It’s not often we can report on Kiwi scones. However, thanks to our Brisbane correspondent we can send this post from Larnach Castle in Dunedin where he is visiting his daughter.
The story of the castle which William Larnach built in 1871 is bitter sweet. Larnach means “man of Lorne” in Gaelic so his parents probably came from that part of Argyll on the Scottish west coast. He was a very successful business man, banker and politician who prospered through land speculation. His wealth allowed him to build New Zealand’s only castle here in Dunedin. But now the gossip.
European tradesmen were brought in to creat interiors from the highest quality materials
He had six children by his first wife however she died, aged 38 shortly after the birth of their youngest. He then married the children’s governess who also died aged 38. Next he married a much younger woman but she was rumoured to be having an affair with one of his sons. Eventually, having outlived all his wives, he faced financial and other seemingly unsurmountable hardships. In the Parliament building in 1898 he shot himself dead … tragic!
No expense spared on lavish Victorian interiors
Since 1967 it has been owned and cared for by the Barker family who open the castle and its beautiful gardens on a daily basis.
Our correspondent was there to sample their Devonshire Tea. In his own words: “The scones were of a decent size and had nice crunchy crust but the body was not of the highest standard. Too dry and crumbly for my liking and the jam and cream that came with it looked like World War 2 ration sizes. I took a detour from the tea and had a cappuccino instead. Yes I know a serious deduction in style points and probably makes me a traitor to the true scone blog cause. In the photo I’ll let you puzzle over who had the jam on top. Tiny by true Scottish castle standards but a lovely wee piece of Scotland here in NZ.”
Don’t worry about jam on top. It was a “Devonshire” Tea after all so, although totally uncivilised, is probably more authentic! We are truly grateful to have our sconological knowledge expanded in this way. Compared to Scotland, however, it seems a pity that New Zealand has just one castle. Mind you, that’s probably what happens when you’re not trying to fend off English invaders all the time 🥴
Just in case readers are beginning to get the wrong idea and assume that we just hang out in places like the Fife Arms, let us banish that thought. Nothing could be further from the truth. This post comes from somewhere that is no less enjoyable but from the opposite end of the spectrum. The Humbie Hub is a small, humble even, village Post Office/Cafe/Shop just south of Edinburgh … but how did we hear about it? Well, somebody told somebody who told somebody else who told our Trossachs correspondents who told us. The scone network of spies and informers spreads ever deeper.
Got to let mum know
A small hamlet like Humbie is no stranger to momentous events. Communication is an odd beast these days. Everybody (especially Alexa) seems to know everything and nothing, all at the same time. Obviously the name Humbie Hub infers that it is at the centre of things … and it very much is! This was particularly true, however, in 1953 when it was known as the Telegraph & Telephone Call Office. Suffice to say that the good folks of Humbie knew that Mount Everest had been conquered long before the rest of the world. The leader of the Everest expedition, John Hunt, sent a telegram to his mum who was living in Humbie at the time. The news wasn’t released to the rest of the world until the following month on the day of Queen Elizabeth’s coronation.
Joyous
Whitburgh House and Dovecote where dad worked as a forester
By that time, of course, the village was well used to momentous events. A few years previously I had been born there!
Whitburgh cottages in 1948,, 2012 and the present day
That glorious event was celebrated with much pageantry and joyous celebrations in the street(s) of Humbie … I’m pretty sure there’s more than one street. At least that’s how I imagine it.
It’s just missing a blue plaque
I left when I was two months old and headed north to the Highlands. I always used to say that although I had been born in Humbie, I’d never been there. Obviously a false statement. Incredibly, sixty four years were to elapse before I darkened Humbie’s doorstep again. The news from our Trossachs correspondents about the advent of the Humbie Hub was all the excuse we needed for another visit.
Thoughtful
There were lots of people sitting outside in the spring sunshine and as soon as you enter the Humbie Hub you just sense that it’s a happy place. As well as the Post Office you can buy almost anything imaginable in the shop. There’s a therapy room, a studio and rooms to let … they don’t miss a trick.
