Hi I thought it worthwhile pointing out that Carpet Bowls is a totally different sport to Indoor Bowls, which has gained in popularity over the last 20 years. Carpet Bowls have no bias and are played on long boards with rules very similar to curling. For many years a Scotland-England international match was played annually, alternatively at Dumfries and Bolton. England never won a match and the games were abandoned in the 1950s. I still have my grandfathers bowls, which he played with in these international matches on several occasions. He won them in a tournament at Borgue in 1920 and they have a silver engraved medal attached. Best wishes Ian A McClumpha Need help with your Scottish Family History research? Let Imchad Ancestry assist you. Please look at our website: www.imchad.freeola.com -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of Mary Forsyth Sent: 16 December 2010 23:12 To: Ken Parker Cc: [email protected] Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] carpet bools Hi Ken   That was quite a cycle from Elrig to Kirkcowan. As you say nearly all the villages had their carpet bowling clubs. I can remember the name Cronie from New Luce.  My husbands parents were from there.   When you mentioned the bowling club in Elrig being in the school I wondered if your dad remembered a family called Stewart who lived opposite the school.  My grandfather (Samuel) was a blacksmith.  My mum would have been 84 this year.   Mary Forsyth --- On Thu, 16/12/10, Ken Parker <[email protected]> wrote: From: Ken Parker <[email protected]> Subject: [WIG LIST] carpet bools To: [email protected] Date: Thursday, 16 December, 2010, 5:19 Hello all,              My dad David Birch Parker, who will be 80 in January, was telling me yesterday of an occasion when he and his father cycled from Elrig in Mochrum Parish to Kirkcowan for an indoor bools competition. This was on the 2nd January and they arrived back home at 2 am on the 3rd. He also mentioned a time when there was a competition at Glenluce, which was won by a man named A. Cronie. This man was from New Luce and won many carpet bool competitions. To get back to Elrig that night, a McLean's taxi was hired from Port William, driven by a chap called Rafferty. My Dad sat on his fathers knee in the front passenger seat and in the back were eight or so Merry Boolers. The driver had been a truck driver in the WW2 desert campaign and my dad says he drove like he was in the desert, at great speed and all over the place. My dad and grandad were let out at the foot of the Sheugh and walked home to Elrig from there. There were Carpet Bowl Clubs in many villages, Elrig, Mochrum, Port William all had one. The one at Elrig was in the School. At one time a house a few doors up from the school house was used. Ken Parker ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

