. Bha na creagan gu math handy na làithean sin! [laughs] Agus em, dh’fhòn mi m’ athair às an t-Òb ag iarraidh air thighinn a-null agus thug an seann duine a bha siud a-null dha na Hearadh e air an oidhche. ‘S e an oidhche a bh’ ann mun àm sin, agus bha e a’ fàs dorch agus thàinig am ‘matron’ a-nuas gam iarraidh. Cha robh i uabhasach toilichte. Bha iad air a bhith a’ coimhead air mo shon fad an latha! Thug iad ais air mi an uair sin agus an ceann a dhà no trì mìosan às dèidh sin, chuir iad a Sgoil Ceann a’ Bhàigh mi ann an Uibhist thall. Ann am Paibail Agus bha mi toilichte. Cha robh mi an sin ach bliadhna no chaidh againn ri dhol a-mach gu Inbhir Nis. So bha mi a’ muigh an Inbhir Nis airson deich bliadhna fichead. A-nis tha mi air ais ann am Beàrnaraigh mar a chanas iad, for good.

{00:12:29}

Rachel: Taing a-rithist Roddy airson sgeulachd sin. Beagan comhairle bho Iris Steedman a-nis, agus a dh’innis dhuinn mar a ghluais i bho baile mhòr gu Beàrnaraigh, Uibhist.

{00:12:47}

Iris: Na can a chaoidh nach dioch. Chan eil fios agad dè tha dol a thachairt nad bheatha. Bidh cuid ag ràdh, o cha dèanainn sin a-riamh. Cha rachainn an sin uair sam bith. Na can sin, chan eil fios agad dè tha dol a thachairt. Dèan nas urrainn dhut leis a bheatha a th’ agad. Chan urrainn dhut a chuir seachad airson daoine eile, feumaidh tu a bhith beò dhut fhèin. Son do chèile. Gu cinnteach, airson teaghlach, ach feumaidh tu cuideachd na tha thu airson a dhèanamh a dhèanamh. No ‘s dòcha gum bi aithreachas ort mura dèan thu sin. Oir is dòcha gum biodh aithreachas oirnne mura biodh sinn air tighinn an seo. Dh’ fhaodadh sinn a ràdh, nah. Agus bha daoine ag ràdh, “Carson a tha thu airson a dhol an sin?” “Ach tha thu a’ fàgail do theaghlach!” Agus thuirt mise, “Faodaidh iad tighinn gam fhaicinn.” Tha iad sean gu leòr a-nis gum faodadh iad fhèin falbh an àite sam bith agus bhithinn’sa air m’ fhàgail leam fhìn. Smaoinich mi - nì sinn – Tha – Tha sinn airson seo a dhèanamh.

Is mar sin, sin a rinn sin. Agus tha sinn uabhasach toilichte gun d’ rinn.

{00:13:41}

Rachel: Taing Iris airson an sgeulachd agad. Fhuair sinn còmhradh snog bho Mòrag Thorne agus i ag innse dhuinn mar a choinnich i ris an duine aice.

{00:14:06}

Morag: Uill, ’s e water engineer a bh’ ann, agus bha e ag obair ann an Inbhir Nis. Agus bha mise ag obair sa phost-office ann an Loch Baghasdail. Sin a’ chiad – chaidh mi ann nuair a bha mi còig-bliadhna-deug, nuair a dh’fhàg mi an sgoil. Agus tha – bha esan a’ gearain leis a’ ‘bhoss’ aige ann an Inbhir Nis, nach robh e a’ faighinn dha na h-eileanan idir. Agus thuirt Mr Forsythe ris, uill an ath thuras, gheibh thu dha na h-eileanan. ’S cò an t-eilean dha d’thàinig e ach Uibhist a Deas! [laughs] Agus sin far an do thachair sinn. Agus phòs sinn ann an 1959 agus bha sinn pòsta airson 57 years. So, em, sin mar a thachair sinn.

Rachel: Agus an e love at first sight a bh’ ann? Cho luatha ’s a –

Morag: Feumaidh gur e! [laughs] Nuair a thachair sinn, cha chreid mi gun robh ach co-la-deug do dh’obair aige ann an Uibhist agus dh’fhalbh esan a Inbhir Nis agus dh’fhalbh mise an uair sin agus chaidh mi a Ghlaschu is bha sinn air ais is air adhart às a sin.

{00:15:11}

Rachel: Bha e cho snog bruidhinn ri Mòrag agus a’ cluinntinn nan sgeulachdan aice. Choinnich sinn cuideachd ri Alasdair Fortune, a bha air na saor-làithean aige. B’ àbhaist dha a bhith ag obair ann an leabhar-lann ann an Dùn Èideann, agus nuair a chunnaic e bhan an leabhar-lann, thàinig e a-nall a bhruidhinn rinn, agus tha sinn cho toilichte gun d’thàinig, oir dh’innis e dhuinn an sgeulachd seo.

{00:15:35}

Alasdair F: Ceart, seo sgeulachd bheag dhuibh. Thòisich mi a’ coiseachd Slighe Innse Gall Dihaoine sa chaidh. Thòisich mi ann a Bhatarsaigh, thàinig mi suas tro Bharraigh agus an uair sin tha mi a’ smaoineachadh gur e Beinn a’ Bhadhla a th’ ann. Em. An dara cuid Beinn a’ Bhadhla neo Uibhist a Deas, far a bheil Ostail Howmore, tha ostail aig Urras Gatliff an sin. Bha mi a’ coiseachd suas gu tuath, troimh fìor throm gaoithe tuath. Gu math sgìth le caraid agam, agus em, ràinig sinn ostail Urras Gatliff far an robh sinn an dùil an oidhche a chuir seachad, agus bha soidhne beag air an doras ag ràdh, is dòcha gum bi sinn a’ fosgladh tràth san Ògmhios. Mar sin dh’ fhaighnich sinn mun cuairt, ach cha robh àite ann airson fuireach, cha robh làrach campachaidh ann, cha robh em, goireasan ann, cha robh taigh-òsta ann. Bha e dha-rìribh cho garbh ‘s nach biodh e comasach dhuinn campachadh. Cha b’ urrainn dhuinn teantaichean a chur suas. Bhiodh e air a bhith uabhasach duilich sin a dhèanamh, agus mar sin thug sinn sùil mun cuairt oirnn, agus chunnaic sinn gu robh eaglais ann. Eaglais air leth eireachdail. Gu follaiseach air a h-ùrachadh o chionn ghoirid. Mar sin chaidh sinn a-steach airson beagan fasgadh fhaighinn bhon ghaoith. Agus shuidh sinn ann agus dh'fhuirich sinn ann airson greiseag, agus em, cha d'thàinig duine airson an doras a ghlasadh, mar sin thuirt sinn, uill, is dòcha gum faod sinn fuireach an seo a-nochd. Mar sin chleachd sinn an taigh beag, mar cidsin airson còcaireachd. Bha sinn a’ smaoineachadh gu robh e beagan mì-choltach a bhith a' còcaireachd am broinn na h-eaglaise. Bha sin caran eas-urramach, agus mar sin rinn sinn ar beagan còcaireachd anns an taigh-beag, anns an robh, fhios agad, uisge. A h-uile rud air an robh feum againn. Agus an uair sin chaidh sinn, em, a chadail airson na h-oidhche. Dh’ fhàg sinn ar bòtannan a-muigh agus nota beag air an doras ag innse do dhuine sam bith a thadhladh - gun robh sinn am broinn na h-eaglaise agus gun eagal a bhith orra nuair a thigeadh iad a-steach. Tràth an ath mhadainn, phaisg sinn an stuth againn, dh’fhàg sinn nota beag ann an leabhar an luchd-tadhail ag ràdh, em, tapadh leibh gu mòr, thug sibh fasgadh dhuinn bhon stoirm.

{00:17:49}

Rachel: Mo thaing Alasdair airson an stòraidh beag snog sin. Agus mo thaing don a h-uile duine ris an do choinnich sinn agus a dh’aithris sgeulachd. Tha mi a’ dol gur fàgail le òran gu math iomchaidh. Seo Trail West le Eilean Uibhist Mo Rùin.

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùin

Eilean cùbhraidh nam beann

Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

B’ e mo dhùrachd bhith ann

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

B’ e mo shòlas bhith air m’ eòlas

San eilean bhòidheach ud thall

Far am faic mi mo chàirdean

’S gheibhinn fàilte nach gann

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Far am faic mi fìr òga

Ghearradh mòine nan deann

’S a ghearradh snasail an t-eòrna

’S a chuireadh dòrlach sa bhann

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Far am faic mi fìr liatha

Glic-bhriathrach nan cainnt

Mean-bheachdach sean-eòlach

A’ toirt seòladh don chloinn

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Far am faic mi mnathan uasal

Aoigheil, uallachal, trang

Tha ro-ainmeil nan stòltachd

’S an gnìomh dòigheil nan làimh

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Tha coibhneas is bàigh

’Gabhail àit’ ann an com

Gach neach a chaidh àrach

Fo sgàile nam beann

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Bi aoigheachd is fàilte

Gu bràth feadh nan gleann

Fad ’s a bhuaileas air tràigh

Boinne sàile nan tonn

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

’S e slàn leis na dh’fhàg mi

Bheir mo dhàn-sa gu ceann

’S le m’ phiuthar, ’s le m’ bhràithrean

’S le m’ phàrantan thall

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Eilean cùbhraidh nam beann

Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

B’ e mo dhùrachd bhith ann

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Eilean cùbhraidh nam beann

Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

B’ e mo dhùrachd bhith ann

An Eilean Uibhist mo rùn

Rachel: Hello and a warm welcome to the Scottish Book Trust’s podcast. I’m Rachel Kennedy, and I am the producer of this podcast for the Western Isles. Scottish Book Trust is marking Scotland’s Year of Stories 2022 with lots of projects. And among them is this project, Teine-Campaidh Coimhearsnachd, or Community Campfires, in English.

This is a project that the Scottish Book Trust and Western Isles Library Services established to create stories in Uist and Barra. The Story Wagon stopped in different districts from Barra to Berneray, with Luke Winter guiding things. I’d like to give huge thanks to the Western Isles Council and Scottish Book Trust for giving me the opportunity to be involved in this project. Over two days, I travelled with Dòmhnall Ewan in the mobile library van and that’s how I met with people in their communities. And what fun we had! I can’t emphasise enough how special my week was. It was a great honour to be meeting with and hearing the personal stories of the people of Uist. You were all so kind, and it’s a week I will never forget.

Why don’t we start with the first person I met. This is Flora, telling me about An Drochaid Cliùiteach [the Famous Bridge.]

{00:01:32} {00:01:36}

Flora: Won’t you come in?