We ordered a ham and mustard toastie and a fruit scone … both to share. Thoughtfully, they halved the toastie and served it on separate plates along with some salad. Likewise the scone came with a second plate complete with jam and butter. That’s never happened to us anywhere else. Great service from people who, although busy, were cheerful and still took the time to chat. The very delicious scone had been baked by the lovely smiling Jenny. It’s a slight departure from custom but we decided to overlook the lack of cream and award a topscone … great place.
Toilets
It was intriguing to find that Humbie Hub toilet was twinned with another not quite so plush one in Malawi thanks to the local Primary school. We knew that Scotland had a long standing friendship with Malawi through the Scotland-Malawi Partnership by hadn’t realised it extended to toilets. It’s shocking to think, with the £trillions being thrown at wars all over the place, that kiddiwinks are still dying of diarrhoea through lack of basic sanitation.
Next the the cottage where I was born there’s a panther made of pennies …. we don’t understand either!
And another mystery, Now that Iran has launched an overnight attack on Israel, Western governments seem to be urging retaliation. Both Israel and Iran worship the same God, why don’t they ask Him what He would do? Whatever happened to “turn the other cheek?”
ps: one of the Trossachs correspondent’s informants for this post was teacher, operatic soprano and artist Margot Archibald.
“Adagio” by Margot Archibald
On the 23rd of this month she will be holding an exhibition of her atmospheric works at the Humbie Hub. All proceeds go to MacMillan Cancer and victims of the Holocaust. Pat and I don’t know Margot but very much hope she sells the lot … good luck!
With the Fife Arms in Braemar being voted the most stylish place in Britain it would seem like the natural habitat for Pat and I. The natural habitat for the twitchers amongst you is right at the end of this post where you can see Pat’s bird list for our stay in the Cairngorms. The dipper,was our favourite on this trip.
the Drawing Room
Braemar, of course is on Royal Deeside and is within spitting distance of Balmoral, the Royals favourite 50,000 acre playground. Meanwhile we are still having to make do on the Delnabo Estate, a mere 3,500 acres. The Royal connection probably doesn’t do the Fife Arms any harm with its cheapest room coming in at £750 per night … and the hotel is fully booked.
Trepidation
Introducing five cartwheeling, somersaulting, back-flipping granddaughters to such salubrious surroundings is something you do with a certain sense of trepidation.
One of the Picassos
There’s twelve in our party and we were here for afternoon tea. It was going to be interesting and probably not what this place is used to. Before that however some of us went on the art tour. The Swiss couple who own the hotel are billionaire gallerists so the place is hanging with Picassos and other works of art. Pat and I were left looking after the children while the tour was going on. We needn’t have worried too much about the children. They ended up entertaining the other guests to much acclaim on the grand piano in the reception area. When they’re not abusing their grandpa they’re actually quite a talented bunch. Click here for a wee sample
dining area with a chandelier made of kitchen utensils
It seems odd that all the Picassos and other works of art are just hanging in public areas whereas the cozy wee bar we were shown into is kept locked.
Our daughters in their natural habitat
It only makes sense when you realise that they have two bottles of whisky priced at £10,000 …not for a bottle, just a nip! Okay it’s 190 years old and was only recently discovered in a forgotten cellar room in Blair Castle. But even though!? And, more to the point, how do you manage to have a room you’ve forgotten for 190 years?
Not normal
Normally afternoon tea would be served in the beautiful quiet drawing room however because there was a host of us they said the chef’s table in the Clunie restaurant would be a better option. We had it all to ourselves which was maybe just as well.
Everyone should have a full sized stag in their dining room
It took a while for our afternoon tea to appear but when it did we were not disappointed.
Private dining with a chandelier made of kitchen utensils
The scones were on the bottom tier and cosily wrapped up in a linen towel while we tackled a delicious array of sandwiches and sausage rolls. By the time we got round to the scones they were still lovely and warm. With the accompanying Fife Arms berry jam and clotted cream served in beautiful silver dishes this was a bit of a no brainer…. topscone!