Ahbsolootly Maisie - fancing leaving "Memory" oot. I was half asleep at the keyboard last night when I wrote that. And besides, the only time I have eaten Black Pudding (at Bunessan, Isle of Mull) it wasn't very dry --- it was floating in half an inch of liquid fat! Ooooogh! But the "venison" was dry ... as chips (Aussie expression meaning wood chips for lighting the fire). Hi Donald, thought it might be you doon there. Thanks for the offer. We are staying with friends at Emu Point - and bringing them as guests. See you there. Cheers all ...David ----- Original Message ----- From: "Maisie Egger" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]>; "Bishop David Murray" <[email protected]> Sent: Friday, December 17, 2010 2:56 AM Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] Tatties, Hokers etc > ...but David, you're going to refer to it as the Immortal MEMORY! noo, > aren't ye? > > I gave a "fantastic" "Memory" one year (swiped it from somebody else's > notes --- not copyright) about how much Robert Burns's writings meant to > President Abraham Lincoln, who all the time carried around a small volume > of his works to which he could refer. The story goes that he could recite > Burns at will. He was also equally impressed with Shakespeare. > ------------------------------------------------ > > Further on a previous comment about the diet of the Scots vs the Irish, I > hope listers don't mind the inclusion of this snippet taken from Frank > McCourt's book "Angela's Ashes" about his childhood in Limerick. An Irish > friend here where I live also came from Limerick and said he wrote a load > of rubbish as "nobody" lived that way. I should have quoted: "I would > rather have eyes that cannot see; ears that cannot hear; lips that cannot > speak, than a heart that cannot love" - (Robert Tizon) Surely, if even > just a mere handful lived like this in Limerick this woman should have had > compassion. Surely the Irish who came over as transient agricultural > workers, earning "whatever" might have met with more understanding about > their economic plight among their own "class" when they came to work the > fields in Wigtownshire. I hope so. > > Anyway, here's the excerpt from McCourt's book on the family's Christmas > fare. If his mother had stuck to potatoes, or had even known how to make > haggis from the offal "leftovers" with oats, maybe three of the children > would not have died (malnutrition likely). Frank McCourt is a contemporary > writer, and so the events occurred during the period when he was born in > 1930 (he died 2009) in USA. The family returned to Ireland when he was a > small boy, and then in his later teens he decided to return to the USA. > As a teacher in the USA he would live light years away from his horribly > deprived upbringing as a child in Limerick. > ------------------------------------------------- > > > SNIPPET: NY-born author/teacher Frank McCOURT writes about one Christmas > when the family returned to Ireland to live in his memoir "Angela's Ashes" > (1996). > > "Mam takes Malachy and me to the St. Vincent de Paul Society to stand in > the queue and see if there's any chance of getting something for the > Christmas dinner -- a goose or a ham, but the man says everyone in > Limerick is desperate this Christmas. He gives her a docket for groceries > at McGrath's shop and another one for the butcher. No goose says the > butcher, no ham. No fancy items when you bring the docket from the St. > Vincent de Paul. What you can have now, missus, is black pudding and tripe > or a sheep's head or a nice pig's head. No harm in a pig's head, missus, > plenty of meat and children love it, slice that cheek, slather it with > mustard and you're in heaven, though I suppose they wouldn't have the > likes of that in America where they're mad for the steak and all classes > of poultry, flying, walking or swimming itself. He tells Mam, no she can't > have boiled bacon or sausages and if she has any sense she'll take the > pig's head before they're all gone the way the poor people of Limerick are > clamoring for them. Mam says the pig's head isn't right for Christmas and > he says 'tis more than the Holy Family had in that cold stable in > Bethlehem long ago. You wouldn't find them complaining if someone offered > them a nice fat pig's head. No, they wouldn't complain, says Mam, but > they'd never eat a pig's head. They were Jewish .... The butcher takes the > pig's head off a shelf ... wraps the head in newspaper, hands it to Mam > and says, Happy Christmas. Then he wraps up some sausages and tells her, > Take these sausages for your breakfast on Christmas Day. Mam says, Oh, I > can't afford sausages, and he says, Am I asking you for money? Am I? Takes > these sausages. They might help make up for the lack of a goose or a ham. > Sure, you don't to do that, says Mam. I know that, missus. If I had to do > it, I wouldn't. Mam says she has a pain in her back, that I'll have to > carry the pig's head. I hold it against my chest but it's damp and when > the newspaper begins to fall away everyone can see the head. Mam says, I'm > ashamed of me life that the world should know we're having pig's head for > Christmas. Boys from Leamy's National School see me and they point and > laugh. Aw, Gawd, look at Frankie McCourt an' his pig's snout. Is that what > the Yanks ate for Christmas dinner, Frankie? One calls to another, Hey, > Christy, do you know how to ate a pig's head? No, I don't, Paddy. Grab him > by the ears an' chew the face offa him. And Christy says, Hey, Paddy, do > you know the only part of the pig the McCourts don't ate? No, I don't > Christy. The only part they don't ate is the oink. After a few streets the > newspaper is gone altogether and everyone can see the pig's head. His nose > is flat against my chest and pointing up at my chin and I fell sorry for > him because he's dead and the world is laughing at him. My sister and two > brothers are dead, too, but if anyone laughed at them I'd hit them with a > rock." > > Check out the Ireland GenWeb website at: http://www.irelandgenweb.com/y, > ------------------------------------------------------- > > [WIG LIST] Tatties, Hokers etc > > > Gosh, I thought I got it tough, when as a 11/12 year old one of my > Saturday jobs was to remove really dirty tatties covered in mud and grit > from large hessian sacks and weigh them on a balance into 7 and 14 pound > brown paper bags for sale in my Dad and Mum's Grocery shop in Swanbourne, > Western Australia. I hated the feel of the tatties on my hands --- it was > like scrubbing my hands with a dry floor scrubbing brush. Somehow I > stalled on the job and caused the work to last for ages, when, if I had > had any wisdom at all at the time, I would have gie'in the job laldy and > got it over and done with. > > I did this in a building clad and roofed with rusty flat-iron in century > and above century temperatures --- in contrast to you poor folk trudging > around freezing ields. > > Janet and I are off to Albany (Southern West Aust) for the Caledonian > Society Burns Supper on 23rd January. Got the honour of delivering The > Immortal Speech, which is a bit daunting. St George's Cathedral in Perth > (West Australia) is having a Burns Supper, too, which I will miss and > which is a bit of a turn-up for the English/Aussie Church. Robbie Burns > would be delighted to hear of this I reckon, gi'en his stance on that > issue! > > Cheers ... David Murray, > > > >