Rachel: Yes, I’ll come in if you’re comfortable with that.

Flora: Yes!

[music playing]

Flora: Oh goodness, I have to turn it down, my songs are on.

Rachel: That’s nice.

Flora: It’s the only pastime I have every day, listening to the wireless.

Well, we built this house in 1983 and we had nine of a family. Well, there were ten of them. Nine boys and the youngest was a girl, we finally got a girl, our tenth. And one of the boys died. Seumas died young and we have been here since. Most of them are married. The oldest boy lives here with me, Don, he lives at home. And the rest of them are married all over the place. I have fifteen, sixteen grandchildren.

And my son has built himself a new house here. The new house that’s down there. And that’s where Bridge House is. And about the bridge that was down there, when I first went to school in, 19 – 1953 I started at school – and we weren’t allowed to walk on that stone bridge at all, we walked on the wooden bridge. The old bridge. But when they put a fence on the bridge, and the family – the school children, the school was in Kilerivagh [Cill Èireabhagh] and we could walk across. And och then the wooden bridge fell to pieces, well no one was using it anyway then. But then when the Coronavirus came, my boys were at home – my grandchildren were here and they decided that they would rebuild the two bridg- the old bridge. And they collected money from the whole family, and they bought cement and poles and planks and what didn’t they get, and they repaired the bridge. And they made a – there was an island in the middle of it, and they cleared the island and now they have a place for a barbeque. They have parties there. And that’s the bridge that was called An Drochaid Cliùiteach [the Famous Bridge]. You’ll hear the tune, there’s a song too. A woman out the road wrote the song. But my husband’s uncle, William, he died a good few years ago, the woman came to him, and she said, “I’ve made a song about the bridge, but I can’t find a tune for it.”

And that particular night, William’s cow was calving, and he was in and out and about the byre. And he came in this time and he said, “I’ve put a tune to the song.” And that’s how the tune for An Drochaid Cliùiteach [the Famous Bridge] was made. And there’s not really much else goes on around here are apart from that! The bridge is still going and now they are using the two wooden bridges.

{00:04:31}

Rachel: It was so nice to meet Flora and hear her story. My thanks also to Anna Murray who played An Drochaid Cliùiteach on the pipes. There’s a lot of background noise in this next recording. Again, we received an invitation for a cup of tea and a ceilidh in Kenny and Annie’s house. I could have happily stayed all day listening to their stories, but here is a little flavour of our conversation. Kenny was telling me about his days at sea and being far from home on the ship the Cape Grenville and about what happened to him.

{00:05:06}

Kenny: The Canadians were as keen on the whisky as the Yanks, they were all stealing it. So, anyway. All this is true, you know, some people say – I’m not telling breugan.

When we were in Vancouver, on Saturday morning we had – the bosun gave us Saturday off, and I jumped on a bus, and em, just to see a bit of local territory. It was winter, em. Frosty. No snow, but frosty, and I went to New Westminster. You know, that was the first town. And as the bus was approaching to the town, I saw ships masts, you know, and I asked the driver, could I get off. And I ambled along to the pier. You know, where the ships were. Guess who I met? A Benbecula guy, from Liniclate! Five miles down the road! You know? His parent’s home. 

And his jaw dropped, what are you doing here – Dè tha thusa a’ dèanamh an seo?! Dè tha thu fhèin a’ dèanamh an seo?! So there you are, amazing. Yeah, Willie Shepherd. And em, that was in 1953, and, em, his ship was just sailing. It was a – He was on a terrible ship, you know. Terrible bad conditions. Bad food, everything. He was on shore buying toothpaste and soap, you know? They’re just about to sail, you know, from New Westminster. And that was in 1953. 

Well, I didn’t see Willie until about four or five years ago. I put a story in the Gazette about, you know, the wee paper em, Back In The Day. You know? About the Cape Grenville? Because a lot of sailors used to do that. So I thought, och I’ll do my best, and I put a story in it. You know, about the boys from Lewis? And the whisky and all this, and I think I added meeting Willie. So the result was Willie’s brother in Liniclate saw it and he sent the paper to his broth- em, Willie that I met in the Vancouver.- He was staying on the mainland – He’d left the sea and joined the police and, you know, and he had a whole different life altogether. So Willie sent him that paper. So, Willie came up here right away and we had a good reunion after all these years. You know? From 1953 till, what was it five years ago, 2018?

{00:07:30}

Rachel: What a lovely story that was from Kenny. To a story that brought a smile to my face, this is Alasdair MacAskill, telling me about a time he had lunch with her Majesty Queen Elizabeth and the late Duke of Edinburgh.

{00:07:47}

Alasdair: I was a guest at a luncheon with the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh, and I was fortunate enough to be sat at a table with the Duke and the Queen was at another table. And he was very good company, we had good craic during lunch, and just when it came to the final bit of serving up coffee, he turned round and said “my wife does not like me drinking coffee”, upon which she started to stand up, which meant we all had to stand up, and he turned round and said “told you so!”

{00:08:21}

Rachel: Thanks, Alasdair, for that lovely wee story. After that, we met Kirsty, who told us this story, about her sister’s daughter and how proud she is of her.

{00:08:50}

Kenny: During lockdown, she really – I mean she spent a lot of time in bed and online, and she just kind of lost it, really. And also, she’d failed her A levels, I think, twice. I mean, she just wasn’t – and so, em, there’s this fantastic art course here, the National Certificate, for – and I support – and I model there, so. I mean, I also sometimes teach, but em, I was modelling there last year. Was it last? Yeah. And em, and I just said to – you know, I was telling Anne about my niece, and I said, “she needs a reset”, and she said “well this is, you know, it’s a really good reset.” So, you know, I phoned her up and said what do you think about it? And I was thinking, oh my God, can I live with her? [laughs] This is a tiny house, I’ve lived on my own for twelve years or something.

But em – And, em, she said “mm, I’ll think about it”. She said “maybe next year”, and I said “the offer’s not on next year”. [laughs] it’s like, this year or. And em. So yeah, so she came up for – we had a little trial period which was mostly a nightmare. And we both thought, oh my God, we can’t do this. But then somehow we sort of resolved things between us. It was just difficult, you know. She’d been used to being on her own as well, really, and I’d been used to being on my own. She’s got a dad but he’s not, no, not really there. So. And then she, yeah, she started the course and she also got a job in the bistro here. And she’s just completely flourished. And it’s just been really, really great. And her work’s absolutely beautiful, so it’s not just been a reset, it’s been like, yeah, this is what she wants to do. She wants to go to art school and –

So she’s got to go – she’s going to Edinburgh for a year to do, em, an HND so that she can then go on and – she’s going to apply to a Scottish art school because she’s also really keen on Scotland. Thinks it’s the place to be. So it’s been a real good, wonderful turnaround, actually. And everybody loves her here, because she still wears false eyelashes and [laughs] mini-skirts and [laughs]. There’s a lot of fun. So yeah. That’s been, that’s a good story in my life.

{00:11:04}

Rachel: Thank you Kirsty, for your story. Now, we are going to hear from Roddy Shaw and what happened to him when he was homesick at school.

{00:11:29}

Roddy: When we left from Berneray at twelve years old, we went to school in Tarbert in Harris, and we didn’t get home very often at all. But one day I got homesick, and I ran away. And I walked down to Leverburgh. And I phoned my father and, I don’t know how long I had walked for but every time a car went past I hid behind a rock in Harris. The rocks were very handy in those days! [laughs] And I phoned my father from Leverburgh asking him to come over and this old man took him over to Harris that night. It was night by then, and it was getting dark and the matron came down to get me. She wasn’t too happy. They had been searching for me all day! They took me back then and some two or three months after that, they sent me to Bayhead School over in Uist. In Paible. And I was happy. I was only there for a year when we all had to transfer out to Inverness. So I was out in Inverness for thirty years. Now I’m back in Berneray as they say, for good.

{00:12:29}

Rachel: Thanks again Roddy for that story. A little advice now from Iris Steedman, who told us about how she moved from a big city to Berneray, Uist.

{00:12:47}

Iris: Never say never. You don’t know what’s going to happen in life. See people say, oh I would never do this. I would never go there. Don’t say never, you don’t know what’s going to happen. Make the most of what life you’ve got. You can’t live it for other people, you have to live it for yourself. For your partner. Yes, for family, but you’ve also got to do what you want to do. Otherwise you might regret it if you don’t. Because we would probably have regretted it if we hadn’t come here. We could have gone, nah. And you had people saying, “what do you want to go there for?” “But you’re leaving family!” And I said, “they can come and see me.” They’re old enough now that they could disappear goodness knows where, and I’m left on my tod. I thought, no, we’ll – It’s – We want to do this.

So we’re going. And we’re really glad that we did.

{00:13:41}

Rachel: Thank you Iris for your story. We had a nice conversation with Mòrag Thorne, who told us how she met her husband.

{00:14:06}

Morag: Well, he was a water engineer, and he was working in Inverness. And I was working in the post-office in Lochboisdale. That’s the first – I went there when I was fifteen, when I left school. And it’s – he was complaining to his boss in Inverness that he never got an opportunity to go to the islands at all. And he … Mr Forsyth said to him, “Well next time you can go to the islands. And which island did he come to but South Uist! [laughs] And that’s where we met. And we got married in 1959 and we were married for 57 years. So, em, that’s how we met.

Rachel: And was it love at first sight? As soon as –

Morag: It must have been! [laughs] When we met, I don’t think he had more than a fortnight’s work in Uist, and he left for Inverness and I left then and I went to Glasgow and we were back and forth from then.

{00:15:11}

Rachel: It was so nice to speak to Mòrag and to hear her stories. We also met Alasdair Fortune, who was on his holidays. He used to work in a library in Edinburgh, and when he saw the library van, he came over to speak to us, and we are so pleased that he did because he told us this story.

{00:15:35}

Alasdair F: Ok, here’s a little story for you. I started em, walking the Hebridean Way last Friday. I started off in Vatersay, came up through Barra and then I think it’s Benbecula. Em. Either Benbecula or South Uist, where the Howmore Hostel is, the Gatliff Trust have a hostel there. Been walking up into northernly, really heavy northernly wind. Absolutely exhausted with a friend of mine, and em, we got to the Gatliff trust hostel where we were hoping to spend the night, and there was a little sign on the door saying, we’re maybe opening in early June. So we asked around, there’s nowhere to stay, no campsite, no em, facilities, no hotel. It was actually blowing such, such a gale that we couldn’t really camp. We couldn’t put up the tents. It would be very difficult to do that, so we had a wee look around, and we saw there was a church. A very handsome looking church. Obviously recently renovated. So we went in to get a little bit of shelter from the wind. And we sat there and stayed there for a while, and em, nobody came to lock up, so we said, well, maybe we can stay here the night. So we used the toilet, as a kitchen to cook. We just thought it was slightly inappropriate to cook inside the church. That seemed a little bit irreverent, so we did our little bit of cooking in the toilet, which had, you know, running water. Everything we needed. And then we, em, bedded down for the night. We left out boots outside and a little note on the door telling anyone who came not – that we were inside so don’t get a fright when they come inside the church. Early the next morning, we em, packed up our stuff, left a little note in the visitor’s book saying, em, thank you very much, you’ve given us shelter from the storm.