Not your normal afternoon tea
Mystifying
There’s no doubt that the Fife Arms is a stylish, if expensive, place. It’s fully booked so they are obviously able to find people willing to pay their prices in a small Highland village like Braemar. It’s a kind of comment on the human condition. A Picasso is just paint on canvas yet we give it some magical attribution that artificially imposes an impossible value. It’s the same for a 190 year old whisky, is it worth £10,000 per sip? For simple folks like ourselves, it’s mystifying.
Mind you, not nearly as mystifying as the US and UK’s complete inability to recognise genocide. Britain in particular is more practiced than most in genocide so they should know it when they see it. Of course, Britain has to follow US’s directives so its eyesight is severely impaired.
Fireplace featuring the poems of Robert Burns
It has been the most wonderful week at Delnabo Lodge. Great house, great company, great scenery, great weather, great food … just great! But as they say “all good things …”
Circle Of Pieter Brueghel The Younger (1564 – 1636)
The Bothy Bakery is in Grantown-on-Spey in the Scottish Highlands, so how did we end up here? And before you jump to conclusions although this is the heart of whisky country, it’s not that. Normally we go to Ness Estates near Inverness for Easter with the family. This year, however, we
Delnabo Lodge
decided on Delnabo Lodge near Tomintoul, the UK’s highest village. At 1200 feet it’s a risky strategy in March/April when there was still a risk of snow. Have you ever tried rolling eggs in snow? Anyway, we drove there and the family all arrived safely from a combination of Inverness and Edinburgh airports. Delnabo Estate covers 3000 acres and the Lodge can accommodate up to 18 guests in total luxury. There’s only 13 in the family so we invited a family friend to join us.
He said he would travel by train and meet us in Grantown-on-Spey. That’s why we are here! Couldn’t find the station so we asked a lovely old lady in the street who said “There’s no station here but there bloody well should be” smiled and walked on. Turned out the nearest station was in Aviemore, 14 miles away. Our friend doesn’t use a mobile phone (we know??) so we were in a bit of a quandary. True to form, he just turned up having taken a bus from Aviemore.
Grandkids perusing the cakes
Grantown is a nice place with lots of little independent shops and craft places. There’s lots of cafés but a young chap in one of the art galleries told us the best cafe was the Bothy Bakery, in a local industrial estate. Didn’t sound too exciting but we decided to give it a go anyway. Turned out not to be a café as such but a bakery with a few tables and chairs outside in the car park. No worries, it was a nice day and all the food including the scones looked great.
The Kiwi owner founded the very successful Mountain Cafe in Aviemore several years ago but it didn’t survive COVID. He decided to reinvent his operation and set up the Bothy Bakery, here in his home town. There’s plenty people working in the bakery and they deliver everything to the surrounding area so it seems to be successful. No airs and graces here and no cream either! Our scone was placed in a brown paper bag and we went outside with what they described as some Kick Ass coffee. There was also some prepacked Irish butter and a plastic tub of strawberry jam in the bag. The scone was actually very nice and it was lovely to be sitting out in the sun with all the family. However, our granddaughters abandoned us completely as soon as a girl appeared with a cardboard box containing a puppy. Can’t compete with a puppy!
Imagine for a moment that it’s the 18th century and you’re a farmer with a few cows on the Isle of Jura. The cattle are ready for market but that’s in Falkirk, 150 miles away. What do you do? It’s perfectly simple really. You walk the cattle up to the very north of the island past Barnhill, the cottage where George Orwell wrote “1984”. Then you swim them past the infamous Corryvreckan whirlpool to the Craignish peninsula on the mainland. And, had it been there in the 18th century, a further five mile walk would have taken you to Lucy’s cafe in the village of Ardfern. In many ways, Orwell’s dystopian vision in “1984” of rival dictatorships and Big Brother seems uncomfortably realistic these days.