Hi Ken   That was quite a cycle from Elrig to Kirkcowan. As you say nearly all the villages had their carpet bowling clubs. I can remember the name Cronie from New Luce.  My husbands parents were from there.   When you mentioned the bowling club in Elrig being in the school I wondered if your dad remembered a family called Stewart who lived opposite the school.  My grandfather (Samuel) was a blacksmith.  My mum would have been 84 this year.   Mary Forsyth --- On Thu, 16/12/10, Ken Parker <[email protected]> wrote: From: Ken Parker <[email protected]> Subject: [WIG LIST] carpet bools To: [email protected] Date: Thursday, 16 December, 2010, 5:19 Hello all,              My dad David Birch Parker, who will be 80 in January, was telling me yesterday of an occasion when he and his father cycled from Elrig in Mochrum Parish to Kirkcowan for an indoor bools competition. This was on the 2nd January and they arrived back home at 2 am on the 3rd. He also mentioned a time when there was a competition at Glenluce, which was won by a man named A. Cronie. This man was from New Luce and won many carpet bool competitions. To get back to Elrig that night, a McLean's taxi was hired from Port William, driven by a chap called Rafferty. My Dad sat on his fathers knee in the front passenger seat and in the back were eight or so Merry Boolers. The driver had been a truck driver in the WW2 desert campaign and my dad says he drove like he was in the desert, at great speed and all over the place. My dad and grandad were let out at the foot of the Sheugh and walked home to Elrig from there. There were Carpet Bowl Clubs in many villages, Elrig, Mochrum, Port William all had one. The one at Elrig was in the School. At one time a house a few doors up from the school house was used. Ken Parker ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

Gosh, I thought I got it tough, when as a 11/12 year old one of my Saturday jobs was to remove really dirty tatties covered in mud and grit from large hessian sacks and weigh them on a balance into 7 and 14 pound brown paper bags for sale in my Dad and Mum's Grocery shop in Swanbourne, Western Australia. I hated the feel of the tatties on my hands --- it was like scrubbing my hands with a dry floor scrubbing brush. Somehow I stalled on the job and caused the work to last for ages, when, if I had had any wisdom at all at the time, I would have gie'in the job laldy and got it over and done with. I did this in a building clad and roofed with rusty flat-iron in century and above century temperatures --- in contrast to you poor folk trudging around freezing fields. Janet and I are off to Albany (Southern West Aust) for the Caledonian Society Burns Supper on 23rd January. Got the honour of delivering The Immortal Speech, which is a bit daunting. St George's Cathedral in Perth (West Australia) is having a Burns Supper, too, which I will miss and which is a bit of a turn-up for the English/Aussie Church. Robbie Burns would be delighted to hear of this I reckon, gi'en his stance on that issue! Cheers ... David Murray,

This is a Message Board Post that is gatewayed to this mailing list. Author: jeorysarah Surnames: Jorie/geory/jeory Classification: queries Message Board URL: http://boards.rootsweb.com/localities.britisles.scotland.wig.general/2092/mb.ashx Message Board Post: Hello James Jorie/Geory, born approx 1780, was listed in the 1841 census as a schoolmaster. He died in 1845. As his history has become a bit of a stumbling block I thought I would change direction and try to find out more about his professional career. Can anyone point me in the right direction? Many thanks & merry christmas Sarah Important Note: The author of this message may not be subscribed to this list. If you would like to reply to them, please click on the Message Board URL link above and respond on the board.

