Scottish Encounters: Mary Irvine
An Atmospheric Cruise on Loch Lomond
I recently went on an evening cruise on Loch Lomond – my first venture on the Loch in any kind of boat – organised jointly by the Friends of Loch Lomond and Trossachs and the Lennox Literary Society. It had been throwing (not the first word that sprang to mind) it down all day but as we went down to the boat ‘The Astina’ the sun was shining gloriously and continued to do so until it was replaced, on the return journey, by a display of colour in the sky and reflected by the loch.
A local group ‘Hell 4 Leather’, complete with bagpipes, played traditional Scottish tunes with a short break for three cover versions, one each from the Kinks, Neil Young and Van Morrison, the latter two particular favourites of mine. In addition local poet Ann McKinnon read some of her moving Scots poetry, two of which I append, with her permission. The third, along with these two, can also be read in the ‘Friends’ magazine, ‘The Voice’. This third one has been set to music by Angus Battinson who performed it against a great backdrop.
All in all a very atmospheric cruise.
Isabella of Inchmurrin (Countess of Albany-14th Century)
Her family was executed
at the king’s command
and she imprisoned,
in Tantalion,
but they relented,
promised Isabella a sanctuary.
The water was calm,
unlike her rushing heart.
She was bound for Inchmurrin,
a place of her childhood,
a place of beauty,
with a palace, sound and safe.
Alone on the shore, she watched
as the boat’s wake disappeared.
She gathered simple treasures,
learning to survive,
hoping for a time
when she might return home.
Each day the loch had another face
and her treasure chest grew –
shells, leaves, pebbles, flowers.
The water lapped the shore
as she scanned the horizon
from this island, her sanctuary.
She never saw a sail.
Her collection expanded
as she grew old, kept warm by,
her memories,
on the island
A Rare Raik on Inchlonaig
It ‘s a saft day, dreich drizzle
geying us the richt feel o’ the island.
The ben lowers ower us .
A gowden aigle soars
and a peregrine falcon swoops doon
tae gaither up a wee bit kinnen.
Its chicks’ll no gang hungert the nicht.
We trauchle through the mire,
backpack heavy, looking forrit
tae a braw lowe and het bree
and blethering richt throu the nicht
while ootside the windae, deer snicker,
corbies caw and the barn owl screeks.
A rair raik!
Ann McKinnon
Early Encounters with Scots!
Loved the sound and rhythm of Scots’ poetry long before I understood any of it. I was quite surprised when I became aware of the number of words in the local vernacular with which I was familiar. Words which I had always regarded as ‘slang’ in my part of Yorkshire. And in particular the glottal stop! There were so many that I began to wonder Why? How?
When I was small there was a certain time of the year when some ladies arrived and stayed for 2, maybe 3, weeks. I was scared of them, yet at the same time fascinated. They all seemed big. They wore bog, black wellies and white coats, like doctors, but the ladies’ coats were smeared with something dirty and smelly! And what’s more they talked ‘real funny’! I was very young and we didn’t travel much in those days. I later discovered that these ‘wee lassies’ were the herring girls who followed the herring fleets as they made their way, following the shoals, down from Aberdeen to Great Yarmouth. The girls obviously followed on land. I believe this industry started late 19th century. Now I wonder if some of these girls had stayed and influenced the local speech patterns.
But there were connections with Scotland in mediaeval times when Edward 1st (Malleus Scotorum), chose Wyke as the main port for supplying his army in his wars against the Scots. In 1299 he granted the town a charter and the town was re-named Kingston upon Hull.
More Scots Remembered
Our doctors were Scottish. A father and son team called Iain George and Iain Dunbar Innes. The local belief was that it was good to have a Scots doctor as they were the best trained.
I do remember our window cleaner who was called ‘Jock’. I actually thought that was his real name at the time but now realise it probably wasn’t! He rode a bicycle. One arm was thrust through a rung of his ladder which wobbled perilously as he steered one-handed. His bucket swung from the handle-bars. I once heard a local lady comment she wouldn’t have Jock to clean her ‘,winders, ‘cos ‘e uset mucky watter.’ – a reference, no doubt, to the infrequency he asked to change the water in his ‘bukkit’. I’ll say this for Jock though. He never let you down. If it was his day to clean your windows you got them cleaned, no matter what the weather. Wind, hail rain, snow, Jock was there, earning his money.
Next time…maybe (Την επόμενη φορά…μήπως )
Am thinking of taking you on the Classical Tour of Greece, now that I’ve got the photos sorted. Thanks Abi and I also owe thanks to Dan, I believe…
Links
Lennox Literary Society info from [email protected]
www.lochlomondtrossachs.org.uk/
www.sweeneyscruises.com/
www.bbc.co.uk/legacies/work/scotland/s_ne/
This section: Mary Irvine: Writer and Philhellene
Filed under: Mary Irvine: Writer and Philhellene
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