MEMORIES OF MACHARIOCH
1916 - 1920
Gavin Ralston
Old men, they say, forget: but remembering is one of the pleasures of old age
Dress
We schoolboys wore short trousers with woollen jerseys. Our stockings were home-knitted and boots were of light leather.
Farm-workers in Kintyre almost all wore a carseckie, which was a heavy cotton blouse buttoned at the neck, the waist and the sleeves. It came in one colour - Royal blue with narrow white stripes. They wore ‘tacketty boots’ - heavy leather boots with the soles encrusted with metal studs or tackets. In addition, there were steel heel- and toe-plates. When working on wet ground, men wore booyangs, narrow leather strips or more often lengths of binder twine tied below the knee to support the trousers.
My parents, traveling by gig to town or church, had to compromise between fashion and the weather. My father wore a long loose waterproof coat called an ulster and on his head a bowler-hat. My mother, to keep her hat from blowing off, wore a ‘motor veil’, which was a light scarf placed over the hat and tied under the chin. To keep her hands warm, she buried them in a fur muff.
Visitors
Casual ‘drop in’ visitors were not frequent - people did not have time to spare. Consequently, those who came to the farm were there on business. Here are some of the visitors I remember well.
Dr James Niven came from the village by pony and trap. In those days the stethoscope was a single metal tube and when the doctor listened to my chest I found it was quite painful. I never forgot this and when I came to have a stethoscope (binaural) of my own, I made sure that the chest-piece was warm before applying it to the patient’s skin.
R. N. Lewis, Veterinary Surgeon (the ‘Veet’). His visits were memorable for two reasons. His was the first car I had seen at close quarters and, secondly, during the school holidays he brought with him his son, George, a boy of my own age. This was the beginning of a lifelong friendship which ended only with George’s death in 1978.
Alex Templeton, cheese merchant from Kilmarnock, who came to buy cheese after tasting a small core for flavour and maturity. For some reason, I thought he was a very old man, but when I met him in Kilmarnock 30 years later he was very spry and alert.
Mr Telfer, a traveling salesman from Strathhaven. He had two large suitcases full of samples of men’s and women’s underwear, taking orders for future delivery.
John Moffat, the mason from the village, came to do building repairs. He was very tall and thin and had a white beard. He carried his tools wrapped in a white apron on the carrier of his bicycle.
The Saddler came once a year to repair harness. He had very thick lenses in his glasses and smoked Bogie Roll tobacco in a clay pipe. He slept in the harness room.
The Stone-Knapper. On the roadside near the farm there was a pile of rocks left for road repair. The knapper who broke them down to smaller pieces (‘jucks’ eggs’ or ‘banties’ eggs’) came to have his piece in the stable at mid-day. He used a double-headed hammer with a flexible shaft. To protect his eyes from flying chips he wore wire gauze goggles.
The Church Choirs of Campbeltown came to Macharioch for their annual picnic and dance. They came by wagonette, a four-wheeled horse-drawn vehicle, carrying 12 passengers on two bench seats placed fore and aft. The picnics and games (usually rounders) were held in the field next the shore. Meanwhile the barn was being prepared for the dance. My job was to scatter French chalk over the floor.
Ina, Dowager Duchess of Argyll
In Macharioch House, the Duchess and her staff lived a life which was almost completely separate from the rest of the ‘community’. There was a daily visit from a kitchen maid to collect milk, butter and eggs, and a not infrequent visit from the butler to ‘borrow a drop’ of whisky. Whether this was for himself or the Duchess, I never knew. As for the Duchess herself, she was a recluse. Having erected on the shore an impressive monument to the memory of her late husband, she retired to the house, cutting herself off completely from such social life as she and the Duke must have enjoyed before the Duke’s death. It was said that at every meal a place was laid at the table for the Duke.
I spent a good deal of time roaming round the gardens with Tommy Davidson, the gardener’s son, but I never once saw the Duchess taking a walk. The only time we saw her was when she ‘went for a drive’. The car, driven by Broadfoot the butler, was a big maroon-coloured open vehicle. The Duchess sat very erect in the back seat, accompanied by her companion, Lady Campbell. Between them sat her dog Foxy, a large white Samoyed. If we children were on the road when she passed, we stood respectfully aside; the boys saluted and the girls bowed. She never acknowledged those courtesies by the slightest nod or smile.
One day, when the Duchess was away from home, Tommy took me into the house through the green baize door. We explored the house, but the only room I remember was the drawing-room because it had a pianola. We played it and I thought it was magic and ghostly.
The gardens were immaculately kept by Mr Davidson. From the window of the drawing-room there ran a long stretch of lawn about 4 m wide. This was called The Green Walk and had to be mown several times during the summer. For this Mr Davidson used a horse-drawn mower. He borrowed from the farm our pony, Polly. So as not to damage the lawn, Polly was fitted with a set of leather boots.
When we were leaving Macharioch, the Duchess gave to my mother, by the hands of the butler, a small pot-plant - a Fatsia japonica - which is now over 10 feet in height and flourishing.
No 54 Autumn 2004
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