...but David, you're going to refer to it as the Immortal MEMORY! noo, aren't ye? I gave a "fantastic" "Memory" one year (swiped it from somebody else's notes --- not copyright) about how much Robert Burns's writings meant to President Abraham Lincoln, who all the time carried around a small volume of his works to which he could refer. The story goes that he could recite Burns at will. He was also equally impressed with Shakespeare. ------------------------------------------------ Further on a previous comment about the diet of the Scots vs the Irish, I hope listers don't mind the inclusion of this snippet taken from Frank McCourt's book "Angela's Ashes" about his childhood in Limerick. An Irish friend here where I live also came from Limerick and said he wrote a load of rubbish as "nobody" lived that way. I should have quoted: "I would rather have eyes that cannot see; ears that cannot hear; lips that cannot speak, than a heart that cannot love" - (Robert Tizon) Surely, if even just a mere handful lived like this in Limerick this woman should have had compassion. Surely the Irish who came over as transient agricultural workers, earning "whatever" might have met with more understanding about their economic plight among their own "class" when they came to work the fields in Wigtownshire. I hope so. Anyway, here's the excerpt from McCourt's book on the family's Christmas fare. If his mother had stuck to potatoes, or had even known how to make haggis from the offal "leftovers" with oats, maybe three of the children would not have died (malnutrition likely). Frank McCourt is a contemporary writer, and so the events occurred during the period when he was born in 1930 (he died 2009) in USA. The family returned to Ireland when he was a small boy, and then in his later teens he decided to return to the USA. As a teacher in the USA he would live light years away from his horribly deprived upbringing as a child in Limerick. ------------------------------------------------- SNIPPET: NY-born author/teacher Frank McCOURT writes about one Christmas when the family returned to Ireland to live in his memoir "Angela's Ashes" (1996). "Mam takes Malachy and me to the St. Vincent de Paul Society to stand in the queue and see if there's any chance of getting something for the Christmas dinner -- a goose or a ham, but the man says everyone in Limerick is desperate this Christmas. He gives her a docket for groceries at McGrath's shop and another one for the butcher. No goose says the butcher, no ham. No fancy items when you bring the docket from the St. Vincent de Paul. What you can have now, missus, is black pudding and tripe or a sheep's head or a nice pig's head. No harm in a pig's head, missus, plenty of meat and children love it, slice that cheek, slather it with mustard and you're in heaven, though I suppose they wouldn't have the likes of that in America where they're mad for the steak and all classes of poultry, flying, walking or swimming itself. He tells Mam, no she can't have boiled bacon or sausages and if she has any sense she'll take the pig's head before they're all gone the way the poor people of Limerick are clamoring for them. Mam says the pig's head isn't right for Christmas and he says 'tis more than the Holy Family had in that cold stable in Bethlehem long ago. You wouldn't find them complaining if someone offered them a nice fat pig's head. No, they wouldn't complain, says Mam, but they'd never eat a pig's head. They were Jewish .... The butcher takes the pig's head off a shelf ... wraps the head in newspaper, hands it to Mam and says, Happy Christmas. Then he wraps up some sausages and tells her, Take these sausages for your breakfast on Christmas Day. Mam says, Oh, I can't afford sausages, and he says, Am I asking you for money? Am I? Takes these sausages. They might help make up for the lack of a goose or a ham. Sure, you don't to do that, says Mam. I know that, missus. If I had to do it, I wouldn't. Mam says she has a pain in her back, that I'll have to carry the pig's head. I hold it against my chest but it's damp and when the newspaper begins to fall away everyone can see the head. Mam says, I'm ashamed of me life that the world should know we're having pig's head for Christmas. Boys from Leamy's National School see me and they point and laugh. Aw, Gawd, look at Frankie McCourt an' his pig's snout. Is that what the Yanks ate for Christmas dinner, Frankie? One calls to another, Hey, Christy, do you know how to ate a pig's head? No, I don't, Paddy. Grab him by the ears an' chew the face offa him. And Christy says, Hey, Paddy, do you know the only part of the pig the McCourts don't ate? No, I don't Christy. The only part they don't ate is the oink. After a few streets the newspaper is gone altogether and everyone can see the pig's head. His nose is flat against my chest and pointing up at my chin and I fell sorry for him because he's dead and the world is laughing at him. My sister and two brothers are dead, too, but if anyone laughed at them I'd hit them with a rock." Check out the Ireland GenWeb website at: http://www.irelandgenweb.com/y, ------------------------------------------------------- [WIG LIST] Tatties, Hokers etc Gosh, I thought I got it tough, when as a 11/12 year old one of my Saturday jobs was to remove really dirty tatties covered in mud and grit from large hessian sacks and weigh them on a balance into 7 and 14 pound brown paper bags for sale in my Dad and Mum's Grocery shop in Swanbourne, Western Australia. I hated the feel of the tatties on my hands --- it was like scrubbing my hands with a dry floor scrubbing brush. Somehow I stalled on the job and caused the work to last for ages, when, if I had had any wisdom at all at the time, I would have gie'in the job laldy and got it over and done with. I did this in a building clad and roofed with rusty flat-iron in century and above century temperatures --- in contrast to you poor folk trudging around freezing ields. Janet and I are off to Albany (Southern West Aust) for the Caledonian Society Burns Supper on 23rd January. Got the honour of delivering The Immortal Speech, which is a bit daunting. St George's Cathedral in Perth (West Australia) is having a Burns Supper, too, which I will miss and which is a bit of a turn-up for the English/Aussie Church. Robbie Burns would be delighted to hear of this I reckon, gi'en his stance on that issue! Cheers ... David Murray,