{00:17:49}

Rachel: My thanks, Alasdair, for that lovely wee story. And my thanks to everyone we met and who shared their stories with us. I’m going to leave you with a very appropriate song. This is Trail West with Eilean Uibhist Mo Rùin [My Beloved Island of Uist].

My Beloved Island of Uist

Fragrant island of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

It’s my wish to be there

My Beloved Island of Uist

I would be overjoyed to be on familiar ground

In the beautiful island yonder

Where I would see my relations

And receive a tremendous welcome

My Beloved Island of Uist

Where I will see young men

Cutting peats quickly

Neatly cutting the barley

And tying the sheaf

My Beloved Island of Uist

Where I will see grey-haired men

Eloquent in their speech

Precise in their opinions, worldly wise with age

Giving advice to the children

My Beloved Island of Uist

Where I will see noble ladies

Kindly, proud and hard-working

Renowned for their steadiness

And their excellent handiwork

My Beloved Island of Uist

There is kindness and affection

That comes from within

Each person brought up

In the shade of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

There will always be hospitality and welcome

Forever throughout the glens

As long as each salty droplet of the waves

Hits the shore

My Beloved Island of Uist

Bidding farewell to those I left

I will bring my poem to a close

To my sister, to my brothers

And my parents yonder

My Beloved Island of Uist

Fragrant island of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

It’s my wish to be there

My Beloved Island of Uist

Fragrant island of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

It’s my wish to be there

My Beloved Island of Uist

Rachel Kennedy: Hello! I'm Rachel Kennedy, and I'm one of the Podcast producers for the Community Campfires 2022 from the Scottish Book Trust.

2022 is Scotland's Year of Stories. We've been setting up camp in North Ayrshire, Inverclyde, Fife and the Western Isles. In these places, we've been asking communities if they have a story to tell. We spend a few days interviewing people and then on the final day, the community meets to hear not just the recordings, but live readings, films, photography and sounds from our Digital Storyteller, poetry and audience discussion. We also have Luke Winter's beautiful Story Wagon as a warm meeting point for local tales. In this final podcast, we partnered with Western Isles Libraries. I had the privilege of going along with library driver, Dòmhnall Ewan Morrison, and meeting some of the Uist community as they visited the Library Van. I can't quite put into words how magical the week was. The kindness shown to us was incredible, and it was so lovely to meet so many people willing to share their stories. It really was a week I will never forget. So let's begin with the first person we did meet. This is Flora, talking about her family and the Lockdown project they undertook rebuilding An Drochaid Cliùiteach, which in English, translates as The Famous Bridge. The first part of our conversation is in Gaelic, but she retells part of the story in English.

{00:01:36} Flora: Won’t you come in?

Rachel: Yes, I’ll come in if you’re comfortable with that.

Flora: Yes!

[music playing]

Flora: Oh goodness, I have to turn it down, my songs are on.

Rachel: That’s nice. Flora: It’s the only pastime I have every day, listening to the wireless.

Well, we built this house in 1983 and we had nine of a family. Well, there were ten of them. Nine boys and the youngest was a girl, we finally got a girl, our tenth. And one of the boys died. Seumas died young and we have been here since. Most of them are married. The oldest boy lives here with me, Don, he lives at home. And the rest of them are married all over the place. I have fifteen, sixteen grandchildren.

And my son has built himself a new house here. The new house that’s down there. And that’s where Bridge House is. And about the bridge that was down there, when I first went to school in, 19–1953 I started at school – and we weren’t allowed to walk on that stone bridge at all, we walked on the wooden bridge. The old bridge. But when they put a fence on the bridge, and the family – the school children, the school was in Kilerivagh [Cill Èireabhagh] and we could walk across. And och then the wooden bridge fell to pieces, well no one was using it anyway then.

But then when the Coronavirus came, my boys were at home – my grandchildren were here and they decided that they would rebuild the two bridges- the old bridge. And they collected money from the whole family, and they bought cement and poles and planks and what didn’t they get, and they repaired the bridge. And they made a – there was an island in the middle of it, and they cleared the island and now they have a place for a barbeque. They have parties there. And that’s the bridge that was called An Drochaid Cliùiteach [the Famous Bridge]. You’ll hear the tune, there’s a song too. A woman out the road wrote the song. But my husband’s uncle, William, he died a good few years ago, the woman came to him, and she said, “I’ve made a song about the bridge, but I don’t have a tune for it.”

And that particular night, William’s cow was calving, and he was in and out and about the byre. And he came in this time, and he said, “I’ve put a tune to the song.” And that’s how the tune for An Drochaid Cliùiteach [the Famous Bridge] was made. And there’s not really much else goes on around here are apart from that! The bridge is still going and now they are using the two wooden bridges.

[In English] There was a crowd of them. The ones on the mainland came home, they were all down there with quads and tractors, you never saw the place so busy [laugh]. Taking telephone poles and whatnot to build the bridge, so how they managed to build them and... I can't sing but I know the song, but if you hear the tune An Drochaid Cliùiteach, you'll know it was that bridge that was made for, that's the new bridge. The wood uh, the stone one. Cos when it was built first, it fell. And there was a big disaster then. And they had to rebuild it. So, the old woman put this in the song and everything. It's a very nice song.

[Bagpipe music playing]

Rachel: Thank you Flora, for sharing your story. Thank you as well to Anna Murray, who you heard playing An Drochaid Cliùiteach on the bagpipes. The next story I have for you is from Kenny MacLean. You'll hear a little background noise in this one, as we were kindly invited into Kenny and Annie's home for a cup of tea and some shortbread. I could have happily stayed all day listening to Kenny's stories and about his escapades at sea, as a young sailor.

Kenny: The Canadians were as keen on the whisky as the Yanks. They would all steal it. So, anyway.. Oh, this is true, you know, some people say I'm not, telling breugan. [lies]

When we were in Vancouver, on Saturday morning we had, the bosun gave us Saturday off. And uh, I jumped on a bus, just to see a bit of local territory. It was winter. Frosty, no snow, but frosty. And I went to New Westminster, you know, that was the first town. And as the bus was approaching the town, I saw ship's masts. And I asked the driver; "Could I get off?" I ambled along to the pier, know, where the ships were. Guess who I met? A Benbecula guy from Liniclate, five miles down the road, you know, his parent's home. And his jaw dropped, said ; "What are you doing here?"

"Dè tha thusa deànamh an seo?"

"Dè tha thu fhèin deànamh an seo?"

So there you are now. Amazing. Willie Shepherd and uh, that was in 1953, and uh, his ship was just sailing, he was on a terrible ship, you know. Terrible, bad conditions, bad food, everything. He was ashore buying toothpaste and soap, you know. They were just about to sail, you know, from New Westminster and that was in 1953.

Well, I didn't see Willie until about four or five years ago. I put a story in the Gazette about, you know the wee paper, Back in the Day. You know about the Cape Grenville. 'Cos a lot of sailors used to do that. So, I thought "Och, I'll do my best." And I put a story in it, you know, about the boys from Lewis. And the, and the whisky and all this. And uh, I think I added meeting Willie, so the result was... Willie's brother in Liniclate saw it and he sent the paper to his bro- Willie, that I'd met in Vancouver. He was, on the mainland he'd left the sea, and joined the Police and he had a whole different life altogether, so. Willie sent him that paper, so. Willie came up here right away and we had a good reunion, after all these years, you know, from... From 1953 til. . . What was it five years ago? 2018.

Thank you again, Kenny, for your stories. Now, to a funny story from Alastair MacAskill. As he recounts having lunch with Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth and the late Duke of Edinburgh

Alastair: " I was a guest at a luncheon with the Queen and The Duke of Edinburgh. And I was fortunate enough to be sat a table with the Duke, and The Queen was at another table. And he was very good company, we had good crack during lunch. And just when it came to the final bit of serving up, coffee, uh, he turned round and said; "My wife does not like me drinking coffee!" Upon which, she started to stand up, which meant that we all had to stand up, and he turned round and said, "Told you so."

Rachel: Thanks again Alastair. Kirsty O' Connor is next to tell us about her niece, Nisha, and how proud she is of all she's achieved. Afterwards, you'll hear Nisha tell the story, from her perspective.

Kirsty: During Lockdown, she really. . . I mean, she just spent all her time in bed, um, and online. And she just kind of lost it, really. And also, she'd failed her A-levels, I think twice. I mean, she just wasn't... And so, there's this fantastic art course here, a national certificate, and I support, I model there, so. I mean... And I also sometimes teach, but I was um, modelling there last year, was it last year? and um... And I just said to, you know, I was telling Anne about my niece and uh, I said; "She needs a reset."

And she said; "Well this is a, you know, it's a really good reset."

So, you know, I phoned her up and said; "What do you think?" And also, I was thinking "Oh my god, can I live with her?" [laugh] you know? It's a tiny house, I've lived on my own for 12 years or something. But um. . . And, she said "Mmm, I'll think about it. Maybe next year." And I said; "The offer's not on next year [laugh], it's like, this year, or. . ."

And uh, so yeah, so she came up for. . . We had a little trial period, which was mostly a nightmare. And we both thought "Oh my God, we can't do this!" But then somehow, we sort of resolved things between us. It was just difficult, you know. She'd been used to being on her own as well, really, and I'd been used to being on my own. She's got a dad, but he's. . . Not really there.

Um, so. . . And then, yeah, she started the course and she also got a job in the bistro here. And she's just completely flourished, and it's just been really, really great and her work's absolutely beautiful. So it's not just been a reset, it's been like; "Yeah, this is what she wants to do." She wants to go to art school and, so she's got to go, she's going to Edinburgh for a year to do um, an HND, so that she can then then go on and, she's gonna apply to a Scottish art school, because she's also really keen on Scotland. Thinks it's the place to be, so it's been a real, good, wonderful turnaround actually. And everybody loves her here, cos she still wears false eyelashes [laugh] her mini-skirts and. . . there's a lot of fun. so, yeah that's been. That's a good story in my life.

