Aberdeen, Inverurie, and a Delightful 'Find'

As y'all may know, Mum and Dad have been out in Aberdeenshire with us for this week. It's been so good having them here, and so good for them, too, to see where we are living, to realise it really isn't so far away after all, and to simply chill out with us for a few days.

Inverurie is a lovely wee town for browsing. (We actually spent today shopping in Aberdeen, and even my Mum had had enough after about four hours.)

My Mum 'having had enough' of shopping is practically unheard of. She is a kind of shop-or-browse-until-you-drop kinda gal. I am not. I simply don't get the pleasure in going around shops, whether to browse or to buy. If I need something, I would love to have someone find it for me and it arrive on my doorstep without my ever needing to walk through shop door. And as for browsing .... gimme strength, folks, do people actually do that for fun??

Anyway, back to Inverurie. A girl at Katie's work had recommended a wee cafe, called The Dormouse & Teacup. Four days ago, on our first trip into Inverurie, we asked for directions to this establishment, and within seconds of stepping in the door, we were smitten!

Our tea was served from this pot and into this cup and saucer. How could we not be smitten?!

On that first day, Mum had a pancake (even the strawberry jam is home made), followed by a Raspberry and Coconut sponge. Along with my cuppa, I had Lemon, Lime and Coconut sponge. And my Dad had a Victoria Sponge. 

All were home made and were absolutely delicious. Dad's cappuccino and Calum Stewart's Latte were also spot on. But even better than the yummy baking was the fabulous staff. They were so lovely and made what would have been a pleasant enough afternoon cuppa into something much more.

The following day, when we visited again for our afternoon cuppa-and-cake, we met not only Lucy, who runs the cutely named establishment, but also her husband. Seeing I had Calum Stewart's mobile in my hand, and I'd already spent at least three minutes getting a selfie of myself, Mum, and Dad, I asked Lucy and her husband to join me for another selfie.

(CS reckons I took about seven minutes attempting my first selfie, but we reckon he's prone to exaggeration.)

Here's Lucy and her hubby. If you're ever in Inverurie, drop in. The Dormouse & Teacup opened about a year ago, after they'd come up with the idea whilst on a date night, and spent almost a year planning and preparing for the actual opening. I do love hearing of business enterprises that have been thought up, been planned, and are now being successfully run by folks who love what they do.

Below is the first selfie I took. This, just to prove to y'all that I did it. Successfully.

We had such a laugh that day. It was my birthday and somehow that was mentioned in one of our blethers with Lucy and the waitress. It was said that I was in my 50th year, and so the dear ladies there secretly piped melted chocolate on a place and stuck a candle in a gorgeous salted caramel macaroon!

I'm aware that a picture speaks a thousand words, so I want to tell y'all very loudly that I was forty-nine this week, not fifty. And yet, I'm pretty sure that if I'm around for my 50th next year, some of you will be saying, "I'm sure I remember her being 50 last year".  Aye, you will.... you just wait and see.

Well, poor Lucy was so embarrassed that she'd got my age wrong, but I assured her that her guess work was pretty good and that I wasn't in the slightest offended that she reckoned I looked fifty.

Nope, not in the slightest.

And to prove it, I even came back with Mum and Dad the following day! This time we came for lunch, and even though I don't have photos of the food (I know - unforgivable, considering I blog), I have to tell you that Dad's Warm Smoked Salmon Salad was out of this world. Its presentation, which we all saw, and its taste, for which only Dad can vouch (yeah, I know, he didn't even offer me a taste. Disgraceful.) were equally delightful. My Sweet Potato and Roasted Pepper Soup was everything a soup ought to be. 

Tasty. Warming. Perfect.