Hardy
Of course, it probably wasn’t quite like that. The farmers would combine their animals into relatively large herds and maybe even use professional drovers for the long and arduous trek. Not sure that we would fancy crossing this stretch of water in a rowing boat at the best of times never mind with a whole lot of swimming cows tethered to it. They were hardy souls back then!
For being so off the beaten track, Ardfern is a really lively place with around 400 people calling it home. There’s a large marina and it’s popular with artists, writers and crafts people as well as several technology based industries.
Painting of Lucy’s with the local folk depicted as fairies
Lucy’s is similarly energetic and has a lovely vibe about it. The staff were very welcoming and we were delighted to see some scones displayed on the counter … yeah!
Giant
Before our scone we decided on something savoury, a sausage roll! Goodness, when it arrived it was a giant, by far the biggest sausage roll we have ever come across! A delicious feast in itself but would we manage a scone as well? Of course we could! No cream but it came with plenty of jam and butter. Freshly baked and just very nice. All in all, Lucy’s was a great place and an unexpected find in an unexpected place.
Pat at Dunaad in 2012 and trying her right foot in the stone … perfect fit!
Craignish and the surrounding area may be isolated and remote by modern standards but it was once the centre of many people’s worlds. The nearby ancient hillfort of Dunadd was at the centre of the Gaelic kingdom of Dalriada. It stretched across the west coast of Scotland and Northern Ireland. From the 6th century, Kings were crowned here in a ceremony which involved them placing their right foot in a footprint carved into the rock. In 843, Kenneth McAlpin, King of the Picts married into the Scots of Dalriada and became the first King of “Scotland”. All was peaceful from then on. Do you think we can find a nice Ukrainian princess for Putin to marry … or a Palestinian one for Netanyahu? Okay, it wasn’t a serious question.
This is a post about boats, planes, surfing and a couple of scones. How exciting is that?
Last year Pat and I intended to celebrate our Golden Wedding at Coll Hotel. Just the two of us and a nice quite few days on an island would just be perfect. However, we had not reckoned with our children who announced that they were coming up from the south of England to celebrate with us. We had to curtail our stay on Coll and return home … but that’s another story. This year, because I had decided to have yet another birthday, Pat thought we should complete our stay at Coll Hotel. Hopefully this post illustrates some of the delights of a tiny island like Coll.
Travelling
For us, travelling by ferry is always fun, an event in itself! Looking out for dolphins, whales, birds and landmarks, passes the time very quickly. You really feel as if you are going somewhere. It was the MV Clansman that was taking us on our three hour journey from Oban. After Coll it sails on to the Isle of Tiree, returns to Coll then back to Oban. In summer it makes the round trip twice a day laden with tourists but at this time of year it’s relatively quiet.
We bought some eggs at an honesty box. The box was stuffed with money … no-one had bothered to empty it.
Normally in remote hotels like this the staff change with every season so it’s testament to Coll Hotel that they can retain their staff throughout the winter. It was great to see friendly familiar faces again. After our painful, never to be repeated, experience last year on bikes, this time we had the car. The island is 13 miles long and 3 miles wide. However, the twisty single track roads with sheep lying on them, dictate that you don’t get anywhere very quickly. But who needs to get anywhere quickly on Coll? After checkin in we headed off to the east end of the island as far as the road would take us.
Pat on the beach at Sorisdale. at the east of the island. Ardnamurchan on the horizon.
There are about twenty notable beaches and we didn’t meet anyone on any of the ones we visited. By the time we had explored this end of the island it was time to make our way back to the hotel for dinner.
One of the old traditional houses. Originally it probably had a turf roof
Twitching
Next day, the weather was lovely again and we were going to explore the rest of the island to the west, The previous day, Pat had started a bird list and was keen to add to it. The Island Café was closed so we told the hotel we would be back around 3pm for scones … got to check that standards are maintained after all!
Pat at the airport. No one there but you can just go in and use the facilities. Planes fly to and from the Isle of Tiree and Oban on the mainland
Approaching the west of the island you come on the extraordinary sight of the two Breachacha Castles … one old and one new.