Oh please! Don't lets have a long discussion on black pudding which is not a pudding at all. Tattie scones are yummy but black pudding is positively disgusting, at least the sort that was dished up with monotonous regularity at one boarding school I attended just outside Carlisle. Just the thought of it brings back all the old memories. I think we smothered the black pudding with tinned marmalade to reduce the dryness and hide the flavour. Ugh! Give me a snagger on the barbie any day. Donald Main -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of Diana Henry Sent: 16 December 2010 03:11 To: Joan Whitney Cc: [email protected] Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] RE TATTIE SCONS Dear Listers http://www.elizabethan-era.org.uk/black-pudding-old-recipe.htm Here is a clue!! Olde English but probably basically the same.  I can't really bring myself to type it out.  It is sausage - like and then cut into slices.  You can also get white pudding, and haggis can also be sliced and fried. Merry Christmas to every one and may we have a more peaceful New Year of 2011 Diana ________________________________ From: Joan Whitney <[email protected]> To: Diana Henry <[email protected]> Sent: Wed, December 15, 2010 6:06:27 PM Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] RE TATTIE SCONS please, for those of us who don't have a clue, what IS black pudding?  My grandfather was born in Strenraer in 1888 and died in Oregon, USA when I was 8 years old.  Nothing much Scottish trickled down- although we did have pasty three or four times a month and is still one of my favorites altho grandmother made it with ----ground beef.  Thanks. Joan ----- Original Message ----- From: "Diana Henry" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Wednesday, December 15, 2010 3:15 AM Subject: [WIG LIST] RE TATTIE SCONS > As Sam and Linda remind me you can also fry them up next day to have with eggs, > bacon, black pudding etc etc. > Am just awa' to mak some richt the noo. > Diana > > > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to >[email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the >quotes in the subject and the body of the message > ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

Hello all, My dad David Birch Parker, who will be 80 in January, was telling me yesterday of an occasion when he and his father cycled from Elrig in Mochrum Parish to Kirkcowan for an indoor bools competition. This was on the 2nd January and they arrived back home at 2 am on the 3rd. He also mentioned a time when there was a competition at Glenluce, which was won by a man named A. Cronie. This man was from New Luce and won many carpet bool competitions. To get back to Elrig that night, a McLean's taxi was hired from Port William, driven by a chap called Rafferty. My Dad sat on his fathers knee in the front passenger seat and in the back were eight or so Merry Boolers. The driver had been a truck driver in the WW2 desert campaign and my dad says he drove like he was in the desert, at great speed and all over the place. My dad and grandad were let out at the foot of the Sheugh and walked home to Elrig from there. There were Carpet Bowl Clubs in many villages, Elrig, Mochrum, Port William all had one. The one at Elrig was in the School. At one time a house a few doors up from the school house was used. Ken Parker

I lived for a while in Brisbane and used to be asked how to spell part of my address which was Wooloowin. Try saying double-u, double o, ell, double-o, double-u, i, n. When I came back to UK, married and later lived not that far from Shropshire (which has the "new town" of Telford) and was asked to give my surname I said Telford and it would be said: no, not where you live, I want your name... (The town was named after Thomas Telford, County Surveyor, civil engineer). The place in Scotland I have problems with is Lesmahagow but even worse, a place in Coventry: Stycheval. Can't imagine the origins of those names, at least the Australian ones sound like Aboriginal. Betty

Forwarded from the ever colorful Maisie :-) This is a very interesting site that covers the diet of Scotland as far back as the 1500s to the present day. More research is needed, but it seems that the Scot had a better diet than the Irish, even at the time of the Highland Clearances and most certainly during the Irish Famine. There seemed to be less reliance on the potato and more on grains...purritch (porridge) comes to mind. My Edinburgh-born but Motherwell, Lanarkshire reared grandfather peculiarly (to me) would "store" his porridge in a drawer and divvy it up in squares to eat. His brother preferred to eat his porridge by dipping a big spoonful into a glass of milk. He also liked to drink his tea out of a saucer, much to my mother's disgust! Neither brother was a "yahoo," they just had certain notions about how they liked to eat their purritch! I can now record such idiosyncrasies in my Family Tree genealogy notes as the characters involved are no longer of this world. <http://www.practicallyedible.com/edible.nsf/pages/scottishfood>http://www.practicallyedible.com/edible.nsf/pages/scottishfood

I have just been delighted, and taken by surprise, by a considerable trove of audio recordings from Wigtownshire accessible on the web. Diana had mentioned www.tobarandualchais.co.uk to us, and hidden in there is a mass of great stuff. Don't be put off by clicking on either the map or on "Wigtownshire", which will return a big zero. However, if you go to the Parish List and try Glasserton, Kirkinner, Kirkmaiden, Mochrum or Portpatrick, you will be rewarded. Try Stranraer, and for some reason, you won't. But under Kirkmaiden there is a wealth of reminiscences, mainly it appears on Port Logan, that kept me listening for quite a while. I have included this site on the Links page of the Wigtownshire Pages, at the end of the Wigtownshire section. Crawford.

