 | | | | I was born in the gardeners cottage at Hill House in 1936. My father, Walker Soutar, was head gardener/chauffeur to “the boss” a Mr. Robinson. My mother, Mary, assisted the cook in the big house.
One of my earliest memories at around age three was opening the tap on a large barrel of molasses in a storeroom to lick the treacle but was unable to close it. I ran off but there were no other suspects so I was in deep trouble.
I started school at Stormontfield infants aged four years. There were two teachers who took us right through from infants to eleven plus. They taught three different classes each and were very strict. I can only remember one name, a Miss Faith.
When the war started in 1939 my dad, along with my uncles and other young men of fighting age were called up. This meant that my mother and I had to vacate the gardeners cottage to go and live with my grandparents in field cottages to make room for the new gardener. The whole of Stormontfield including the Boag cottages, fishponds cottages and Colenden were occupied by bleach field workers and farm workers. It was in fact a feudal system.
From Monday to Friday two steam driven lorries (fodens) delivered linen cloth from Kirkcaldy to the works for bleaching and beetling. It arrived in long lengths of hundreds of yards and was fed into the works to be bleached using lime (I’m not sure whether it was quick or slaked lime) but it was considered dangerous to handle. The used lime was then dumped into pits at the rear of the works.
After bleaching the cloth was taken to the beetling mill where it was fed in to a system of large rollers and was hammered by rows of heavy wooden battens to soften the cloth, the noise was horrendous. Everyone who worked there for any length of time ended up stone deaf. This included my grandfather, William Christie, who spent many years in the beetling mill. My mother also did some time there. The processed cloth was then returned to Kirkcaldy to be cut up and distributed. I have since learned that my other grandfather Peter Soutar also worked in the beetling mill. He lived with my grandmother in Colenden, I can’t remember which cottage but it was near the end of the row close to the burn.
Both the bleach works and the beetling mill were powered by water taken from the river Tay via the lade ( which is like a canal) it is approximately two miles long about ten feet wide and six feet deep. When the water reached first the beetling mill then the works it was bled off into a drop of about ten or fifteen feet. The force of the water turned a big turbine which generated electricity which drove motors which in turn drove all the other machinery by a system of belts. THE FARMThe farm was adjacent to the bleach works and was part of the estate, providing essentials such as milk, potatoes, root vegetables, etc. (at a price), but mainly to the Big House. Surplus produce would of course be bought up by the national grid for distribution to outlets in the towns and cities. Most workers had their own gardens and allotments.
The first farm manager I can remember was a Mr. Turner, when he retired he was replaced by a Mr Fender. Initially the farm was entirely horse powered, everything from ploughing to planting and harvesting was done by horse drawn machinery. The horses were Clydesdales. There were four horses I remember, the head horseman and ploughman was called Tammy Cochrane, he was helped by Mr and Mrs Robinson’s daughter Betty who was as good at handling the horses as any man. There was also a cowman called Dick (??) and the farm dog “Scottie”.
At the back of the farm was the “smiddy” (smithy) where the blacksmith Tam Paige held sway. He could make almost anything out of wrought iron, such as repairs to broken ploughs - harrows - carts etc., including (in winter) sledges for those who could afford to buy one.
What really fascinated us youngsters was watching him shoe the horses. From a straight bar of iron he would heat, hammer, and shape a horse shoe. Then lifting the horse’s hoof, remove the old shoe and cut off any excess hoof that had overgrown. Next he would place the new red hot shoe onto the hoof, burning the shape of the shoe into the hoof to check if it would fit. This produced a cloud of pungent smoke. Then after a few minor adjustments, such as piercing holes to accommodate the nails, plunge it into a bucket of water then nail it on. “Riveting stuff”.
During the war years the planting and harvesting of crops such as potatoes, turnips and grain, extra help was needed, usually from the local area (earning extra money) and especially for the lifting of the potato crop. Kids were given two to three weeks off school in August / September to help lift the potatoes. Even refugees from Dundee and Glasgow were drafted in to help. This applied to all farms nationally.
Adults could earn £1.00 a day and kids 10 shillings, (big money)!
Two horses pulled the “digger” along the drill lifting and spinning the spuds out to one side. The “tattie pickers” had to gather them up into creels or baskets which were then heaved into a cart and taken to one corner of the field where a pit had been dug. This was lined with straw, the spuds were tipped in, covered with more straw then earth. This preserved them well into the winter and were only uncovered as and when needed.