Built in the 15th century Breachacha Castle was a stronghold of Clan MacLeanBuilt in 1750 this is the New Breachacha Castle currently for sale £450,000
While we were here, amongst other sightings we were able to add Snow Geese and a low flying Golden Eagle to Pat’s list … fantastic! None of the beaches are particularly accessible on Coll, They all involve a bit of a hike usually over massive sand dunes. The highest point is Ben Hogh a dune reaching a lofty 341 feet. We drove round to Bally Haugh (pronounced Bally Ho) beach but even that involved a trek of about half a mile.
Bally Haugh beach, best for surfing but we didn’t have our boards
What are the chances?
Here, its very easy to lose track of time. It was well after 3pm when we got back and too late for a scone. Sadly, it looked like this visit was going to be sconeless. It was after 5pm so time for a drink. Amazingly, in the bar the first people we met were a couple we had befriended in a bar in Oban before we left. Turns out they live just behind the Coll hotel.
Surprise, surprise, the staff gave a rousing rendition of “happy birthday” and a cake and a candle for every year of my mental age! We also made some new friends from Switzerland.
Next morning we, very reluctantly, had to take our leave. However, as we passed reception what should be on the desk but a little cardboard box. It contained two scones and some jam and cream to eat on the ferry. How nice was that? This is definitely one of our favourite hotels. We’ve run out of excuses to come back so we will just have to come back anyway.
Things must have happened out there in the big bad world but thankfully we are blissfully unaware.
The Clansman coming from Tiree to take us back to Oban
For those interested, this is Pat’s bird list compiled over one and a half days on Coll. There were geese everywhere but, of course 01, 13, 14 and 21 were particular highlights for us.
01 Great Northern Diver 02 Ringed plover 03 Fieldfare 04 Blackbird 05 Rock Dove 06 Greylag Geese 07 Starling 08 Common Gulls 09 Canada Geese 10 Hooded Crows 11 Grey Heron 12 Twite 13 Snow Geese 14 Hen Harrier 15 Oyster Catcher 16 House sparrow 17 Wren 18 Robin 19 Barnacle geese 20 Stonechat 21 Golden Eagle 22 Lapwing 23 Skylark 24 Raven 25 Curlew 26 Whopper swan 27 Mallard 28 Moorhen 29 Shag 30 Greenfinch 31 Collared dove.
We’ve been to the Hippodrome cinema again but as usual have gone on somewhere else for something to eat. Today it’s the turn of the Railbridge Bistro in South Queensferry.
La Binoche
The film we saw was an extraordinary French movie called ‘The Taste of Things’. It’s a gentle tale of romance centred around gastronomy. There’s a lot of talk about their pot-au-feu, being as heavenly as a Mozart symphony. Set in 1889 it could only have been made in France. Us Brits, apart from a few mmms and aahs, usually talk about everything except the food when we eat. It’s why the French regard us as an uncultured lot. The film was beautifully crafted; no music, sparse dialogue but great acting by Juliette Binoche. Sound and visuals were recorded in such a way that you could virtually smell the food. However, if you like rootin’, tootin’ shootin’ this is definitely not the film for you.
With three iconic bridges spanning the river Forth, South Queensferry has the dubious honour of being extremely popular with tourists. With its very narrow streets, it got so chaotic in the summer months that they’ve introduced a one way system. You can come in from the west but if you want to return the same way, you can’t. It all gets a bit complicated! Heyho, on the upside because it’s so busy it can support an entire frontage of large pubs and eateries. This Railbridge Bistro is one we haven’t visited before.
Six Nations
Lots of noisy landscaping work going on outside which was a bit off-putting but we decided to venture in anyway. It’s big and even has an upstairs balcony for even better views of the bridges. The Six Nations Rugby Championship is on at the moment so it was bedecked with flags of all the participating countries. The staff had iPad type devices for placing orders hanging round their necks so it’s geared up to cater for the hungry hordes. Luckily it wasn’t too busy for us and they seated us on a comfortable big leather sofa where we could watch a screen showing a movie about the construction of the bridge. We now know all about it now so will bore you with stats later, but first the scones.