Dear Listers http://www.elizabethan-era.org.uk/black-pudding-old-recipe.htm Here is a clue!! Olde English but probably basically the same.  I can't really bring myself to type it out.  It is sausage - like and then cut into slices.  You can also get white pudding, and haggis can also be sliced and fried. Merry Christmas to every one and may we have a more peaceful New Year of 2011 Diana ________________________________ From: Joan Whitney <[email protected]> To: Diana Henry <[email protected]> Sent: Wed, December 15, 2010 6:06:27 PM Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] RE TATTIE SCONS please, for those of us who don't have a clue, what IS black pudding?  My grandfather was born in Strenraer in 1888 and died in Oregon, USA when I was 8 years old.  Nothing much Scottish trickled down- although we did have pasty three or four times a month and is still one of my favorites altho grandmother made it with ----ground beef.  Thanks. Joan ----- Original Message ----- From: "Diana Henry" <[email protected]> To: <[email protected]> Sent: Wednesday, December 15, 2010 3:15 AM Subject: [WIG LIST] RE TATTIE SCONS > As Sam and Linda remind me you can also fry them up next day to have with eggs, > bacon, black pudding etc etc. > Am just awa' to mak some richt the noo. > Diana > > > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to >[email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the >quotes in the subject and the body of the message >

Does bring a smile! I am 3rd generation Australian with Scottish heritage and my husband is an English born Australian of Scottish parents from Wigtown and we too are residents of BC Canada. After living in Canada for near on 10 years we still find a whole lot of different twists and turns in both the language and gastronomical delights of this country. We have both learned to be cautious with our vowel sounds but other things still draw a blank stare. Our Australian "howyadoen" leaves people baffled and our McMurray surname spelled with "double R" is a hoot- most people interpret that as WR which of course comes out as McMuwray - still makes me giggle. As for the Saturday night meal - we too go for bacon and eggs but add a few good barbied snags with perogies on the side - multiculturalism at its finest. Lisa McMurray Langley BC. -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of Olive McDonald Sent: Tuesday, December 14, 2010 8:56 PM To: [email protected] Subject: [WIG LIST] Tattie hokers and all that To Maisie, Jose, Len, Sam and all, Thanks for that bit of fun. I have been a bit eechie-oachie for a few weeks but now I am up to the challenge put down by my pal Maisie. For those not in the know, eechie-oachie means not quite feeling well. Someone will sort me on that one, I've no doubt. As for Maisie and my Irish accent, I think the answer to that is that I am a mongrel. Being a Canadian until the age of eleven, and then trying hard to fit in with the Minnigaff accent was quite a job. Being asked,"whaururyefaehen in one mouthful was hard to take. Translation? "Where are you from, dear?" I think 'hen' was a term of endearment. The accents in Galloway are quite fascinating to me. The Newton Stewart tongue is different from the Minnigaff tongue, and they could shout across the Cree at each other! Go a few miles to Creetown and the accent is different again. As for Kirkcudbright, I was struck dumb when I first met my cousins from Kirkcudbright with a totally different accent again. They said aipple instead of the Minnigaff epple when I said apple. Now I am living once again in Canada and having a great time with those funny Scottish sayings. I love to confuse people now. And yes, Maisie, I have often been asked if I am from Ireland. I put everyone right on the scons and scones. My favourite Saturday night meal is still bacon, egg and tattie scones. Cholesterol be darned. I'm scratching a gey aul' heid with nae bother ata' thanks to that kind of good food. Merry Christmas to everyone out there across the world, from BC, Canada; Olive. ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

Diana, Naughty of you to mention Tattie Scones because although it is presently 24 °C at 6.30 am, I am now having tattie scones, black-pudding, egg and bacon for breakfast. This is in addition to my normal breakfast of fruit. I could really do without it but the power of suggestion is so powerful when it comes to Tattie Scones. They are my all time number one favourite food; probably also because of the fantastic child-hood memories that they invoke. I always have "emergency" tattie scones and black-pudding in my freezer. One never knows when one needs a fix such as is happening this morning. My Granny in Kirkcolm used to make them on a table in front of the fire and cook them on a hot Girdle that was suspended over an open fire. This all happened in what we would call today the lounge or front room. My Granny was a wizard the way the scones just appeared with a few deft hand movements. I was allowed to mash the potatoes for her by using a gadget that was like a huge Garlic crushing device that held several potatoes and the "worms" of potatoes would just squeeze out; oh what memories. Every night a large pot of potatoes was cooked up for that evening's meal and any leftover tatties were made into scones the next day. There was nothing better than straight off the girdle and straight into the mouth. A little fried egg would fit nicely inside a rolled up Tattie Scone. When I was but a very young boy apparently my uncles used to bet me money that I couldn't stuff a whole Tattie scone complete with egg inside into my mouth at one go. I am told I could manage it. Sam Heron, Brisbane, Australia ----- Original Message ----- From: "Diana Henry" Sent: Wednesday, December 15, 2010 4:31 AM Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] Re Tattie Hokers Enough enough, never mind the tattie howkers, how about the tattie scones? (scon not scone) add a little extra salt and some plain flour (all purpose?) to the left over mashed tatties, roll out on a floured board, cut into a round and then 4 triangles, cook both sides on a hot girdle (not griddle) and serve with butter - fandabidozy. Diana