And so, will we be returning for more lunches, more teas and cakes, and undoubtedly more chat and laughter. Having had a taste of Aberdeen, I am delighted to hear Mum sing the praises of Inverurie as 'where I want to shop from now on'. When it comes to shopping, small towns are so much more enjoyable than cities. I like the pace at which they go. I like the smaller shops, in which staff often have a vested interest in the success of the business. I do love finding - and will have to spend some proper time looking for - a local greengrocer, baker, and butcher ... even though I do have to admit to having had my folks bring out white pudding and beef sausages from my favourite Stornoway butcher. I do love 'Willie MacLeod's sausages', and in all our years in Glasgow before moving back home, I never bought a sausage in the city. Every time we came home, or when anyone was coming to visit us in Glasgow, our freezer would end up loaded with these Stornoway sausages. It would seem that tradition is going to carry on now that we've moved away from home again.

Still, Inverurie has an interesting array of shops, and as far as shopping can be enjoyable, this is my kind of browsing.

Aren't we so blessed to have such opportunities for fun, laughter, and enjoyment in our lives. What gifts these things are from God. When we hear of such devastation and such evil taking place in other nations and cities, we can only praise God in the words of the Psalmist: "Unto me the lines have fallen in very pleasant places."

Certainly, I can say these words, and I'm sure so many of you can too. As we approach this season of Thanksgiving, I do wish I could truly say that I was as thankful over this past year as I ought to have been. So many big things for which to give thanks. And so many 'little' things too. 

A Day on Swainbost Beach

Of all the beaches I visit, my favourite has got to be Swainbost beach. Now, undoubtedly, part of my bias comes from the fact that this is the beach on which so many of my childhood memories were made. Growing up, this was My Beach.

But I also love it for what it has to offer: the mix of sand and rocks, and sea and rock pools. Places to shelter from any breeze that may be blowing, places to set out a picnic on a rock. I love it all!

Today's visit did not disappoint.

For the first hour, I read and took notes for my Bible study. 

Calum Stewart and my nephew, Ross, were having a wonderful time with their boogie boards, or simply sitting on the warm rocks and chatting.

After we'd been at the beach for an hour or so, some more folks joined us. My Mum - yes, my Mum! - came along with my niece and nephew, Iona and Owen, and some of Owen's friends.

The kids even managed to get Granny to dip her toes into the sea.

It was a very special day for me because the memories that make Swainbost beach such a wonderful place for me were all created with my Mum! Mum hadn't been on this beach since we were children until today, so it was a very special day for her. Today, she made more memories - not only with her own offspring, but with the next generation - her grandchildren.

Even Calum Stewart seemed lost in thought at times.

As the tide comes in, lovely pools form - pools with warmer water than the open sea. I remember playing in this very pool as a child.

Looking north towards the Eye of the Butt from the beach itself, 

... and from the machair. The machair flowers are so lovely at this time of year. To have the wonderful pinks and yellows and purples of the flowers, and the deep blues, turquoises and greens of the sea all in one picture is truly a delight.

Eye candy.

And finally ... just to prove that I did get my feet wet ...

Giving Thanks ... Beginning at my Childhood

I hardly know where to begin in my list of 'Things for which I am Thankful' ... I can begin, but where would it ever end. My blessings are innumerable, and seem immeasurable. For this post, I'm going to concentrate on my past and on some of the blessings I enjoyed in my childhood years.


1. I am thankful for the parents God gave me. 

My childhood was one of total love and security. I took it completely for granted, and it simply didn't occur to me that this was not the norm for everyone else. It's only now, as I've become much older, that I realize how amazingly blessed my childhood was. 

I read the horrors of the hundreds of thousands of baby girls who are killed in the womb before they ever see the light of day - simply because they are girls. And I begin to grasp the blessing of growing up in a family, in an era, and in a culture where I was never, ever made to feel inferior because I was a girl. 

I become aware of what some children have to suffer because of parents who have addictions and who are violent and abusive, and I begin to grasp the amazing blessing of growing up not even knowing such lives existed.