We ordered fruit scones which came with jam cream and a nice selection of berries. It was all really nicely presented and the staff were very friendly and attentive. The scone itself was also surprisingly good. However, with all the mechanical noise going on outside the overall experience wasn’t quite what it could have been. No topscone, but close!
View of the bridge from the Railbridge Bistro
Progress
From a Health & Safety point of view the construction of the three bridges illustrates how H&S has improved over the years. 73 workers lost their lives building the rail bridge in 1890, then 7 were lost building the first road bridge in 1964 and only 1 was lost building the most recent one in 2017.
The Railbridge is an engineering wonder. It was built to restore the public’s faith in bridges after the Tay Bridge Disaster in 1879 when a passenger train passing over it plunged into the river. Unfortunately it also resulted in some of William McGonagall’s worst poetry.
Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv’ry Tay! Alas! I am very sorry to say That ninety lives have been taken away On the last Sabbath day of 1879, Which will be remember’d for a very long time.
‘Twas about seven o’clock at night, And the wind it blew with all its might, And the rain came pouring down, And the dark clouds seem’d to frown, And the Demon of the air seem’d to say- “I’ll blow down the Bridge of Tay.”
Obviously, something had to be done to prevent McGonagall writing stuff like that again. Today, after over 130 years, the Forth Railbridge is still used daily by 200 trains.
A good movie followed by a good scone … that’s a good day!
It seems as if Powmill Milk Bar has always been there. Since time immemorial we have driven past it on our way to other places and said “we must go in there some time“. It’s always been a wooden shack style structure but it’s been there so long, the current incarnation must be third or fourth generation.
Easyriders
Anyway, It was a nice day and we had been driving on inexpicably quiet roads to get here. Then it all became clear. Everybody was already here at Powmill Milk Bar! It was mobbed and it was obviously a favoured spot for motorbikes. Leather clad blokes were standing around admiring each other’s bikes in the way that leather clad blokes do. There was also some middle aged car bound blokes admiring all the Ducatis and Kawasaki flying machines and presumably dreaming of a life that might have been.
Scooters in the car park
Preloaded!
Inside it was going like a fair. We had to join the line at the self service counter but fortunately it went very quickly. A fruit scone was all we wanted but when we asked for jam and cream it seemed to cause some confusion. They just looked at us and said “we have cream scones“! It seemed easier just to agree though normally we steer well clear of preloaded scones. We’re just pernickety and like the performance of constructing our scones according to our own personal taste. On the plus side, however, we were delighted to find that they served Henry’s coffee … our long standing favourite.
Maybe the coffee influenced our experience but we really enjoyed our visit here and wondered why we hadn’t done it years ago. With its straight forward, no airs and graces, approach, we completely understand why it’s so popular. Generally you can’t eat preloaded scones without getting in a bit of a mess. The contents squidge out in all directions. However, a fork and knife helped make this one more manageable. Mind you, the light crumbly nature of the scone even made this quite tricky. Very nice though.
Unforgivable
Politics is so incomprehensible these days we are reluctant to comment on any of it. Putin’s war in Ukraine seems incomprehensible and unforgivable. Imagine if we could just go around murdering anyone who disagreed with us with seeming impunity? Goodness, that would reduce the world’s population quite considerably.
Britain and America’s slavish support for Israel also seems unforgivable. With all the anger generated it’s little wonder that George Galloway has won the Rochdale by-election. Let’s see what his acknowledged oratory skills can do for the Palestinians. Precious little we suspect.
Starvation is now a huge problem in Gaza. Who would have thought that a Jewish state would end up guilty of genocide? Perhaps Israel is being advised by Britain. The British government has form. Its God-given sense of superiority led to them having a long, if not illustrious, history when it comes to starvation. The Irish Famine in the 1850s and the Bengal Famine in 1943 in which millions died, come to mind.
