News
Tales out of School by Anne Cormack
12/03/2010 08:22:00
Moving hoose
We were driving back to Kirkwall after an Orkney Norway Friendship Association meeting in Stromness. In the back of the car were a Norwegian visitor and a Stromness wife whom we said we'd drop off home on the way. "Me hoose is second last on the right," she told us. There was a surprised squawk from our Norwegian friend. "She said hus." "Of course she did," we replied, "house is English not Orcadian."
How long have you lived in your present hoose? My good man and I are
currently in our seventh hoose since we married, a far cry from our
parents. My mother lived in the same flat from the day she came back
from her honeymoon until she died, while my mother-in-law was
sixty-three years in her marital home, only leaving it to go into a
care home when aged ninety.
The first house we bought was on the top floor of a late Victorian
tenement in Glasgow, ideal for a young married couple, perhaps, but not
so fine when the bairns arrived. Remember the big old fashioned prams
babies were wheeled around in thenadays? It needed both of us to lug
the pram up the three back-breaking flights of stairs to our flat. A
move to house number two was essential, Unfortunately around that time
a severe winter storm (severe for Glasgow that is!) had badly damaged
thousands of city roofs, stripping them of slates, with the result that
the market for top floor flats plummeted. Even although our roof was
undamaged, by the time we managed to sell the flat, our younger
offspring had already outgrown the pram. All was not lost, however.
Since our new home was but a few hundred yards away, a lot of the
flitting was a DIY one, using the big pram to transport books,
crockery, clothes, pots and pans etc. We must have looked like a city
version of the gaan aboot folk.
The new abode was a comfortable terrace house with a big back garden
and near to the local primary school, but after two and a half years
there, Orkney beckoned. Sanday Central Schoolhouse was very different
again.
The island councillor then, the late Mrs Christine Muir, a formidable
lady, had hinted when we were interviewed in Kirkwall that the house
needed a bit of attention, but she was sure we would like it.
Certainly, our first few weeks there were an experience. True to their
word, the council completely redecorated the house for us, even
providing us with company. The painters lodged in the house with us,
and as they finished one room, it was a case of musical chairs, or
musical rooms, as we all shifted around to let them into the next room
to be papered and painted. The house looked really bonny when the men
had finished, but there was no hiding it was an old house, and gey cold
with it. The big kitchen had a chilly larder leading off it, a
necessity when the house was built and handy even in 1971 when there
was still no 'hydro' on the island. We did have a fridge, but the
generator that provided power for the school houses didn't run at
night. Also off the kitchen was a very small 'maid's room', the ceiling
of which was right under the stairs . One winter Saturday, when our
youngeens had friends in to play, they had a competition to see who
could jump from the highest step down into the hall. As one less than
light footed lass landed with a thump, the ceiling in the maid's room
fell in.
I recently looked up the 1901 census to see if the then headmaster
really did have a maid, and was surprised to find that he had not one,
but two. I presume that they both had to sleep in that tiny room. The
1901 census also confirmed to me how, in the past, a lot of folk used
to stay in the same house for generations. For example, in 1901, there
were Sinclairs at Neigarth. Doreen, the primary 3/4 teacher in the
Sanday School, was married to John Sinclair - of Neigarth. There were
Muirs at Levisgarth in 1901, and one of the boys we taught was Neil
Muir of Levisgarth. Out of curiosity, I went back fifty years to the
1851 census and found Scotts at Stumpo, Yes, we had a Scott of Stumpo
as a pupil. I wonder if she was a direct descendant of the 1851 Scotts.
While we were living in the Schoolhouse, Billy the janitor and his wife
Freda bought Westbank, a traditional old croft house. With island help
they completely rebuilt it, transforming it into a modern house. A very
amateur 'helper' in this was my good man who worked with Billy and the
others when they put the 'couples' up. After a few years Billy and
Freda moved into Kirkwall, and as the schoolhouse rent was by then
double that of the council houses, we decided to buy Westbank. That was
us at house number four. The flitting was another DIY affair, with the
Scotts of Sparrowhall doing sterling work moving our belongings by
tractor and trailer.
After seven years at Westbank, we felt we needed a change
professionally, and we headed into Kirkwall. Before leaving Sanday, we
had the traditional, island auction sale in our front garden of
furniture and goods we weren't taking with us. I remember our ancient
fridge was sold for more than we had paid for it close on twenty years
previously. Such is inflation.
Three Papdale Close was the only house we've lived in where I've felt
from day one that I was in my own house and not, as usually happens for
the first few weeks, trespassing in someone else's. I once read
somewhere that the Watt family had some connection with the lands of
Papdale a couple of centuries ago. As it is possible I am descended
from a branch of that family (the evidence is circumstantial rather
than written, however), my fanciful side would like to think that's why
I immediately felt at home. Far fetched, I know.
Once we retired from publishing The Orkney View, and decided to live in
Pitlochry, we firstly rented a house locally while we 'sussed out' the
market. It was soon obvious that house prices were a good deal higher
than in Kirkwall, so finance decreed that we had to go for a smaller
house than our Orkney one. Our current abode, house number seven, is
described jokingly by our son-in-law as our 'bijou residence'. Small or
not, situated as it is at the back of the town, it has the most
stunning views from all windows (see left).
The kitchen window looks out on Ben Vrackie, which makes washing up almost a pleasure.
We have been lucky too with views in the past. From both our Sanday
houses we could see straight across Sanday Sound to Stronsay, while in
Kirkwall we had a lovely view of the Hoy hills.
Will house number seven be our last house? Best kens. I remember Iain
Baker whose Dad, Ron, was head teacher when we went to Sanday, advising
his Mum to move into a retirement flat a good while before she felt she
needed to. Iain, a doctor, told her he had seen too many of his
patients not make the move until they were no longer able to cope
either with their current residence or the trauma of a flitting. In the
past month they have started on the foundations of retirement flats
here in the centre of Pitlochry. Much as we love our 'bijou residence'
with its beautiful big garden, should we too think of following Iain's
advice?