Nisha: So, I moved here just after kind of, the Lockdown. When Covid was still very much going on, but I think the lockdowns had all ended. And, during Covid and before Covid, I'd had quite a difficult time. Like, my mum died in 2015, and there was lots of difficult family stuff going on and education hadn't been my priority for that time. And then, during Covid, um, my auntie went; "What do you think about moving up here, and doing the art course?" 'Cos that's one of the things that brought her up here. Um, and I kind of took a leap of faith, and said "Yes" and then panicked about it for the next 3 months until it happened. And kind of on a wing and a prayer. And then moved up here in May. So this, this was decided. . . No, I came up in April, sorry. So, it was decided in February and I was here in April, so it was a very quick turnaround. And then I was living here, with my auntie, and she hadn't lived with anyone for a long time. And I'd been living with my dad, but it wasn't. . . We're more like distant flatmates than kind of, like, living together, if that makes sense. So, it had been quite a long time since either of us had really lived with someone. And so, the first month was quite challenging. And then I went home for a month and I came back for the full year, to do the art course. And it's just like, everything's just kind of completely changed since I moved up, for the better. Um yeah, the first month of us living together was quite difficult. Um, [laugh] but I think it because we had no. . . Neither of us had lived with people for quite a long time. And also, I think we both had quite difficult histories with family, our family and other family as well. And so it took us building up a lot of trust and realising that like, ultimately we weren't fighting each other during our arguments, we were fighting for our relationship to be better and. . . For everything to work and um. . . Yeah. And for her to get what she needed and me to get what I needed. And yeah, it's kind of completely changed everything, moving up here. I think the people are bloody great. Um, I've got a job that I love, working with people that I really love. The art course has been amazing. I mean, I was one of four people on my course, which is ridiculously tiny [laugh]. Um, and yeah, it's kind of everything I needed it to be and didn't know I needed it to be. And yeah, I'm very thankful to the Hebrides and Uist, and Berneray and all the lovely people on Berneray. So next, I'm off to Edinburgh. So, I completed the art course now. . . I think about a month ago, and I've got a place at Edinburgh College. Not Edinburgh College of Art, because I've got to do an HNC first. Um, so I'm moving there in August. Moving out of Brighton, where I'm originally from, and Berneray, all at the same time, which is gonna be quite a challenge. . . But yeah, spending a year in Edinburgh Doing HNC, and then going off to Uni, at some point, which'll be nice. Um, yeah. I've got a flight booked back in October, though, so I won't be gone for too long. It's definitely. . . Yeah, it's definitely got a piece of my heart, that's for sure.

Rachel: It was so lovely to meet Kirsty, and Nisha, and we really appreciate you both sharing your stories, so thank you.

Next you'll hear a story in Gaelic from Morag Thorne, as she recounts the story of how she met her husband.

Morag: Well, he was a water engineer, and he was working in Inverness. And I was working in the post-office in Lochboisdale. That’s the first – I went there when I was fifteen, when I left school. And it’s – he was complaining to his boss in Inverness that he never got an opportunity to go to the islands at all. And he. . . Mr Forsyth said to him, “Well next time you can go to the islands. And which island did he come to but South Uist! [laughs] And that’s where we met. And we got married in 1959 and we were married for 57 years. So, em, that’s how we met.

Rachel: And was it love at first sight? As soon as –

Morag: It must have been! [laughs] When we met, I don’t think he had more than a fortnight’s work in Uist, and he left for Inverness and I left then and I went to Glasgow and we were back and forth from then.

Rachel: Thank you Morag, for that sweet story. Now, to a story in Gaelic. And this time it comes from Roddy Shaw, as he recounts the action he took, when he suddenly became homesick at school.

Roddy: When we left from Berneray at twelve years old, we went to school in Tarbert in Harris, and we didn’t get home very often at all. But one day I got homesick, and I ran away. And I walked down to Leverburgh. And I phoned my father and, I don’t know how long I had walked for but every time a car went past I hid behind a rock in Harris. The rocks were very handy in those days! [laughs] And I phoned my father from Leverburgh asking him to come over and this old man took him over to Harris that night. It was night by then, and it was getting dark and the matron came down to get me. She wasn’t too happy. They had been searching for me all day! They took me back then and some two or three months after that, they sent me to Bayhead School over in Uist. In Paible. And I was happy. I was only there for a year when we all had to transfer out to Inverness. So I was out in Inverness for thirty years. Now I’m back in Berneray as they say, for good.

Thank you Roddy, for your story. Now to a story from Nina, who very kindly invited us into her home and shared so much with us. Here she tells a story of how she met her husband, Duncan, and some wise words of wisdom:

Nina: Ok, so. . . I came to a wedding up here. My brother married His cousin. and I sat down and I looked and I thought "Oh, he looks all right. Oh, in fact he looks really all right." So I said, uh - Do you wanna come in? Have you got time to come in?

Interviewer: [inaudible]

Nina: And Uh, he's enterprising. I think I recognised that when I met him. Come in

Interviewer: Thank you.

__Nina: . . . So anyway, um, we. . . I was here for a few days, I was leaving on the First of April. April Fool's Day, which you know. . .

And Uh, I met him and he said; "would you like some, prawns?" So that was how it went, I went to his boat and it was, it's an amazing. . . Things take you by surprise here. And when he was sailing in to Callan, and when he was on the prow of his boat, I saw that and I thought "Yes! I'm gonna marry that man."

When you've got good weather here, it's absolutely stunning and even if, you get grey weather, out come the rainbows, don't they Donald?

Donald: Yeah,

Nina: and then they come right over your house and, it's just dripping with money [laugh]. Absolutely dripping. Yeah, it's um. . . Life is what you make of it. That's what I believe in. And you've got to take every good point, out of everywhere.

Rachel: Thank you again, Nina. A short story now from Iris Steedman, as she recounts her decision to move to Uist.

Iris: Never say never. You don't know what gonnae happen in life. See how people say; " I would never do this. I would never go there." Don't say never, you don't know what's gonnae happen. Make the most of what life you've got. You can't live it for other people, you have to live it for yourself, for your partner. Yes, for family, but you've also got to do what you want to do. Otherwise, you might regret it if you don't. 'Cos we'd probably have regretted it if we hadn't come here. We could've gone; "Naw. . ." When you had people saying "What d'you want to go there for? But you're leaving the family." I said "They can come and see me. They're old enough now that they could disappear, goodness knows where and I'm left on me Tod." So I thought; "No, it's. . . We want to do this, so we're going." and we're really glad that we did [laugh].

Rachel: Now to our final story. And this comes from Alistair Fortune, who happened to be on Uist on holiday. Alistair used to be a librarian, and when he saw the Library Van, came over to say hello and we are very glad he did, because he told us this lovely story.

Alistair: Ok, um, here's a little story for you. I started uh, walking the Hebridean Way last Friday. I started off in Vatersay, came up through Barra, and then I think it's Benbecula. Um, either Benbecula or South Uist, where the Howmore Hostel is. The Gatliff Trust have a hostel there. Been walking up into northerly, really heavy northerly wind. Absolutely exhausted. And I'm with a friend of mine. And um, we got to the Gatliff Trust Hostel, where we were hoping to spend a night. and there's a little sign on the door saying um; "We're maybe opening in early June." So, we asked around, there's nowhere to stay, no campsite, no facilities, no hotel. It was actually blowing such a, such a gale that um, we couldn't really camp, we couldn't put up the tents, it would be very difficult to do that. So we had a wee look around and we saw there was a, a church. A very handsome-looking church, which they recently renovated, so we went in to get a little bit of shelter from the wind. And we sat there and stayed there for a while. And um, nobody came to lock up, so we said "Well, maybe we can uh, just stay here the night." So we used their. . . Toilet as a kitchen to cook, we just thought it was slightly inappropriate to actually cook inside the church. That seems a little bit irreverent, so. . . We did our little bit of cooking in the toilet, which had, you know, running water, everything we needed. And then we um, bedded down for the night. We left our boots outside and a little note on the door, telling anybody who came, that we're inside, so don't get a fright when they come inside the church. Early the next morning, we um, packed up our stuff, left a little note in the visitor's book saying, um; "Thank you very much, you've given us shelter from the storm."

Rachel: Thank you Alistair, for that lovely story. And thank you to everyone that shared their stories with us. It really was an incredibly special couple of days in Uist. I'm gonna leave you with a very fitting song from Trail West. I'm very grateful to the band for allowing me to use this song in the podcast. This is Eilean Uibhist Mo Rùin. which is a song that highlights the beauty of Uist, and the composer's desire to be back there.

My Beloved Island of Uist

Fragrant island of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

It’s my wish to be there

My Beloved Island of Uist

I would be overjoyed to be on familiar ground

In the beautiful island yonder

Where I would see my relations

And receive a tremendous welcome

My Beloved Island of Uist

Where I will see young men

Cutting peats quickly

Neatly cutting the barley

And tying the sheaf

My Beloved Island of Uist

Where I will see grey-haired men

Eloquent in their speech

Precise in their opinions, worldly wise with age

Giving advice to the children

My Beloved Island of Uist

Where I will see noble ladies

Kindly, proud and hard-working

Renowned for their steadiness

And their excellent handiwork

My Beloved Island of Uist

There is kindness and affection

That comes from within

Each person brought up

In the shade of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

There will always be hospitality and welcome

Forever throughout the glens

As long as each salty droplet of the waves

Hits the shore

My Beloved Island of Uist

Bidding farewell to those I left

I will bring my poem to a close

To my sister, to my brothers

And my parents yonder

My Beloved Island of Uist

Fragrant island of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

It’s my wish to be there

My Beloved Island of Uist

Fragrant island of the mountains

My Beloved Island of Uist

It’s my wish to be there

My Beloved Island of Uist

[Intro Music]

Chris Dooks: Hi, and welcome to Community Campfires 2022, Episode three from the Scottish Book Trust. I'm Chris Dooks, one of the podcast producers from the project, and we are also under the umbrella of the Year of Scotland's Stories.

If you've listened to the previous two podcasts, you'll know we've collected voices from North Ayrshire, Inverclyde and Fife, as well as the Western Isles.

And in this podcast, we partnered with ONFife and I spent the week at the Jennie Lee Library in Lochgelly, and two care homes in the region as well as Lochgelly Bowling Club. We start though, with Grace Ross, who visited the library, and I've given her a generous bit of airtime, because she was able to cover a lot of diverse subjects. She talks about Lochgelly and her family lineage in the area. Plus, she spoke about budgies and a place called The Happy Land and that's pretty hard to resist.

Grace: I'm holding up my mum's library ticket. Betty Straiton, 90 Munse Park, Lochgelly. She stayed at that house since she was 11 years old, til she passed away at the age of 95.

Jane Russell: My name's Jane Russell, and I work in the Library Service Development team in Fife libraries. And what happened was, the libraries put an old ticket, the oldest ticket that they've found in many-a-year, um, on our Facebook page.