There were no shops anywhere near Stormontfield, (there still aren’t). The nearest town by distance was new Scone three or four miles away, but apart from bicycles there was no way of getting there. Instead everyone would wait for Saturday to come round for the only bus service (Saturday only) to go into Perth to do all their shopping for the week.
The bus ran four trips - 9am in to town - return trip at midday and at 6pm and last one back from Perth at 9pm. Miss it and you would have to walk five miles. However during the week the co-op bakers van and a grocers van would do the rounds of all the cottages selling various essentials such as bread, tinned food, vegetables, sweets and biscuits, (there always seemed to be a lot of broken biscuits which would be thrown out in the road as he drove off for kids to scramble for).
The drivers of these vans would also deliver pre-ordered news papers and comics I.e. The courier, for adults and dandy--beano etc. for us kids. Another service they provided was collecting and delivering batteries to and from a garage in bridge end (Perth). Each battery was labelled with the owners name and for a few pence the garage owner would charge them up. These were essential for powering the radio everyone had, since there was no electricity in any of the houses. You needed two batteries, one in use and one on charge. They were about the size of a car battery.
In the summer a man with a motorcycle with a sidecar full of ice cream would turn up selling ice cream cones for 2d(old pence) and “sliders” (wafers) for 3d. This of course was a non-budgeted for expense for most families and had to be strictly controlled.
One other luxury we had occasionally was when some of the older boys who had bikes decided to cycle into Bridge end for fish and chips. Orders were taken from those who could provide money up front and off they went. About an hour later they returned with the booty. Chips-- 3d or 6d a bag, fish and chips 9d or 1/- (one shilling). It really made life worth living.
The actual living conditions in Stormontfield and the surrounding hamlets during the war years were by to days standards pretty primitive.
We had no electricity, no piped water, no access to a telephone, and toilet facilities were prehistoric. Lighting after dark was provided by “tilly lamps” fuelled by paraffin. Entertainment by radio (BBC 1-2 or 3 depending on which station gave the best reception). All of the dwellings I remember consisted of a main living room which also doubled as the head of family’s bedroom, plus two other bedrooms with two, sometimes three beds (for large families) and a scullery. Cooking was done on a wood and coal fired range in the living room, the dining table was also in the same room.
Water for drinking, washing and cooking was drawn from a communal well by hand pump and taken indoors in a bucket. Bathing was once a week, usually on Friday night. This was done in a large tin bath in the living room (in front of the fire in winter), kids first then off to bed so the adults could then bath in peace. The washing of clothes was done on a strict rota as there were only about four wash houses between ten to twelve families. This chore took up most of the day for the woman of the house (in my case my grandmother) and woe-be-tide you if you interfered or got in the way or wanted to eat. The clothes would be boiled in a wood fired boiler using “soap flakes” then rinsed in a tub of cold water then put through the wringer (mangle) and taken to the drying green. Each household had it’s own dedicated bit of green next to which was the shed for storing coal, wood etc. and attached to that was the “lavvy” (out door dry toilet), also known to Australians as “the dunny”.
Winters in Stormontfield were best forgotten, wet at first making all the roads soft and muddy (only the road out to Old Scone was tarmac) followed by frost and snow for what seemed ages until spring arrived again. Summers however were brilliant. We could run around barefoot, go “dooking” (swimming), at least trying to learn to swim since there was no one to teach us. There was a spot on the river about midway between field cottages and fish ponds called “the nows” where the river bank curved slightly creating a section of slow moving water apart from the main river current. It was about three to four feet deep and was considered safe to swim in. We would jump or get thrown in and try to do a sort of “doggy paddle” keeping our heads above water and let the current take us down stream to where it was easy to get out. Then repeat the process until it was time to go home.
Spring and early summer was a good time to go egg hunting for wild birds eggs, it was not illegal then, and most boys had egg collections. We would spend the days walking up and down the ploughed and newly planted fields looking for peewits (lapwings) eggs - which were good eating- but we were careful not to take all the eggs, if some were left the bird would still sit. Other eggs that were worth hunting for were pheasant (not easy to find) and water hen and wild duck. These we would search for along the banks of the Colen burn starting from Waulkmill and working our way upstream past Colenden as far as we could go. Upstream from Colenden was a jumbled pile of stones and rocks known as “the devils pulpit” which deterred us from going any farther (it felt creepy).