As Sam and Linda remind me you can also fry them up next day to have with eggs, bacon, black pudding etc etc. Am just awa' to mak some richt the noo. Diana

Kristy, Hoker is pronounced the same as in broker as in Stock-broker. Howker is pronounced the same way that one would say, - "How" are you today? - "How" with "ker" added. As with most of the old words we used they were from an older time in Scotland and were not necessarily a corruption of a current word. They were words as such in their own right. To "hoke' as a verb can mean to dig out or excavate. Hoke as a noun can mean the act of digging, excavation. In reality the Tattie Hokers didn't actually dig the potatoes out of the ground a device pulled by a tractor brought them to the surface and the Tattie Hokers collected them from the surface and put them in bags to be collected. The only hoking that they would do would be to kick the surface with their feet to see if any tatties were hidden from them. I remember when we were little our parents would get a farmer's permission after the potato fields had been dealt with for us as a family to go through the fields and collect for our own use the potatoes that had been missed by the Tattie- hokers. We always managed to collect plenty. Sam ----- Original Message ----- From: "Kristy Gravlin" <[email protected]> To: "Maisie Egger" <[email protected]>; "WIG LIST" <[email protected]> Sent: Tuesday, December 14, 2010 12:54 PM Subject: Re: [WIG LIST] Fw: "Tattie Howking" - Ireland>Scotland, Potato Harvest > As usual, all of you there are being most generous about giving those of > us > here (in this place and/or in this time) an education about what the life > of > our ancestors was like. I'm really enjoying this series...and wondering if > the reason my ggg-grandparents went to Scotland from Ireland. > > I have one more question to throw in...tell me about the word "howking" > please. Can you give me an indication of how it pronounced? It appears to > be > a corruption of some word...but what one? And what does it mean? > > The closest I can come to a tattie howking story is this: When I was two, > I > managed to slip and fall down the last two steps of the stairway in the > front hall. (I doubt that I ever went higher at that time since it would > take only those two steps to get to the roomy and "safe" landing.) In the > process I broke my arm. Mother settled me and went to find my father. She > came back with the news that they would take me to the doctor...as soon as > Dad had picked up all the potatoes he had already dug. It was a "very > long" > wait while I sat and felt sorry for myself and a bit peeved that my father > thought the tatties were more important than I was. > > Eventually I got old enough to understand that letting those potatoes burn > in the sun would not have been a good Scottish thing to do at all. > > Again, thank you all for the stories you tell. It helps me share the old > country in a way that my grandfather couldn't do for me. He was only 2 > when > he left there, and my great-grandparents both died before I was born. > Kristy in Illinois