Grace: I was surprised, because I seen it on Past & Present, on Facebook. AndI was surprised to see my mum's name and uh, address on it.

Jane: And we were wondering, um, actually, is this the oldest library ticket in existence? And then Grace arrived outside the library yesterday and said; "That's my mum!" [laugh] So it was actually, it was quite a nice moment.

Grace: Eh, my mum was born in the Happy Land in Lochgelly. And when the Timmon's Park houses were built, my mum's family were the first tenants in the street. My mum was engaged to my dad for nine months, but because her mum had passed away, a councillor, David Campbell, come and told my mum; "You're getting married in three weeks time, so that you can get the tenancy of this house." And they were very happy years in Timmon's Park. Everybody was like family. We went in, out and in each other's houses. if you were in somebody else's house and they were having their dinner, you got fed and vice versa. And as I say, my dad, he passed away when he was 90 and my mum passed away at 95. And... They stayed in same house all these years.

We had uh, the wooden pulleys in the kitchen. I remember my mum having a boiler and having to hang the washing out. And I remember blankets. And I went and swung on the rope, and the rope broke. . . and a' the blankets had to get re-washed [laugh] again. My mum wanted to be a Home Help, two hours a week, and my dad wasn't happy, because he was the breadwinner. We had good memories. My dad would play games with us, I'd sit on his knee and draw on his arm, or paint on his arm. He'd let me, you know. . . because you, paper. . . Pen and paper were expensive in these days. We used to go down to the loch though, at the weekends. It would be Perch, was the fish we'd catch. I never caught anything. I didn't have the patience to stand there with my fishing rod. I was quite happy paddling about in the water. But um, him, my brother and me used to go fishing every weekend. Um, in the winter, when it was snowing, we'd go down the golf course with our sledge. And my dad would haul the sledge back up and Phil and I would uh, go down.

I have one son. Uh, he's now 33. When he was small, I worked and my mum and dad watched him. And I remember my dad in the back garden with the ho-, garden hose, and he was, thingmying the water onto my son, Adam. And the phone went in the house. My dad went in the house to answer the phone, closed the door. Adam thought it'd be fun, follow him, put the hose through the front door, the letter box on the front door and try and hose my dad [laugh].

Every November, I dunno about now, but up until, every November they had a thing about budgies. A budgie show. And they've got a Grower Cup. And my grandad was the first person to bring budgies to Fife. He bought a pair, back in eighteen-hundred-and-something, from Australia, and it cost him 30 pound at that time, to buy this breeding pair. I have a couple of medals belonging to him. As I say, they were great budgie people. The Straitons took my mum, unofficially adopted her. So her mum was actually what we call a speywife. They helped with the, went with the doctor for births and deaths. She went out to farms and like, for the farmer's wife, if she's having a baby. She would stay with the farmer's wife until the baby was born and everything was fine. If somebody, if say, the farmer's wife was passing away, the doctor would come and get her, and she'd go and stay with that person until they passed away. To let the farmer carry on looking after his farm, and that's how she was called a Speywife.

Chris: Next is Mary Clarke with a novel approach to parking a caravan, and archaeological pilgrimages with the wrong shoes.

Mary: We had a great childhood, very happy. There was six of us in the family, three boys and three girls. My dad, he could turn his hand to anything. He was in the REME when he was in the Army. He was on repairing radar and things like that, so he was very technical. Uh, we got a caravan when we were a wee bit older. And I think we were in a council house and it was a slight incline, just to the side of it, to get to the garage. And it couldn't sit there because, it couldn't sit in the road cause the roads were narrow. Couldn't park, because you couldn't get out the garage, so my dad being my dad, made the doorway bigger. Took the back off the garage, pulled the caravan through, replaced the back, replaced the door. And every summer[laugh] that would come off. That was the sort of person he was, you know?

All of the miner's kids, went to Butlin's but we were taken up to. . . Once we went to Elan, because in The Scotsman, they had read that there was a discovery – He was in the Antiquarian Society. – They had discovered that there was a Beaker Man cup, found in the field. So we've trailed from, we were on holiday in Stonehaven, so we've trailed from there to Elan to look in a hole in the field. My mum had high heels on at the time, trailing through a field, to be told that it was in the local church hall in Elan, so we then had to go there. And when we got there, it was this wee thing like this [laugh]. That was our holidays, but that was normal, you know?

I was five when The Coronation took place, and there was a street party. And a Mrs. Ewens up the road on our street, organised a party for all the kids in the area. My dad made a crown out of cardboard and velvet, or artificial velvet, you know? And somebody in the street was crowned as The Queen. And I was really mad because, this girl who was about 11, got this crown and got to keep it [laugh] and my dad had made it [laugh]. You know? But it was a good time. You know, it was, it was good fun. You could understand that, I mean, a kid who. . . dad had made it.

Chris: We move on to the Abbotsford Care Home now, in Cowdenbeath where we met Jock Sneddon. Jock used to be miner and he recounts here, how long the work commute was, and the closest call of his life.

Jock: Ah've got tae talk?

[female voice, unknown]: Aye well, we know that.

Jock: Ah wis a miner, a' ma days. Ah wis a miner.

Female voice: Ah wis in a factory a' ma days.

Jock: Aye, there wis some men the place then, gaun down the mines. You had tae go down in the bogies, and oh, ye went doon there for miles. And when ye got oot, ye had tae walk for a few mile tae, then that wis ye, ye were at the coal face. There were quite a few ae oor mates got killed. Aye, there was that, quite a few ae them got killed.

Cos ah wis in Seafield. Ah don't know if ye ken where that is, that's Kirkcaldy. And eh, that's where the big accident wis, in Seafield. It was very, very serious at the time, like, ken? But if it had a been the next shift, it wouldae been me. It wis the shift before us, that eh, that got killed. And, just an explosion. That was it, an explosion and they were caught in the, the explosion, a' ma pals. Yes, it wis very, very terrible at that time, like, ken? Aye, they were quite a few ae us, a' affected with it, aye. Ah drove the big machine, that cut the coal. Ah wis a machineman and it wis eh, ma job tae drive the machine an' cut the coal. And eh, three ae ma neighbours wis killed.

It ta'en us three hours, maybe, to get to work, and then we started the machines up and started cuttin' the coal. We were in Bogeys, or little cars. Aboot mebbe, 30 ae us, and eh, we were a' transported tae our work, but that ta'en a while. That ta'en hours tae get transported tae yer work, ye know? We were there eight hours, aye it wis, uh, they were long shifts. Ah must say that. It wis a long shift, but... Ye couldnae dae nuthin' aboot it, ye had tae work. [laugh] Ye had tae get money somehows[laugh]. . . Aye.

Chris: Back at the Library, Ann Belton talks about library bosses that liked a drink. Not after, but during work.

Ann: I was 17, and I'd been sent from Carnegie Library to work in Lochgelly Library. And it was a long day. I was working with the librarian, so I was aware she was watching me. I was new to the post. So I, never halted the whole day. Tidied every single book in the library until eventually, around about five o' clock, she asked me; "Ann, will you sit on your behind for a minute?" You know, "You're making me feel lazy."

So I sat up on a green stool and thought "What do I do now? I'm just sitting here, there's nobody in the library." And after a minute or two she said "Would you like a drink?"

I said "Well, I don't drink tea or coffee."

"I'm not offering ye tea or coffee."

"Well, I'll maybe take coke or that, if it's ok."

"Yeah, I'll just nip next door." To the pub across the road from the library, and. . . She came in with a drink for herself and a coke for me, and we sat there and drank it. And she said "If the boss of the library service comes walking in just now, I'll get sacked. But he's no' likely to do that, so just relax."

Chris: . . . And this theme about secret library drinking continues in Helen Howell's clip.

Helen: Linda said tae me it wis changed days since she first started in the library. Um, she had basically just left school and she says the librarian that she worked with, she said "I was shocked" she says "Tae find she used tae keep her wee glass ae whiskey and her cigarette and her ashtray under the counter". And as soon as the customers left, she would have a, a swish and a draw and then put them back down again for the next customer coming in.

Chris: Yet again, we continue this theme with Jayne Russell's memory.

Jayne: And I remember, they used to go out and drink at lunchtime. And the Christmas parties were, they'd come back and get drunk. And I was in the Rent Rebate section, and. . . they were just. . . smellin' o'drink. it was quite incredible. And there was always affairs going on and all that sort of stuff in the offices, and it was always an open secret and. . . It's just totally different now [laugh] you wouldn't get off with half what they got off with in the 70's, that's for sure.

Chris: Thankfully, we have sobered up and we return to Ann for a really sweet library memory about a boy on a mission.

Ann: Again, in Lochgelly Library, a lot of years ago, the staff decided we would do, over the summer holidays, like a. . . A challenge for children. And we had a book worm, and each time they completed a challenge, they got their name put on one of the segments on the worm. And the idea was at the end, to see who had the most segments or the most points, eventually, when we went to a points system. And there was a wee boy, and his name was Jamie. He was about five or six at the time, and he was in the library every day on his own. And he used to come in and get his books and ask what we were doing, and is there anything he could do to help us? And we said "We're doing this challenge, would you like to do it? Right, the first thing you have to do is, you've to pick a letter out o' here." So we had the alphabet in letters, and he picked out a G.

"What've I tae do?"

"You've tae go away and ye've tae come back wi' three things beginning wi' the letter G."

So he went away and he came back and he had a giraffe ornament he'd taken out his mum's house. He had something that was made outtae glass. And then he put his hand in his pocket. He says; "I couldn't think ae anything else, so I've brought ye that." And he produced grass that he'd picked out his garden. And then his second challenge was, he was tae take a piece ae paper and he was to go away, and he had to draw a member of staff. And he came back, and I wish I had kept the drawing. It was a, a circle, wi' the wee stick arms and legs. Two eyes, the nose, a huge big smile, and then further down there was a dot. And I said, "Jamie, that's lovely, who's that?

He says "It's you, Ann."

I says "Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah."

I says "What's the dot?"

"That's yer belly button."

He got, he actually won that year. He tried his heart out and he actually got the most segments on the worm, so he was our Star that year. And I'd love to know what's happened tae Jamie.

Chris: Playing us out of Lochgelly and Fife is, you could argue, Mister Lochgelly, Bill Paul. Bill has a double life of being both heavily involved in Lochgelly Bowling Club, but also, as we will hear, he treads the boards at Lochgelly and District Amateur Musical Association. Bill says he's often a gangster... I'd better behave.

Bill: I'm involved in Lochgelly Musical. Which is on, the show's on at the centre the night. It's been, it's on all week. Chess, we're doing that show in, in the centre. And I've been in that company for 66 years. And I was president of that for 23 years. So I'm still involved, and my wife's still involved, you know? And my granddaughters are involved. The musical's been going since 1935 and we've been doing the shows in the Lochgelly Centre since it opened in 1976.