Terminal boredom
On this side of the pond, the prospect of a Sunak/Starmer General Election is boring everyone to death. On the other side a Biden/Trump rerun Presidential Election is depressing everyone to death. We’ll just stay here in Powmill looking at flying machines and dreaming of things we do understand … aah, the wind in our hair!
In our previous post from Hettie’s Tearoom we were on a mission to Dingwall to explore some family history. We’re still up north but this time we are on another sort of mission … to find an old friend. We haven’t seen him for something like thirty five years. Problem was that, other than his address, we didn’t have any contact details so we couldn’t warn him we were coming. Perhaps that was just as well otherwise he might have arranged to be ‘out’. After our sojourn to Dingwall we were heading for home but a slight diversion to Evanton, further along the Comarty Firth coast, was not going to add too much to our journey. First though, we stopped off here at the Storehouse of Foulis for a cuppa.
It gets its name because it was built as a Storehouse in 1740 as a central collection point for estate tenants to bring their oats and barley. These were then redistributed to farm workers as wages or sent off to markets further south. Boats would land on the beach, load up, and then take off on the next high tide. That’s all in the past, now it’s a large farm shop/restaurant.
What’s in a name?
Last time we were here seven years ago we had a chocolate and banana scone which left us somewhat underwhelmed. This time we played safe and ordered a fruit scone and some coffee. We had a table by the large bay window looking out over the water and a few redundant oil rigs parked like monuments to a time of plenty squandered by an idiotic Westminster government.
We thought we should check the address. Sacre bleu, he didn’t live in Evanton after all, he lived in Edderton. Evanton/Edderton, an easy mistake to make? We wanted to go south and home but Edderton would take us even further north to the Dornoch Firth … aargh! We deliberated on what to do as we ate our scone. It was nice and came with a nice pot of jam and some prepackaged butter. With this being a self-service place it was never going to be a topscone but enjoyable nevertheless.
Deliberations over, we returned to the car and headed north. Edderton is a small village which lies amidst beautiful countryside on the southern shores of the Dornoch Firth. It also has the good fortune to be sandwiched between the Balblair and Glenmorangie distilleries and presumably has a very happy population of about 400. Our satnav took us straight there but when it announced “you have arrived” it left us a choice of numerous houses at the end of a cul-de-sac .
I stayed in the car while Pat went to make enquiries. Suddenly, there was tap on my window and a chap wanting to know if I was looking for someone. They don’t miss much in Edderton! I told him the name to which he just shook his head and said there was no one of that name in the village. “He was a vet” I said, to which he replied “Oh, that’s his house there“. We had indeed ‘arrived’.
Young lads
after such a long passage of time, turning up unannounced isn’t really very fair. At first he didn’t recognise us but then he gasped “Good grief” … or words to that effect and we were welcomed in. Many years ago, he, I and another friend went on a climbing holiday to St Moritz in the Alps. It’s a long story of wrecked cars and other mishaps the like of which could only happen to young lads with no responsibilities. Suffice to say we never made it. We did, however, in a very round about way, manage to end up in the Pyrenees.
The Pyrenees in 1970, quite like the Alps, another easy mistake!
Magically it seemed like no time had passed at all since we last saw each other. Needless to say there was much catching up to be done. We did eventually get home … in the dark!
We’re on a mission! And, unbelievably perhaps, it’s not for a scone. We are trying to find where my grandfather, John McKinnon, was born. I never knew him but some information has come to light recently so we’re on his trail. He was born at the Heights of Fodderty just north of Inverness. That’s a long way, 170 miles. We know that our Aussie correspondents would regard this as comparable to a trip to the shops but for us it’s a long way. A stop was required round about the half way mark. That’s why we’re here in Hettie’s Tearoom in Pitlochry.