Len, your comments on digging tatties whilst at school in Scotland mirror my own experience whilst a boy at a lousy decrepit private boarding prep school near Hawick in the late fifties and very early sixties. We all had small wicker baskets which we emptied into various hessian sacks. It was hard, dirty and unpleasant work for which we were paid nowt but the soon to be bankrupt school received "free" tatties. An ancient tractor and equipment dug up the tatties and scattered them in a rough row and some of us had the job of sifting the stones out although when the farmer or non-working teachers backs were turned we quickly jammed the stones in the bags as a mark of protest. Later on when it was really cold we were back in the fields picking the sprouts, often when covered in frost which tended to feeze our fingers to the bone. We hated that more than the tattie howking and I believe our parents never new what we did. I wonder if there is an expression for sprout howking because I can't recall one? Donald Main -----Original Message----- From: [email protected] [mailto:[email protected]] On Behalf Of leonard miller logan Sent: 15 December 2010 11:26 To: [email protected] Subject: [WIG LIST] Re Tattie Hokers Hi' Listers, on yer Sam, your desciption fits the Wigtownshire dialogue perfectly, 'a' hae niver heard onybody in Wigtownshire say ' Howking' when referring to somebody diggin' Tatties. The word hoke means to dig with fork or spade in the present tense,Hok'n or Hoked is the past tense, and these words were generally reserved for the groups of contractors who come over from Ireland to Harvest the Tatties. [ as apt'ly put by Sam Heron ) The whole business was a war time measure to overcome the shortage of labour. Schools in rural areas of Scotland, and some in the cities and larger towns were involved in this scheme, to help the farmers, to set the Tattie Harvest and and lift the Harvest when ready. I was one of them, an' a more back break'n' job you would be hard pressed to find. We referred to this occupation as Tattie settin' an' Tattie liftin'. We were paired up and set some twonty yairds to lift and sort, we gethered into a wicker basket, the big to medium size tatties went into one sack and the smaller ones into another, later they would be wal'd for seed etc. There was no payment of money, the farmer usually agreed to a denner or twa o' tatties, at the en' o' the day, an' maist folks carried a wee poke for such, the farmer didnae like you stealin' his tattie bags. Weel Listers, I hae had my tippence worth, an' nae doot there wul be ithers wantin' tae dae the same. Happy Christmas to all. Len. ------------------------------- To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to [email protected] with the word 'unsubscribe' without the quotes in the subject and the body of the message

To Maisie, Jose, Len, Sam and all, Thanks for that bit of fun. I have been a bit eechie-oachie for a few weeks but now I am up to the challenge put down by my pal Maisie. For those not in the know, eechie-oachie means not quite feeling well. Someone will sort me on that one, I've no doubt. As for Maisie and my Irish accent, I think the answer to that is that I am a mongrel. Being a Canadian until the age of eleven, and then trying hard to fit in with the Minnigaff accent was quite a job. Being asked,"whaururyefaehen in one mouthful was hard to take. Translation? "Where are you from, dear?" I think 'hen' was a term of endearment. The accents in Galloway are quite fascinating to me. The Newton Stewart tongue is different from the Minnigaff tongue, and they could shout across the Cree at each other! Go a few miles to Creetown and the accent is different again. As for Kirkcudbright, I was struck dumb when I first met my cousins from Kirkcudbright with a totally different accent again. They said aipple instead of the Minnigaff epple when I said apple. Now I am living once again in Canada and having a great time with those funny Scottish sayings. I love to confuse people now. And yes, Maisie, I have often been asked if I am from Ireland. I put everyone right on the scons and scones. My favourite Saturday night meal is still bacon, egg and tattie scones. Cholesterol be darned. I'm scratching a gey aul' heid with nae bother ata' thanks to that kind of good food. Merry Christmas to everyone out there across the world, from BC, Canada; Olive.

Diana, My Mom made the most amazing potato scones (always pronounced scon!) She used to cook them as you described then pile them on a plate and we would eat them after frying them in lard or dripping. (No cooking oil in those days!) They were delicious! We didn't eat them with butter. No doubt the Health and Safety brigade would have something to say about all that fat! Mom's no longer with us and although I've had a go at making them myself they are definitely not up to Mom's standard! A little more practice I think to perfect them. I found a recipe in a very old cookery book for Irish potato bread (fadge) which appears to be the same thing. Now my mouth is watering thinking about Mom's potato scons! Linda (In a very cold and icy Lincolnshire)

Hi' Listers, on yer Sam, your desciption fits the Wigtownshire dialogue perfectly, 'a' hae niver heard onybody in Wigtownshire say ' Howking' when referring to somebody diggin' Tatties. The word hoke means to dig with fork or spade in the present tense,Hok'n or Hoked is the past tense, and these words were generally reserved for the groups of contractors who come over from Ireland to Harvest the Tatties. [ as apt'ly put by Sam Heron ) The whole business was a war time measure to overcome the shortage of labour. Schools in rural areas of Scotland, and some in the cities and larger towns were involved in this scheme, to help the farmers, to set the Tattie Harvest and and lift the Harvest when ready. I was one of them, an' a more back break'n' job you would be hard pressed to find. We referred to this occupation as Tattie settin' an' Tattie liftin'. We were paired up and set some twonty yairds to lift and sort, we gethered into a wicker basket, the big to medium size tatties went into one sack and the smaller ones into another, later they would be wal'd for seed etc. There was no payment of money, the farmer usually agreed to a denner or twa o' tatties, at the en' o' the day, an' maist folks carried a wee poke for such, the farmer didnae like you stealin' his tattie bags. Weel Listers, I hae had my tippence worth, an' nae doot there wul be ithers wantin' tae dae the same. Happy Christmas to all. Len.