My own memories are... Wi' ma voice and ma looks, ah wis never able tae play a leading part. Ah wis always the gangster, the thug. In "My Fair Lady", I was the bucket man. I think in two shows, I've been killed off. In three, I've been put in prison. But uh, I thoroughly enjoyed it, even though a' that happened to me, you know? [laugh] In, uh, "Annie, get your gun" I played Chief Sitting Bull. And in "The Desert Song" I played the... The Pharaoh. In "Carousel" once again, I was uh, the gangster, you know, the thug, that nobody liked, you know? "Guys and Dolls" again... I was a gangster there, called Harry the Horse. And the reason I was Harry the Horse was, I used tae laugh as if I was neighin', you know, like a horse. [laugh] In uh, "Showboat", way back in uh, we did this in the 60's. And uh, I was... Blackened, at that time. You were able to do that at that time, you know? I was blackened because I was playing Joe. "Old Man River" was the song I sung, you know? And that was in "Showboat."

We also did a couple of Black and White Minstrel Shows. Where all the men had black faces, which they would never. . . Obviously, never happen now. But that happened, and we did shows maybe about 1970 and '75, Minstrel Shows. As well as doing the, the other shows as well, you know? The history of Lochgelly, I mean, between the Bowling Club and Lochgelly Musical, I believe. . . Because of ma age, ye've actually got the person who knows more than most people will, you know? Cos I'm 84. And uh, I've been in this club 41 years. And I've been in the Musical 66 years, come September. So Lochgelly's a [laugh] a famous place for me, you know?

Chris: Thank you once again for listening to the Community Campfires Podcast, which has come to you today from Lochgelly in Fife. Community Campfires is a Scottish Book Trust project, in partnership with North Ayrshire Libraries, Inverclyde Libraries, ONFife and Western Isles Libraries, and is supported by the Year of Scotland's Stories.

The music was by Zakhar Valaha, and I hope you've enjoyed these three podcasts from me, Chris Dooks.

Please also check out our podcast from the Western Isles Team, which we will link to online.

Thanks ever so much for joining us, and goodbye.

[Outro music]

[Intro Music]

Chris Dooks: Hi, and welcome to Community Campfires 2022 Episode 2, from the Scottish Book Trust. I'm Chris dooks, one of the podcast producers from the project and we are also under the umbrella of The Year of Scotland's Stories. We go on tour, and we ask community groups if they have a story to tell. So, so far we've collected voices from North Ayrshire, Inverclyde and fife as well as the Western Isles. What tends to happen is, we arrive on a Monday and by friday, we have a meet-up where the recordings are played back with films and poetry, uh, audience discussion. And not only that, there's this beautifully crafted, bow-topped Story Wagon from Luke winter, and that provides a great focal point for the residencies.

In this second podcast, we partnered with Inverclyde Libraries. And I spent the week based at Port Glasgow Library and Clune Park Resource Centre, speaking to art & craft classes and other service users.

Got a great show for you today, and there's a special shaggy dog story at the close, that you'll want to stick around for. But we start with Joanne Leech, who is casting her mind back to the first day at high school.

Joanne: My earliest memory of living in the moment was the atmosphere I felt at my first day in the high school. I felt a sense of adventure. I think I was the first person there, I don't recall seeing anybody else there. The grass had just been cut and the smell was delicious. And the sun was shining, it was an absolute beautiful day. The birds were singing, I felt everything all round me and this new sense of adventure.

And I was so proud and chuffed that I had a new leather satchel and these high... High socks. White socks and they were called Meridian Striders. And the reason I remember the name of them is because they were bought, or got, at a day out in Glasgow with my mother, and we went to the Kensitas Coupon Shop. So my mother had smoked all these cigarettes to get me this leather satchel, and these lovely, white, buchely socks. However, it quickly became apparent that you don't use satchels in this school. And it changed to a carrier bag, to carry all your stuff in. That's what everybody else was using, and I didn't want ae... Stick out. But I loved that bag, and my mother ended up using it for knitting needles.

Chris: Next, we hear from Ian McTaggart. He talks about a man who fell to pieces after a heartbreak.

Ian: There was a fella in Port Glasgow here. My mother had told me he... He was a kind of bogeyman, if you know what the expression is, to children. And he had a big bushy beard and his hair was all unkempt and he was, eh... He was a sorta down-and-out, y'know? He lived rough, in other words, which was partially unheard of, in that time. In this area, anyway. And my mother had told me years later, that it was a... He had fallen for a girl and he was intending to marry her and she jilted him. And this sorta, turned his mind. That was the story, anyway. The police used to take him in, periodically. Into the police station here in Port Glasgow. And they gave him a bath, and shaved him [laugh], 'cause he's the big, bushy beard. And cleaned him up, uh, and then put him back out onto the street again, you know? You ran away, you know? You were frightened of him. he never harmed anybody, but just, his appearance, you know, his appearance kinda frightens you.

Chris: Next, Betty Stewart talks about a kind of tough love, where a public space needs to be alchohol-free. Even if it means a row.

Betty: Wasn't drugs then. But there was still alchohol involved. And eh, I must admit, whenever I suspected it, or thought they had bottles... Well, they called me for everything when I took them off them. Uh, but I would say "Right, come back in a fortnight." Everything was forgotten then... Unless off course, they done it again, well then it was the same scenario. This was a minority. Uh, and I suppose maybe we had some right, uh... I wouldn't say bad, uh... Just didn't know what they wanted in life. Uh, but really, on the whole, and I still meet some of them yet, today. And they'll never walk by you. Eh, and I was up there for 30 year.

Chris: Varri McReynolds speaks about a kind boss and fish suppers.

Varri: I worked in oor uh, local chippie. It was called Andy's. It was a great job, and Andy was such a lovely man, and never shouted or ordered staff about. At the end of the night, he cooked us whatever we wanted from the menu. My dad used to go in, after a night in the local social club, and because Andy was a family friend, he would give him a fish supper with four fish in it. When he came home, I used to have a piece wi' chips. Always on plain bread wi' real butter.

Chris: One of the great things about recording people's stories is what it causes you to look up. I've just been looking into Jacquard Looms, a sort of early automated punch-card system, that automates textile weaving. But in Ronnie Gibbons' recollection, it seems that they were not without risk.

Ronnie: He was up oiling the looms, they were called Jacquard Looms. And he was up oiling the, the chain, and so forth. And while the loom was going, you're not supposed to do that. But he was oiling away and uh, his finger got caught in it, and took his finger off. So, we a' heard a sorta yelp and that, you know and uh... he came back down and said "I've lost a finger, you think you can find it?" [laugh] So, we're under a' the looms, trying to find his finger. But he couldnae put it back, it was a' fusty and... the damage was done then.

Chris: Cathy Blakely speaks about the rag and bone man, and a story of balloons.

Cathy: The Rag n' Bone man used to call. So, one day I grabbed a jacket off the floor and I ran with it. He gied me two balloons for the jacket. I was over the moon wi' these ballons. Skipping back to ma nana's. And I went in; "Where'd you get the balloons?" I said "The Rag n' Bone man." "How, what did you gie him?" I says "Jacket, was lyin' on the flair." "That was your Uncle Colley's jacket." Uh, oops... I said, "Well, he should have put it away." and she said "...And his money was in it." "No money in it when I shook it." [laughs] She said "No, his pay packet!" I got dragged by the ponytail, to catch the Rag n' Bone man, to get the jacket back. He gave the jacket back and then he took my balloons off me. I was more worried about the ballons, until I'd gotten home and I got a, a sore backside for touching somebody else's clothes [laugh].

Chris: Next up, a shipbuilding warning. Jim Burns talks about being careful where you stand when there's a welder about.

Jim: The welder's working, kinda up the deck , like that. And there's a couple'a men, standing there, bletherin' and no' doing anything. He would get his welding rod and just go [Sparking noise] to your heels. and then you try to walk, and you, you're welded to the deck [laugh]. You know? It was only, a small tack, but it would break when you done it but, that what it's, things like that. Um, you had all your nicknames, you had Half-a-kiss, who, the man that had one lip, so he was called Half-a-kiss.

Chris: Next, 'Anne' remembers, you shouldn't drop the ball. Anne: When I was a kid, I played outside, in the street. My favourite games were playing Tig. Other favourite game was playing with a ball and throwing it against the wall. It was called "plainy-clappy-rolly-to-backy." If you dropped the ball, it was the next kids turn.

Chris: This next tale is like a Christmas classic. Jim Carroll is furious he's not being paid his thousand-pound rebate. He's going to take matters into his own hands.

Jim: I got my, you get a slip on Tuesday, to tell you what your wages would be, and you picked them up on the Thursday. So I got my slip. £40 and £1,000 of a rebate. So I go, I says "That's... It's too thin.", you know what I mean? And, so I opened it, £40... So I was that annoyed, just off a night shift and I got in the car, and I drove up to East Kilbride. East Kilbride was the, the main tax office for Scotland at that time. And I'm sitting in East Kilbride, waiting about an hour and this guy finally takes me in and I explained it to him. So he checks, and he says "We've told" -Lithgows was the shipyard - "to pay the rebate. They've just no' done it. You'll need to go back doon."

So I'm driving down tae Lithgows. And they were finishing at dinner time for the, the christmas. And I'm, I'm coming fae East Kilbride and it would be about 11 o'clock by the time I get intae, intae Lithgows and I'm knocking his wee windows, I said "Open and give me a pay!" and everybody's ignoring me and I said "Oh..."

So finally, somebody came up, and I said "I was told to come back, I'm due a rebate." So he says ; "Oh, you'll need tae get a Director to sign your.... the cheque, because it's too much." y'know? Then they took me into the boardroom in Lithgows office, and I sat down and the guy that was there, a Director called White, he came out and signed it. A cheque for £1,000, so... That was, that was a good Christmas that year. [Laugh]

Chris: Husband and wife Mohammed Ashwertay and Ahed Mohammed speak about leaving Syria and arriving in Port Glasgow. Mohammed Ashwertay: Everywhere in Syria, Aleppo and Damascus and Homs and everywhere, everywhere. Some people die everywhere and... I scared. I scared. I, I can't live after that, after that, my wife, my wife and children uh, were left Syria before me, three months. Next three months, I uh, I went to Lebanon.

Ahed Mohammed: The first time when we arrive to Port Glasgow, 16 of March 2017. What was the feeling? Because why, everything is new. The looks of the houses. Roads, uh cars, everything was very different. The first thing was... Very beautiful... Uh, it was my home.