I read of so many devastatingly sad lives, and I can only praise God for the wonderfully happy childhood with which He blessed me.

I am thankful for my Mum:

... who was at home every single day when I came home from school;

... who did all the household 'chores' much more efficiently than I do, and who did them all - as far as I could see - with joy in her heart;

... who always let us know that school holidays were her favourite time of the year, and who always dreaded the end of holidays and the beginning of a new term. She was happiest when we were all at home, and for the sense of security that brought, I will always be thankful;

... who loved to have an open door. I have wonderful memories of lots of aunts, uncles and cousins with us for Christmas or New Year dinners; I knew as I got older that I could invite any friends to our home, whether for a meal or to stay for a while; and I know it was easy for my childhood friends to come into my home any time.


I am thankful for my Dad:

... who worked so hard, often six days each week, and without complaining. I never, ever heard my Dad moan about 'another day at work'. Not ever.

... who, despite his long working hours, spent many evenings playing Monopoly with us kids. Now that the Builder and I are at the stage of life at which he then was, I see more and more how much of a labour of love these Monopoly games were.

... who, along with Mum, thought nothing of taking us off school on Wednesdays in May or in August so we could all go for a day trip to Harris. When he had a day off, it was on a Wednesday - not ideal when Saturday was our day off school. These 'unofficial' days off sorted that. I'm not aware that our education suffered significantly, but I am aware that precious memories were made - memories of picnic baskets, of fishing rods, or long sunny days roaming Harris hills. 

... and one more thing: my Dad was not at all concerned for what other people thought or may have said about his family. I remember him saying on a number of occasions that 'what other people do is not our business, and what other people say about what we do isn't our worry. What God thinks of what we do is all that matters'. This attitude made a deep, deep impression on me, and I am very thankful for it.

Yes, I'm very thankful to God for the parents He gave me.


2. I am thankful for the place in which we live, and where I grew up.

In a similar way to my home life, life in the wider community was also blessed. In my naivety, I thought all boys and girls could wander home from school, taking hours to meander the mile between school and home. I had no idea that it wasn't the norm not to fear anyone, and not to learn not to talk to strangers. When my friends and I walked home from school each afternoon, we would stop for a game of football on an empty patch of land beside the river. We'd stand at the bridge and throw stones into the water and then we'd find a stone to kick all the way home, following it into its numerous digressions into the ditches. We'd saunter down the road as if we had all the time in the world - after all, we did, didn't we? We'd stop off to say Hi to an old cailleach who may have happened to be at her door as we passed. We'd accept sweets or biscuits from anyone who offered them, and we didn't know that other children lived totally different lives.

I didn't know there was such a thing as fear. For that, I truly give thanks to God.


3. I am thankful for the people who were my neighbours.

The Builder often laughs at me because I know so few people on the island and even in our district. He says this: 'If they weren't in Taigh Stingear or in Taigh a' Mhinisteir, Anne will have no clue who they are'.  These two houses were next door to our home, and he's not far wrong! I really knew very few people by name - remember what I said about my Dad? He never spoke about people and what they were doing (I don't mean just gossiping, but even in general chit-chat). But these two homes that I mentioned have such warm and happy memories for me. I don't want to mention names on the blog without people's permission, but Taigh Stingear was always such a warm home for me. The kitchen always seemed to smell of scones and of strong tea - oh, this is bringing so many memories flooding into my mind, making me smile, laugh and yes, cry! And Taigh a' Mhinisteir was the same: warm and loving, it felt to me like an extension of my own home. To this day it reminds me of my Grandpa and the people he loved, and that fills me with joyful sadness. These 'extensions' to our home allowed for a neighbourliness that is fast becoming a thing of the past. I am thankful to have grown up during a time when wandering into my neighbour's home for a cuppa was considered normal. And I'm thankful for bonds that were created then and that last a lifetime.

My darling Grandpa, front right, with three of his nephews.

My Grampa

This is my family tree.