Remember our recent somewhat disastrous visit to Woodlea Cafe where chaos reigned and the scones were inedible? Well, this place is the exact opposite. It was busy but the chap at the counter welcomed us and said “I’m sure we can find you a nice wee table somewhere“. Already we were feeling good. The staff here know exactly what they were doing and seem happy doing it … great!
Oo Oo!
A fruit scone to share was our order. Pat chose a coffee and I chose Oo Oo Butterfly Blue tea. Apparently it’s supposed to help you “fly through a bright sunny day” … just the ticket! Hettie’s tearoom is super enthusiastic about tea and they send their special tea blends all over the world. Obviously my tea was loose leaf and came with its own egg timer so that I would know when it was suitable infused. They even give you a second saucer in case you want to remove the little basket of tea leaves. How thoughtful.
Red kites
We’re always on the lookout for birds and as we sat there we pondered on why we hardly ever see red kites. And when we do occasionally see them they always seem to be in relatively small geographical pockets. We reckoned it had to have something to do with them being a reintroduced species but then our attention was interrupted by the arrival of our scone. It was deliciously fresh and came with small pots of jam and cream. They don’t even ask if you want cream it just comes automatically. They know how to do things at Hettie’s Tearoom. Not very crunchy but thoroughly enjoyable nevertheless. Overall this was a delightful experience … topscone!
Multilingual directions to the toilets – cludgie is Glaswegian
McKenzies
You probably don’t want to know about my grandfather but we are going to tell you what little we know anyway. It illuminates an era which was not very long ago but now seems like a completely different world. We have never been to the Heights of Fodderty before and it was something of an adventure along almost impassible roads trying to find the house at Dochnaclear where he was born. John’s mother was a McKenzie and believe it or not McKenzie’s still live there.
Spooky
And equally unbelievable they run a very successful taxidermy service specialising in red deer. We hadn’t expected that! In one of the large outhouses they showed us a room full of stuffed red deer heads with magnificent antlers all ready for shipment to Dubai. It’s difficult not to feel conflicted about this sort of thing, but given that there are far too many of these fabulous creatures in Scotland doing untold damage to our forests and woodlands. we can just about handle it. And guess what, as we stood chatting a couple of red kites were wheeling overhead … spooky or what? Later we went to the schoolhouse where my great grandfather signed the register for his son’s birth with his mark.
Fodderty old schoolhouse with the mark (copied from the certificate) my great grandfather used
The laird, the doctor and the minister
It had never occurred to me before that members of my family would have been unable to read or write. It’s perfectly obvious, of course, when you think about it. Back then reading and writing was probably the preserve of the laird, the doctor and the minister. Anyway, John eventually moved to Fort Augustus where he married my grandmother, Catherine McDonald, in 1914. I never knew her either because she died four years later giving birth to my mother and her twin sister.
It seems almost inconceivable nowadays that John was left on his own with twin baby girls and their slightly older sister. Nowadays we take so much for granted. There was no NHS back then and social services must have been rudimentary at best. Presumably the local community would have stepped in to help him because all three girls grew up to be very fine women. He died in 1938.
Mission accomplished, we felt very satisfied with our day!
ps: In our wandering along the Heights of Fodderty we unexpectedly came across the Neil Gunn memorial. He is one of my favourite authors but one which I normally associate with Helmsdale, about 100 miles north of here. Turns out he spent the latter part of his live just a couple of hundred yards away from where my grandfather was born. It’s a small world! We also named our eldest daughter (by 5 mins) Kirsty, after a character in his book The Silver Darlings.
The Neil Gunn memorial with the Cromarty Firth and Dingwall in the distance
He wrote in the mornings and spent the afternoons walking. Looking at the state of the world today we will leave you with one of Gunn’s observations as he walked his beloved Heights of Fodderty.
“For at the end of the day, what’s all the bother about? Simply about human relations, about how we are to live one with another on the old earth. That’s all, ultimately. To understand one another, and to understand what we can about the earth, and, in the process, gather some peace of mind and, with luck, a little delight.”
by Bill and Pat Paterson and is about finding good scones throughout the world, with a little bit of politics