Chris: Daniela Galdi is a Swiss National who was involved in many compassionate initiatives in the region, such as end-of-life care. She's been in Port Glasgow for a decade, after helping her local partner with carer responsibilities. And she speaks here, about how they met. Daniela: so we travelled for three weeks and I saw this man what was just kind with everyone. We became very good friends. We didn't have any story, but he was just a nice guy to travel with. Because most people were not, to be truthful. Most people were mad. Um, he invited me to come and see the Dalai Lama in 2004, in Glasgow[laugh]. And I came and saw Scotland. And that was a very interesting... Very interesting story because I, I had the pleasure to sit in the fourth line from the Dalai Lama because the headphones didn't work. Translation wasn't working, so we needed to go very close. But I slept the whole time. Dalai Lama came in, and I did go to sleep til he was finished. When he stood up, my friends were waking me up and telling me that, time to go home.

Chris: And lastly, I've given him a bit more airtime than the others. This is Daniela's partner, 'Tam' who is also well known in the community for compassionate projects. But he's also a great storyteller, so let's hear him play us out, this is brilliant.

'Tam': All best stories begin with "Once't upon a time".
Once't upon a time, a long time ago, I was tasked with taking, um, a lady to a submarine. And she was a Duchess, or whatever...? Yes, a Duchess. And, she came on my ship and I was taking her out to HMS Argyll. She was going for a visit. And, I'm a little bit mischevious and, she was on the bridge and I was letting her drive the ship. And I said to her; "You know that old castle you used to have?" And she went; "Yes?" And I said "You know the one that burned down?" "Yes." I says; "Do you know how it burned down?" And she says; "No. It's a mystery that's never been solved." And I says; "I can solve the mystery right here for you, if you want." And she went; "Oh, really, can you?" "Yes. I think, I think you're owed millions and millions of pounds for your beautiful little hut that got burned down." "It's a castle." "Yes, a hut, castle, yes, yes." And she says; "I will tell you, or possibly, I'll even just... Possibly I'll just go and you can wait for my book to come out." And she went "Oh, are you not going to tell me?" I said; "No, I'm a bit of a tease, I won't tell you."

But here today, I'm going to tell you the story. Um, this castle had stood for hundreds of years and then, the mystery is that one winter's night, It burned down. And it didn't burn down from the bottom up. It burned down from the top down. The source of ignition, the firemen says was, it was in the attic. The castle burned from the top down. But there's only one problem; it's a very old castle, it has no electrical supply to the top floors. So this left them with, how, without a source of ignition, does a castle burn down? Would you like to know how the castle burned down? There was a certain little boat, tied up at a certain little pier about 300 meters away from the castle. And they were having problems cooking their dinner. It was an old, old boat, maybe from the 1950's. It had a coal fire in the bottom and a very tall chimney that hasn't been swept for like, 30 years. And the cook couldn't get the fire to light because the whole funnel was full of carbon. Thick, thick carbon. So the engineer in charge of it remembered what they used to do on the old steam ships. He would Blow the Funnel. So he decided "I'm going to blow this funnel." So first, he put a rag in the bottom of the fire, soaked in diesel. And it didn't work too well and they tried again. It wasn't drawing air up. So... the crew were hungry for their dinner; "Come on, do something." He says "A-ha!" So maybe this pipe full of carbon, say 15 feet, maybe a foot in diameter... He goes and gets a pair of ladders and he goes to the top of the, the funnel, the pipe, the chimney... And he pours a little cup of diesel in. And he says; "What'll happen is, this diesel will impregnate the carbon. And then when the fire hits it, it will blow the funnel. It'll blow all the carbon out and then we'll be able to cook our dinner." But it didn't really work. So, he was of the opinion, more is better. So he tried another cup, and another cup of diesel, and another cup of diesel, pouring it into this long, 15-foot pipe full of carbon that was totally blocked. And eventually, he put a bucket of diesel down the top of it. So there, there's the boys down below, trying to light the fire. Trying to do this, and then suddenly it started to catch. And some smoke was going up the top of the chimney and he says; "It's a job well done". And then a little bit more heat got into it. And a little bit more heat got into it, and it made more and more space. So eventually, this chimney started to rumble and shake and make all sorts of noises. And then, lo and behold, a massive, big blossom of red-hot, diesel-impregnated carbon took off like a Saturn-5 rocket, into the night sky and floated away... And that was a job well done. When they got up at six o'clock in the morning to set sail, they thought "Oh, Inverarie is in fog. You can't see the village, everything's covered in fog." And of course, it wasn't fog. It was smoke from Inverarie Castle. They had successfully cleaned the funnel, to cook their breakfast. And from a man that was on the ship, that told me this story years before, they wen't "Oh, my god!" and the fire engines were up there. And they thought to themselves; "Oh, my goodness!" So, being good sailors, they started the engine, let go fore and aft and sailed into the smoke, never to be heard of again.

Chris: Thank you once again, for listening to the Community Campfires Podcast, which has come to you today from Port Glasgow. Community Campfires is a Scottish Book Trust project, in partnership with North Ayrshire Libraries, Inverclyde Libraries, ONFife & Western Isles Libraries, and is supported by the Year of Scotland's Stories. The music was by Zakhar Valaha.

Our next Podcast sees our story circus arrive at Lochgelly in Fife. Please come and join us.

[Outro Music]

[Intro Music]

Chris Dooks: Hi, I'm Chris Dooks and I'm one of the podcast producers for Community Campfires 2022, from the Scottish Book Trust.

2022 is the year of Scotland's Stories. We've been setting up camp in North Ayrshire, Inverclyde and Fife, as well as the Western Isles.

In these places, we've been asking communities if they have a story to tell. We spend a few days interviewing people and then, on the final day, the community meets to hear, not just the recordings, but live readings, films, photography and sounds from our Digital Storyteller. There's poetry and audience discussion, we also have Luke Winter's beautiful Story Wagon as a warm meeting point for local tales.

In this first podcast, we partnered with North Ayrshire Libraries. I spent the week at Kilbirnie Library in Garnock Valley and around Irvine, where we start with young writer Patrick Kennedy, who's just started to enter Short Story competitions.

Patrick: My name's Patrick Kennedy and I'm from Barrhead.

So, there's this underground government facility and they've created like, almost, a biotoxin, that. . . As a gas, that they're going to release into the city environment. And they've covered it up, like, on the broadcasting messages, they've covered it up as it being a cure for diseases. But what it actually does is, it's a parasite and it takes over your mind and gives you the urge to kill. So, it's almost like a zombie apocalypse starting. So, many. . . The city falls into chaos, people are dying, like. . . People are gathering up weapons. And there's this group of six people who are out to stop, just, everything that's going on.

Usually, I write like, horror mystery stories. In primary school, uh, I have this teacher, Miss Sonnino. She's definitely pushed me a lot and helped me to improve my writing. So when I started writing kind of, horror stories, she liked them and she,she was helping me, like giving me different words to use. And then. . . So what she did was, she had told me about a Young Writer's competition for BBC Radio Two. And I decided to write this story to enter with.

Chris: I spent a good while with our next voice, Bill Henry, back at Kilbirnie Library. He had some great stories about his cats and the local area, but he talks here about his father-in-law's dramatic life, before moving on to a short vignette about his sister

Bill: My, my father-in-law, uh, ended up in a nursing home. but prior to that, he had been a highly intelligent man. Clever, married, happy man. We went down on holiday to the Borders and his wife, my mother-in-law, who was a diabetic, fell and broke her hip. 8 months later, she was gone. Because if you're a diabetic and something like that happens to your legs. . . Does you. So, when she passed away, he took to the bottle. and I mean, Big Time. And, one of the times we got a call from the local hospital:

"Your father-in-law was found lying in his garden, unconscious."

So, we got him back out, he was still drinking. I had to tell the local shop owner "Stop selling Jimmy whiskey. . . You're killing him." Prior to that, during the war, he had been a navigator on Halifax bombers. And in '43, they got shot down South of Paris.

He was on the run for three weeks, and eventually a French farmer gave him away to the Germans. Now, the German officer kept questioning him; "Name, Rank, Serial number? Name, Rank, Serial number? If you don't tell me what's in this report here, which I know. . ." He said "I'll have to hand you over to the Gestapo. . . And you won't like, won't like them!"

Left them fags and matches, said; "I'm going out for a cup of coffee. I'll be five minutes. Look at it." And Jimmy opened up the folder. They had everything on him, including his grandparent's names. So he said to the guys "Right, you've got me." He says "Right, fine." And he was interned in a camp in Poland for 18 months. And uh, they used to get Red Cross parcels. And the Germans would bayonet the tins, so they couldn't keep them to try and escape. And eventually, one day, they could hear like, bombs and planes. The German guards came in and went; "That way is the Russians, That way is the Americans. I think you should come with us, cause that's where we're going. We're gonna go and surrender." [laughing] And that was it. But when he was in the nursing home, they got a new charge nurse. A lovely girl, who was German. And he would not give her the time of day. [Laugh] She was German, and that was it! Never a word, he spoke to her, until the day he passed away. It's funny...

My sister, and my brother-in-law, they're both passed away. uh, it was Nineteen-Ninety. . . Four, it must have been. . . Yeah. They were in Paisley, my sister lived in Glasgow, she used to have a big house there. And uh, they went into Paisley to get him a golf jumper, because he was a great golfer. They got back to the house. My brother-in-law was taking his jacket off, my sister took her coat off, and she went; "Harry. . . Take my hand."

He says "What's up, love?"

She says "I'm dying!" and died in his arms.

Chris: Omid Asak, who is currently living in Irvine, is an Afghan journalist who was forced to move his family to the UK when he was being targeted by, as he says, "unknown people", over the content of his writing. In the last two years, many Afghan journalists and publishers have had similar freedom of speech conflicts and have had to flee to pursue resettlement schemes. Here, he talks about how he survived a suicide bomb blast in Kabul.

Omid: You know about the, one year ago, about the situation of Afghanistan. It was uh, clear for all, there was fight between the Taliban in Government and also. . . The war was different. no' just in one field, between the media insurgent and also between the Government insurgent, and also a lot of journalists that, uh "Unkown People" attacked, on them and killed them. Uh, they are killed by "unknown people". There was um, a suicide attack bomber. I stand with another drivers. Just, bomb blasting. I watched the people, they are next to me in two meters, there was a poor driver person, I knew him. I watch him... He die. . . Next to me. When I stand, I watch my, my, my right leg, it was broken. This bone broken, and also my head was shrapnel, definite shrapnel. Blood, all of the blood. You know, we had a good chance. they had four. . . I don't know what you say, four bomb in his body. One in first, in this side, this side, and back. Just the first bomb blasted and there's three one left. Yeah, yeah, it was our chance, yeah.

Chris: If those bombs had gone off, then. . .

