Aunt Margaret ( known as Maggie ) was married to John Montgomerie ( known as Jonnie ).They had two daughters, Margaret ( three years older than me ) and Wilma ( my age-she will be 70 in Feb ).
Their farm in Ayrshire was five miles from Cumnock and fourteen from Ayr. My mother and my Aunt Margeret were second cousins on the Mc Culloch side. Considering I was a fairly distant relative it was generous of them to have me stay for twelve summers.
The Muir ,as the farm was called, was about 150 acres and they kept a heard of 40 milking
cows. In winter they they looked after sheep which came down from higher ground of a relatives farm.
From the farm you got magnificent sunsets as the sun dipped behind the Island of Arran. On a clear day you could see to the north Ben Lomond.
Aunt Margaret told me that during the War there were anti aircraft guns on the hill up behind the farmhouse.On that night in March 1941 they stood outside and could see an orange glow in the sky : that was Glasgow going up in flames at the hands of the Luftwaffe.
Uncle John was 6ft 2 in tall .He was a quiet reserved man-din't say much but was a man of absolute integrity.In all the years I knew him I never heard him say an unkind word about anyone.
" He was a verray parfit gentil knyght "
Aunt Margaret was the driving force : intelligent, strong willed opinionated but with a heart of gold. You did not argue with her ! I remember she once told me how she resented leaving school at 14. However, for her generation that was the norm.Girls were meant to leave early, help on the farm and then get married.
As Aunt Margaret & Uncle John got up at five o'clock to do the milking I felt I had to do the same.I was just a nuisance as I would end up falling asleep in the cows mangers. A deal was imposed whereby if I got up early ( before seven ) I would have to go to bed early ie before Wilma.
From the farm you got magnificent sunsets as the sun dipped behind the Island of Arran. On a clear day you could see to the north Ben Lomond.
Aunt Margaret told me that during the War there were anti aircraft guns on the hill up behind the farmhouse.On that night in March 1941 they stood outside and could see an orange glow in the sky : that was Glasgow going up in flames at the hands of the Luftwaffe.
Uncle John was 6ft 2 in tall .He was a quiet reserved man-din't say much but was a man of absolute integrity.In all the years I knew him I never heard him say an unkind word about anyone.
" He was a verray parfit gentil knyght "
Aunt Margaret was the driving force : intelligent, strong willed opinionated but with a heart of gold. You did not argue with her ! I remember she once told me how she resented leaving school at 14. However, for her generation that was the norm.Girls were meant to leave early, help on the farm and then get married.
As Aunt Margaret & Uncle John got up at five o'clock to do the milking I felt I had to do the same.I was just a nuisance as I would end up falling asleep in the cows mangers. A deal was imposed whereby if I got up early ( before seven ) I would have to go to bed early ie before Wilma.
It was that first summer aged seven that I broke my left arm.This was an equestrian event organised by Margaret.We took Star & Lilly (two Clydesdale cart horses ) out of their stalls and into an adjacent field. Margeret organised her tribe of six into two teams.Being the eldest she was the big chief.
We were too small to get on the horses so they were manoeuvred alongside a hay rick. The drill was then to climb up the hay rick and jump onto their backs;three to each horse. There was a slight drizzle and their backs were slippery. I was in the front on Star with Ann & Jessica Gibb behind me. On the word GO from Margaret we raced down the field.
Half way down the field Ann started to fall off. In front I clutched Star's mane and Ann clutched my waist but to no avail. I was first to hit the ground followed by Ann on top of me followed by Jessica. Snap my arm broke and the bone fraagment punctured my skin.I don't recall any pain just a sensation I had broken my arm.Margaret took me to find her mother in the dairy. Aunt Margaret felt the bone through my arm and yelled for Jonnie.
Uncle John took me to the GP in Cumnock and thence by ambulance to the hospital in Ayr.
I remember the indignaty of an enema and then being wheeled into the operating theatre .On the table there was this enormous light over my head and a mask was thrust over my face. I woke back in the ward with my arm in plaster.
As I was the only child on the ward I was spoiled by the nurses .Perhaps it was my good looks and curly hair ! The nurses would not give me breakfast till I gave them a kiss. In those days young nurses had starched white collars and cuffs, black stockings ans rustling petticoats.
In the ward kitchen they would do a twirl and get me to check their uniforms ( seams straight ) before the fearsome matron did her rounds. Think I have had a soft spot for nurses ever since but don't tell you know who.
I had to wait ten years to get my next kiss.
After about ten days I returned to the farm.Managed to ride a bike with one arm in plaster. Weeks later the plaster came off : it was a bit of a shock to see the scar. I had to have another operation to it aged nine.
In later life when asked about my scar I have usually said it was a riding accident : sounds better than falling off a cart horse.
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