 

My line is in bold: it shows my Mum's side; her Dad's and his parents.

I didn't have space to go further back than that, but one day - when I have time (huh? What's 'time'?, Where does a person get that?!) I may do a full family tree, going as far back as I can.

 

Highlighted in this copy is Malcolm MacDonald. He was my mum's dad.

Although his official name was Malcolm, he was Calum to everyone who knew him.

In the days in which his birth was being registered, the names on the official birth certificates had to be English. And so, although most people had Gaelic names, their birth certificate would show the English version of that name.

I'll tell you a little about my grandfather.

My Grampa lived in our family home until his death. I was nine years old when he died and to this day, I can barely speak of him without getting teary.

I know nobody is perfect, but humanly speaking.... He was the perfect grandfather.

I never, ever remembered him being impatient, tired or grumpy. When my older brother was a wee boy, he traipsed along side him all day, every day. When Grampa went to the peat stack for peats, my brother followed with the wee red wheelbarrow Grampa had made him; when he went to the barn, my brother followed him there. 

My mum can honestly say that she never had one cause in all the years of living with him of frustration or anger. Grampa was, of course, my Dad's father-in-law. He can think of not one bad word to say about him; on the contrary, he can't praise him enough. He adored him.

 

This photo is not clear, but here he is going to give his only daughter - my Mum! - away on her wedding day.

He didn't interfere with Mum and Dad when they were bringing us kids up, and yet, it would break his heart if he saw us being chastised in any way. He was a softie.

Over the years, whenever I'd meet older people from our district and tell them whose granddaughter I was, without fail, I'd get the same response - paraphrased in the sentiment: 'Beloved for your fathers' sakes' (Rom 11:28) (Gràdhaichte air sgàth nan athraichean). I was then automatically loved because of the love these people had for both my grandparents.

....Back to the beginning...

Grandpa was born in 1892, just a few yards from the house in which I grew up, and less than a mile from where I live now. His father was William MacDonald, and his mother, Catherine (Catriona Bheag - wee Catherine!).

He served in the Navy during the First World War. Like most men of his generation, he never talked about his wartime experiences. How I'd love to be able to speak to him now, when the lives of men of his generation would fascinate me.

My Grampa was at sea before he married, and spent twelve years sailing in New Zealand. Mum is not sure, but it's likely he 'jumped ship' like many island boys did. He sailed on two ships: the TTS Wahine, which was an inter-island ferry sailing between Wellington and Lyttelton, NZ; and the Tahiti, seen here in Wellington Harbour in 1928.

There is no way of knowing, but he could have been on the ship when this photo was taken, in 1928.

My mum has two large paintings of the ships I named here. They are beautiful - painted on a very dark navy velvet.

We don't know what made him come back 'home', but shortly after returning, he married Annie Morrison. He was nearly 40; she was 35. They were to be blessed with four children, although they lost one child, Donald Gunn, with pneumonia at the age of about 3 months. 

My Mum was the only daughter, and the youngest. (Does that make her automatically spoiled?!)

 

Here is Grampa at the front, along with three nephews - brothers. The brother on the far right is my mum's cousin who is now in Ontario, and with whom we've been able to visit a couple of times. The other two are, sadly, no longer with us.

Oh, the picture on the wall (with the white frame - what can I say? - it was the 60s) is one of the New Zealand ships spoken of previously.

My Grampa was such a huge part of my life, and yet, to our children, he's only a name. Isn't that the way of things. One generation moves on and another comes in its place.


Very soon, that will be us....just a name on someone's family tree.

"As for man, his days are as grass: as a flower of the field, so he flourisheth.

For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more." (Psalm 103: 15, 16) 

Or, in the Scottish Metrical version, which I love... 

...

Frail man, his days are like the grass,

as flow'r in field he grows:

For over it the wind doth pass.

and it away is gone;

And of the place where once it was

it shall no more be known.