THE FERRY
The ferry at Waulkmill was the only other way for people from Stormontfield to get into Perth during the week. In my families case it was in emergency only, something that couldn’t wait until Saturday, such as a visit to the doctor or dentist. The boatman was called Mr Fraser, I never knew his first name though I was friends with his son Hamish, he was just Fraser. The boat was a medium sized rowing boat able carry up to four passengers though usually it was only one or two. To call the boat from the Storry end you had to walk to the ferryman’s house and yell out “BOAT”, he didn’t take kindly to someone knocking. On the other side of the river there was a large bell which you had to keep ringing till he came out of his house and waved acknowledgement.
Fraser was on call all day from dawn till dusk though I believe he didn’t work on Sunday. A one way trip cost around three pence (old money). It was hard earned money, the river at this point is wide and there is a powerful current even in summer when the water is lower. In order to get you from A to B Fraser had to push off from the bank, point the bow upriver against the current at an angle of 45 degrees towards the opposite bank. The boat would be gripped by the current and taken downstream past our landing point until on reaching slack water near the bank. Fraser would row back up to the landing, let everyone off and row himself back to his own side. We would then walk a half mile or so to a main road near a place called Almond bank ( I think) and catch a bus into town. If the Tay was high the crossing could be hair raising and sometimes impossible.
I left Stormontfield in 1946 aged 10 when my dad was demobbed from the Black Watch, and we moved to a place called Berkley hills near Guildtown, where I finished my primary education and started secondary schooling at The Robert Douglas Memorial School in Scone. There I was reunited with my old school mates from Stormontfield, it being the nearest secondary school for the whole area SOME NAMES I REMEMBER FROM MY STORMONTFIELD DAYS
Andy Christie, Susan Christie ( my cousins).
The Wallaces - Rena, Maggie, Bob, George, Davy and their cousin Billy.
The McLiesh family - Frank, Jack, Scot, and Mary.
Hamish Fraser, Ronald McDonald, - Sheena Young,- Helena Bruce, - Margo Harrier.- John Black.- Anne Cruckshanks.
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| | | | Tales from the area - Short stories | | | | Many thanks for your e-mail and kind invitation to add to my page.
I think I'll begin by elaborating on the sanitary conditions prevailing in Stormontfield during the war years. I skipped briefly over the outside toilet facilities in my previous notes i.e. the "lavvy". This was a wooden lean-to attached to each family's coal/wood shed. The seat was a flat wooden plank with a hole in the middle (scrubbed daily with some strong smelling disinfectant), underneath was a large metal bucket. Toilet paper was cut up squares of old newspapers stuck on a nail. For people who lived at the ladeside end of the houses it could be a long walk or run if it was raining, and in the dark a torch was essential. When the bucket required emptying the lady of the house would carry it the 200 yards or so to the river bank and chuck into the Tay, rinse it in the water and return it to the lav. This was the routine for people in field cottages and I imagine the same applied to the Fish Ponds. What the families of the Boag and Colenden did with their effluent I have no idea, it never occurred to us to ask. Adjacent to this "chuck in point" was the communal midden where everything that could not be recycled was dumped on the river bank and allowed to slide gradually into the river. There was no health and safety in those days, but nobody died because of it. | | | | The Blue Burn People of my generation reading this will remember the Blue Burn. This was a discharge from an underground pipe from the bluing shed in the bleachworks. It emerged about ten yards from the river bank onto a small area of muddy sand surrounded by the riverside trees. The water from this discharge was a bright blue and still hot so it was a magnet for kids to play there, damming the flow, changing the course etc. Naturally it was forbidden to play there but because it was hidden by the trees we played anyway. All very primitive, but par for the course at the time. | | | | Memories (also on the Visitors Memories Page) | | | | I have just revisited the site and it has brought back quite a few memories. One in particular was, as a young lad along with others of my age (5 years old) we would follow and watch the Stormontfield home guard as they drilled and practised "manoeuvres" in preparation to defend "Storrie" in case of invasion. Some of the men in this troop were as far as I can remember: Captain Robinson (the boss), Joe(Josie) Strathern (Quartermaster), Joe Scrimgeor, Jock Wallace, Jim Scott, Dave Scott, Will Christie (my grandfather), and others I can't recall. Someone had had a brainwave and with the help of the local blacksmith (Tam Page) the team had devised a highly mobile mortar gun; a three foot long tube swivel mounted on a set of pram wheels with bicycle handlebars welded to the rear. The Idea was that the gunner, lying prone, could track and aim ahead of a moving target i.e. a tank, the mortar bomb would in theory hit the tank at the spot chosen by the gun aimer, a trial was held in the fields behind the bleach. The target, a