You never saw such elaborate preparations for the visit. Granda whitewashed the outside of the house and painted the gutters and downspouts a shiny black. Granny and Mam washed all the bed linens and put them out on the heid o' the brae. With a gweed drocht they were dry by denner time. Peter Reid came ower fae Buckpool and papered the hale hoose. Every press wis teemed oot an' a'thin' in them wis washed and polished afore bein' put back.
Dad had arranged tae bide at hame for the 2 weeks o' the visit, even tho' it meant finding a replacement crewmember and lost wages. I had to ask for the afternoon off school on the day that Wayne and Sybil arrived. They were to come on the afternoon train from Aberdeen and we all dressed in our Sunday clothes and walked to the station.
Granny wore the black straw hat with a black silk rose pinned to the brim, that she'd bought for Grace Kelly's wedding in 1956. A neighbour had invited us to watch the televised ceremony and Granny said she couldn't go to a wedding without a hat. She had worn it, along with her best peenie, made by Adam's-in-Finechty, as she watched Grace Kelly become Princess Grace.
We lined up on the platform to meet the train from Aberdeen. Dad was very excited to see Wayne and roared a welcome at him in broad Buckie, all the while shaking his hand as if he would shake it off. "Hi, you guys!" Sybil greeted us, before turning to make sure all of their luggage was off the train "We're nae guys! We're fowk!" I replied and got "the look" from Mam.
Dad and Granda started to gather up the luggage and Mam looked black affrontit! Naebody hid thocht tae order Jimmy Mayne's taxi! An' here wis a lot mair luggage than Dad's sea baggie. "It's nae far!" Dad said."An' ye've sitten' a hale day on the trainie. The wak hame'll mak ye swak!" We all carried something, and we struggled, stopping every few minutes to change hands and shift the weight.
Sybil's black stiletto heels slipped on the cobblestones. "That's feel sheen ye've on ma quine. Ye'll brak yer lig!" At least Dad was observant, if not sympathetic. The wind, fae the nor'ard filled our visitors' nostrils with the smells of a working fishing port.
Dad pointed out the sights; the gutting and curing yards, brine for the herring barrels, the kippering sheds. Lorries, belching diesel smoke, passed with melting ice dripping from their loads of fish boxes. Wayne and Sybil understood not a word of Dad's description, and Sybil was trachled enough. The wind not only did damage to her lacquered, bouffant hairdo, but blew her polka dot dress up aroond her heid, and neither she nor anyone else had a free hand to help her. Dad's explanation, "Ach! It's the Gab O' Mey! Fit kin ye expec' this time o' eer?" was little consolation.
"That's Tappies! See the boatie ready for launchin' wi' a' the fluggies on't!" Dad pointed back towards Thompson's Shipyard as we toiled up the Bowling Green brae, but Wayne and Sybil didn't respond. Buffeted by the strong wind that made our eyes water and noses dreep, we all followed silently behind Dad as he led us to the ancestral seat in the Catbow.
Oor Margrit 26 October 2002
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