Omid: No, all finish, all finish.

Chris: Oh, God.

Omid: It was very danger. You know about suicide attack. I had a friend, he message me; "Please care. Please keep yourself, it is really danger for you." I ask him why, what I did? Why they kill me?

He told me "You don't know about your writing. What you write in your Facebook and newspaper. . . Very famous newspaper publish my writing, my article. Like me, a lot of young generation, young people, tried to change the situation of the people. Tried to, to. . . To tell their people, civilian people, it is not the Holy War, yeah. This is a project. We know about this, we studied about the Afghanistan War. It was project.

When I uh, Studied my uh, past history, it. . . It was danger for us, yeah. Should we show our reaction, yeah? Should we say to our people about the reality of the war? It was danger for us.

Chris: Next, we hear from one of our lovely Storytellers, Betty Skelton. Who I interviewed on a gorgeous day at Eglinton Country Park, near Irvine. This is a very moving account of why she tells stories.

Betty: ...And the first day we went in, um, I mean there were people putting themself up against the wall and cowering, because this eight-year-old child, well nine, by that time – was back in the school. But anyway, we went into the classroom; the kids. . . Kids are great, they, they accept everybody. uh, and I says "So, are ye ready for a story?" and they said "Ye-e-es!". I says "Well, here's your storyteller." And he sat down in the storytelling chair, and he goes "So, would you like a story?" and they went. . . and they looked a bit confused, but said "Yes?"

"No, would you, would you really like a story?"

"Yes!"

"Would you really, Really like a story?!" and they're going "YES!"

So he told, um, the story of the Three Billy Goats Gruff, with all the actions and all the movements and everything in it. And at the end of it, there was Total. Silence.

And he looked at me. And I looked at him. And we'd rehearsed every possible um, reaction. But hadnae considered they would be so. . . Awed by the story that they wouldn't do anything. And it went on just too long for ma boy. But they did. . . Lots of applause. They were cheering, they were clapping, they were absolutely blown away by it. Um, but my. . . Another teacher was with me and she took him away, because he couldn't cope; he could've coped with them saying it was wrong, it was terrible, or anything else, we couldnae cope with this. . .Adoration, adulation. Um, when I went up, back up to the base. He had swiped everything off every surface he had. Books, paints, everything. They were in a big heap. And I walked into the classroom, and he looked at me, came running, wrapped his arms round about me, and the two of us melted in a puddle of tears. Um, so that's why I tell stories.

I had an. . . I'd always been aware of the power of stories. But that was quite something again. Um, and when I retired, I joined the storytelling directory, and I've been telling stories for the last 12 years.

Chris: The Men's Shed Project is a countrywide cluster of community spaces for men to connect, converse and create. Kilbirnie has a thriving Men's Shed at the back of the Library. It's more like a hub than a shed. Here, Colin, one of the users of the service, talks candidly as to why he thinks they are a lifesaver.

Colin: It started when I had three close deaths in the family. And uh, as you do, you just work on. And you work longer and longer hours. And what had happened was, my auntie had died, and my mother, who I was really close to, died. And then my cousin, who was my auntie's boy, he died. But my brother and myself found him in his flat, ten days after he'd died. And I think that was just the tipping point. Kind of nurse took me in there, to see how I was, cause I'm a joiner and the Man Shed does a lot of building stuff and things like that. Joinery stuff and um, I goes in and oh, as soon as I seen a' the joinery stuff, machines, I was like that; "Oh, aye." But I still widnae talk tae anybody, I went intae the kitchen, which was the social hub of the place and uh, I just sat in the corner [laugh].

So, we're back at Man Shed and uh, I go back in efter the. . . Efter the Pandemic, and. . . [sniff] shit. [laugh] Didnae realise, I was gonnae dae this.

Uh. . . So I get back to the Man Shed and. . . We just, they made things, just painting, whatever, anything at a', as long as you were doing something. And uh, I get, start to speak to people, like, it was wee Fred that was there at the time, noo it's somebody else that's took over. There was Afghan, a big guy ca'd Afghan. Stuart, uh. . . just people, talking to you. [deep breath] Uh, so if. . . If it wisnae for The Men's Shed, I don't think I'd actually be here. Cos you just clam up and you don't speak to anybody. And noo we're back open again, at Man's Shed and uh, Sun's oot the day, which is really good. And I'm just happy to be here [sniff] Really happy. [Sniff] Although it might no' sound like it [chuckle].

Chris: Marymass is a festival held in Irvine every year. the name refers to Mary, Queen of Scots and it is celebrated for around a week, in Mid-August. It's a huge event and we hear from Laura Kerr, who describes that despite the festival having many partners and volunteers, not to mention thousands of attendees, there's still room for it to be a family affair.

Laura: So, one person who is know as Mister Marymass actually is Danny Kerr. So Danny has been involved with the festival since he was a young boy; he's now in his Sixties. And we always joke and laugh that he has played every role except a majorette. So he has done absolutely everything in the festival, except dance.

He has dedicated... [deep breath] He's dedicated many, many years to the festival. I have never known him to take a holiday between April and August, ever. Because he's so busy on the, the run-up to the festival. He coordinates the creation of the community floats, so there is a, a group of really dedicated older gentlemen who work throughout the year dismantling the floats from the previous year and you know, building a, a strong base for the communuity groups to come in and decorate the, the floats. He has, he's been known as Mister Marymass for many years, um, as it completely absorbs him and he, he puts so much into the festival, yet. . . A lot of people aren't aware, um, of how much work he does put in. And I think my involvement in the festival um. . . Has, I'm in a really fortunate position, as I've been involved in the festival since I was very, very young. I've been in the parade since I was four or five years of age. I've always been involved in thhe background, you know? Of, of helping where I could, um, and you know, putting horses and carts in the parade and decorating, um, as well as being an extra pair of hands on the moor, on Marymass Saturday. Um, from , from quite a young age, doing what I could to help. But Danny's actually my dad, so it's a real. . . [catching breath] It's a real family thing for us. So, our whole family, every year since I can possibly remember, have been involved in the festival. Um, my mum has never formally been in any group or organisation, but she's very much a driving force in the background, so she does all the running about. She does the collection of things. Things like the rosettes, she drives to Girvan to collect every year. Um, she's, she's very dedicated but again, there's so many volunteers behind the scenes that allow that to happen.

Chris: I love this next story from Kilbirnie Gallery owner, Adam McLean. who used to have his gallery shared by the Barbers. And he's now next door and he has a unique, enormous Mona Lisa on the gable end of his space, which is also his office. He describes how this unique art installation came about.

Adam: After a couple of years, I bought a gallery. A sp- a shop, to use as a gallery. and um, things went very well. We got a few interesting exhibitions and then, one day, a young guy. . . Well he's not that young, actually, he was about 40, came into the gallery and said. . . He took out his phone and said "I've. . . I'm an artist. I've done a painting."

And of course, you know, your heart sinks sometimes when this happens, cause people will get out their phones and they show this really poor quality paintings and you have to kind of. . . Just. . . Be nice to them. But, he took this pai- he took the phone out. the paintings were incredible! And even on this small thing, it was, it was uh, the screen of the phone, I was quite impressed by it. So I said "Oh. . . Tom, I'd love to come and, and see that sometime."

He says; "Oh, no problem, I'll bring it down."

I said; "Oh, don't go to any bother.". . .

Says "I'm only 200 yards up the road."

So, he brought this [laughing] big canvas down and I was ast- Blown away by it. Shocked by it, actually. Because Tom was. . . You know, he wasn't a trained artist but this was incredibly detailed, painstaking work. Taken him two years to paint. . . Incredible. So. . . I knew about that. I offered him an exhibition, but he didn't have any other paintings at the time. So what happened was, a couple of years later, 2019, I was thinking about um, putting some kind of mural up on the wall, on the gable end of our property. And um, I thought about, what could we use, What could we do? Suddenly, it just came to me, Tom's painting's perfect. Local person, with a universal theme of the Mona Lisa. What he'd done was, he'd taken the uh, Mona Lisa by Leonardo DaVinci... Best known painting in the world, obviously. And he'd um, copied the face and the body, roughly. But then he'd just went, a riot of exploration of different forms and things. And he'd added all this decorative material around, around the central figure. And it's just, just amazing.

Chris: Willie Craig is an ex-steelworker, and he ends our selection today with this childhood memory.

Willie: I was born in Beith. And uh, when I was a toddler, even before I started school, um, I remember when you were playing on the pavement outside, there was some evenings the sky would all light up. It was absolutely, whole sky lit up. Just like a flash, come up, and it was all lit up and then the next... Well, it wisnae like a flash because it was. . . It stayed for quite a wee while, and the clouds, everything went all orange and. . . Then, quite often along with it, there was an explosion. There was a bang. And that's when I got told by my parents "That was, it's the steelwork, this is coming from". They were tipping slag. Uh, slagged into the loch. Kilbirnie Loch. So it turns out the flash was that, all along. The sky light, all the sky lighting up, was that. But then the explosion, because sound travels, not as speedy as uh, as light. Then, you got the bang later, and so that. But that used to be a regular occurence. The whole valley would light up, red and orange, ken? And it was spectacular. Really was, just for. . . And it was, it was quite silent too, and then flared up, and then there was this explosion. And the explosion was uh, if there was any metal, liquid metal in the slag, and it got trapped under the water, the loch. That's what causes the, the explosion. Ken I, I always remember that as. . . Never thinking that one day I would be in charge of all that.

Chris: Thank you so much for listening to the Community Campfires Podcast, which has come to you today from North Ayrshire. Community Campfires is a Scottish Book Trust project, in partnership with North Ayrshire Libraries, Inverclyde Libraries, ON Fife and Western Isles Libraries, and is supported by the Year of Scotland's Stories.

The Music was by Zakhar Valaha.

In our next podcast, we'll be driving a few miles North to Port Glasgow & Greenock, and we'll see you there.

[Outro music]

Narrator: Introducing Your Stories: Scotland's Stories Podcast.

A collection of True-Life tales from the people of Scotland.

From a Mobile Library driver in Uist, to a Mona Lisa mural in North Ayrshire.

You'll hear from people all over Scotland and all walks of life.

You'll hear tales to treasure, stories of community legends and accounts of people making it home.

Female voice 1: "The Grass had just been cut and the smell was delicious."

Male Voice 1: "We said to our people, the reality of the war. It was danger for us."

Male Voice 2: "We just thought it was slightly inappropriate to actually cook inside the church."

[Gaelic Song] 0:36–0:41

Narrator: We collected the stories in Inverclyde, Fife, North Ayrshire and The Western Isles, during Scottish Book Trust's Community Campfires residencies, as part of Scotland's Year of Stories 2022.

[Gaelic song] 0:54–0:59

-End