large canvas screen rigged on wires stretched across the field, and attached by a series of pulleys to the bosses car, thus as the car was driven forward or backwards along the adjoining road (beside the lade), the target would move across the field from one side to the other. All went well initially the men taking turns at aiming or loading the dummy mortars, until somehow the wires became snagged and the target got too close to the bosses car, a bomb landed just a few feet from the car and the project was promptly abandoned - we kids thought it was brilliant. | | | | I remember another occasion when it was decided the defences of Storry ought to be tested. So it was arranged that the home guard from Guildtown would be the attackers. It must have been either a Saturday or Sunday so everyone could be off work. I guess the main target would have been to take and occupy the bleach works itself. The first line of defence was set up in and around the school. A bunch of us kids were watching from a distance and were told to keep out of sight as the enemy were approaching. our men knew this because a youth had cycled up the road past Colenden as far as Colen Farm and spotted them marching down the road. He came racing back to warn the defenders and all six of them took up their positions. The enemy, meanwhile, had fanned out across the field behind the church, there must have been at least a dozen of them, some had crossed the burn and over the road to the field in front of the school, then all hell broke loose. Our men opened fire (blanks of course), thunder flashes were thrown men were yelling at each other. I was close enough to hear one of the enemy who had thrown a potato shout "that's a grenade your dead" but it was thrown back with the words "it didnae go off... your dead" We kids thought this was great we were witnessing the war at first hand, we never knew who won. There was a serious side to it all as well of course, every week the men would muster at the shooting range in a barn at the corn mill near Waulkmill and practice with live ammunition. I can remember helping my grandad--Will Christie--to take his rifle apart, clean it, oil it, and put it together again. Happy days Peter Soutar | | |
| | | | I've been trawling through the "storrie" web site again and came across the article about the settling pond in front of boag cottages. I remember once when it was decided to drain the pond and clear out all the rubbish that had been accumulated over the years. I can't recall the date but I must have been about six or seven (circa 1942) The inflow from the St. Martins burn was blocked off and the pond allowed to drain off into the lade. When the water had drained out revealing a small sea of mud plus a few cart loads of domestic "throw away's" e.g. Bits of broken prams, bikes, the odd car tire and crockery. Everyone available was drafted in to give a hand including kids who were big enough to help. The domestic rubbish was removed first, some of it had to be groped for in gloop ( kids loved this part getting all muddied up legitimately). A lot of the mud was then shovelled out onto the bank around the pond thus making it deeper. There was an added bonus to this. As with the mud it seemed like hundreds of eels were being thrown up onto the banks. Some were no doubt scooped up to be eaten, others slithered off to the nearby burn, it's not easy to catch and hold on to an eel. After the clearing was finished the pond was allowed to refill. There was one other occasion when the lade itself was drained. I believe it was to allow maintenance or repair to the huge turbines underneath the bleach works. All the side sluices all the way up the lade were opened thus allowing the water to drain off back into the Tay reducing the flow to a trickle by the time it reached the works. The engineers could then lower themselves down to the turbines and fix the problem. It took two or three days before it was up and running again and the lade filled up again. Peter Soutar | | | I hadn't realized just how much I had written. My memory of those days is quite good but ask me what I did yesterday and I haven't a clue.
The article from Steven Godfrey mentioning his grandfather Hugh Godfrey triggered a memory although I could be wrong, The man I am thinking of was middle aged and lived at Boag cottages. He had one leg amputated just above the knee and got around using one of those Y shaped wooden crutches which tuck under the arm. He often used to come down to the the bleach field (located behind the works) to watch us play football. He would start off just watching then decide to act as linesman then get so involved he'd take over as referee. He could belt up and down the pitch as fast as any of us. On occasion he just had to join in and have a kick at the ball, using his crutch he would snaffle the ball off someone and then placing his stump through the Y of the crutch and then balancing on the crutch he'd kick the ball and gallop off after it to have another go. He thoroughly enjoyed those games with us exhausting as they must have been. I hope I have got the right name for this gentleman if not then I'm sure some one can correct me.
One of these days/years, my number two son Robert is threatening to take me back along with his son to see where the old place once stood so you never know one day we might meet. Meanwhile kind regards | | | photos | | | | | | | |  | |
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