Memories of Menstrie
I have been in regular contact with Menstrie Community Council as a liaison with Nova Scotia. I was also invited by Les to come along as photographer for the Community during the raising of the Flags and Tree planting in September, which will, I am sure, be further developed in the future.
"Who am I?", some may wonder as they read this. Well, having been prompted by Caroline Crawford (M.C.Council Secretary) because she knew of my association with the village, she has made me think of days so long ago, of a childhood spent in and around the village which was a veritable adventure playground to any child of the era.
Being an only child, I was born and raised in Stirling. My mother was a Menstrie girl from a large family from Ochil Road, (just as one goes up onto the hillside). I well remember the Macks, Sinclairs and Ramsays within the few yards which occupied what is now a cleared area and parking place at the bridge. Every week, Mother and I set off from Stirling to spend the day at my grandparents', which invariably resulted in coming off Alexander's bus at Logie or, on a good day, Blairlogie, as I was a very poor traveller and we would walk to Ochil Road along the old upper coach road. The days of smelly diesel and wooden bus seats are something long since disappeared, but remain in one's mind and also by imprint!!!! (thank goodness for upholstered modern seats).
Funnily, as we all seem to do, it's the warm sunny days that remain in the minds' eye hence:
• Days of guddling about in the burn and looking with awe at the very old remnants of the Mill and what was visible of the "race" which drove the waterwheel powering industry within.
• Days spent on the hill and glen collecting hazelnuts when the season was right and which you don't hear of being done these days, but then maybe it is.
• Visits to Jerah which at the time was still used by shepherds, where the children in my mother's childhood walked from Jerah to Menstrie School and back irrespective of weather, although in severe conditions they were always sure of a welcome stay in the village as was done in every small community.
• On many a day, when my Father could join us, it was not unusual to walk over to the Sherriffmuir Inn for tea and scones, then return to the village and sometimes take the ascent of Dumyat with its wonderful view of a village, much smaller than today.
• At lambing time it was always a thing of wonder seeing the lambs and the odd appearance of ones that seemed to have "a coat on", being a way of enticing ewes to adopt orphan Iambs,
• Later in the year, the gathering would come and sheep were sheared with the old hand-shears, very quickly and expertly by Mr Burns, the shepherd.
• A visit to Charlie Taylor's for a fish supper cooked in old-fashioned fat and wrapped up in the newspaper of the day/week before was the norm countrywide. And I have in mind that Charlie's was not the only shop of its kind as I think the Gowans's dabbled in providing the same for a period. Anyone who reads this may confirm or otherwise if my memory fades a bit at times.
One highlight of my days developed into my being interested in photography. I was the one that took the picture "Taking the Fox for a walk" when I ventured to use the Box camera which we owned, to record most likely the only image of my older cousin with the fox. It was usual, in those days, for fox shoots to take place and it was on such a one that my uncle brought home this lone cub which became well known in the village and I may say the only one. When it reached maturity, after much discussion, it was allowed to return to the wild. This reminds me, as I write, of the famous novel "Call of the Wild" by Jack London which was made into one of the first wildlife films. Somebody might remember it. If you do, don't say too loudly or you will give your age away.
Well, there is so much starting to come to mind but maybe another day.
December 2009