Part 4: The Best Years of Our Lives (Page 3 of 3)

NICE LITTLE EARNERS

From the age of about 10, there were certain seasonal activities which provided an opportunity for supplementing pocket money - in fact all fell in the latter part of the year. The first was acting as one of the beaters for the shooting parties of Sir Ian Forbes-Leith and his guests at Fyvie Castle, still privately owned at that time. The target was usually the grouse and pheasant reared on the estate for the purpose, but I remember coming face to face with a small deer in the woods between the Turriff road and the River Ythan, and at least one drive that was dedicating to reducing the fox population. It could be hard work, trying to maintain a line while struggling through waist-deep wet heather, but a good packed lunch was served, and at my age the day's pay of 10 shillings was substantial. Although that equates to 50p in modern sterling, it was of course worth a great deal more in buying power - the adult weekly wage for many jobs would have been around £5.

The same daily rate was paid for a day's tattie-picking. That was hard work, bent double or kneeling in the mud, and obliged to keep up the pace before the digger finished the length of the field and came round again. But there would often be a substantial hot lunch served at the farmhouse, and the smell of the fresh turned earth on a frosty morning remains a positive memory. Best of all - the return home to a hot bath!

The last "little earner" only lasted for a few days in the run-up to Christmas - turkey plucking in the sheds behind Giles' shop. Adults from the village passed the whole day up to their knees in feathers, while we youngsters joined in for a couple of hours after school. The birds were killed as required, and passed up through a hatch still kicking in their death throes. The trick was to work as quickly as possible while the carcase was still warm, but above all without tearing the skin. The going rate was 6d (=2 ½ p) for a hen and 9d for a cock, but the employer had invented the rather clever ruse of paying, not in cash, but in vouchers which could only be spent …. in his shop! Not a problem, as long as parents were willing to swap the vouchers for cash.

I must just mention Bob-a-Job, although the money was of course earned for the Cub/Scout funds, not for the individual. But it again sheds light on the safety of life for the young, in that nobody doubted the wisdom of allowing 9 year olds to go round knocking on doors and offering to do anything for a shilling.

THE BEAUTIFUL GAME

Football was the main, if not the only, organised sport. At the lowest participant level, there was an impromptu game on one of the fields on most summer evenings. The lads who possessed boots wore them proudly, shinguards were a decided asset, but otherwise no particular strip distinguished the "teams". At the spectator level, Fyvie FC played both league and cup matches throughout the summer months, on the pitch between the Ythan and the Aberdeen road. (Except for one season in 1956, when the pitch had to be reseeded, and matches were played in the field on the other side of the road, opposite the Bank. This placed the touchline much closer to the river, and balls frequently had to be retrieved from the current.)

Fishing balls out of the river was not the only difference between Fyvie football and Old Trafford. It was above all a very physical game; although played in summer the ground was heavy at the best of times, boots had the weight and the dimensions of small coal scuttles, and as the evening dew soaked into the leather ball it became so heavy that heading it was an act of bravery or folly. The skills of Ronaldo would have been entirely wasted! But because these amateur players had day jobs on farm or in forest, they were strong and fit, despite in many cases enjoying a half-time cigarette (which also doesn't happen at Old Trafford!)

There were traces of a disused curling rink, but I never saw it used, and (oddly) a quoits court. One or two men of the village travelled to Turriff to play or watch cricket.

EVENTS AND MEMORIES

Two big royal events occurred during my early years at Fyvie. In early 1952 there was the death of King George VI, although to be honest it was an event with little meaning at my age. The Coronation in June 1953 was much more memorable, with an extra school holiday, a party in a marquee on the football field, and various mementos including the silver crown coin, and the pencil-box filled with squares of chocolate.

Mention of the chocolate box reminds me of the fact that in my early years in Fyvie chocolate and sweets were still "on ration", with a limited number of points per family each week - doubtless a difficult concept for the youngsters of today.

It's the 31st January, 1953, and I'm glued to the window watching the destructive power of an exceptional storm of wind. Branches and even whole trees are crashing to the ground, and we are to learn later that hundreds upon hundreds of trees have been destroyed all over the Fyvie Estate. For many years to come local residents were allowed by the estate to collect the smaller bits of fallen timber for firewood. The larger scale clearing operation was helped by importing gangs of Polish woodcutters, who I think were refugees displaced by the War. The evidence of their work remained for a long time in giant piles of sawdust, which we then transformed into another form of playground.

And while on the subject of the Castle and dramatic events, there is a bit of a mystery to resolve. It's a dark October evening, about 1955, and an orange glow in the sky has brought us through the woods to the Castle, where fire has broken out in one of the wings. Fire appliances and hoses everywhere, castle staff and estate workers carrying out paintings and other valuables, and significant damage before the fire is brought under control. The problem is, that although that is my very clear juvenile memory, I have been unable to find any confirmation of the date, or even of the event. Can anyone shed light? (Later: update on www.arthur-groves.com/wpfyvie)

There was one other dramatic fire, and I am certain of this one, in the Chicken Rearing Sheds of James Mackie & Co. About 1951 I think, with many hundreds of birds lost.

Talking of the Mackie shop, If you are interested in the social history of Fyvie, and would like to go back a few more generations, be sure to read "Diary of a Cannie Man" written by Adam Mackie in the early part of the 19th Century. His chronicle of daily life as farmer and general merchant is both detailed and amusing, and is at least as different from 1950 as 1950 is from today.

Lots more could be said on the subject of young life, and the more I think about it the more episodes come to mind. For the more formal Youth Organisations, my own recollections are of the Cubs and Scouts, but as far as I know the equivalent Brownies and Guides existed for the girls. But there was so much to do in the fields and woods that most play was on an informal level. I have mentioned elsewhere that children were allowed to take more risks, at least in comparison with modern times. Certainly, it was never thought necessary for children of any age to be supervised when playing outside, and even walking home alone in the dark from Cubs was quite normal. We may have been close to sensible limits when sledging or karting down the Hospital brae at some speed  - there was a risk of oncoming traffic even in those days.

There were also sad countryside times. It's the summer of 1954, and much of the pleasure of crossing the fields or playing in the woods is ruined by the sight of hundreds of rabbits suffering from the dreaded myxomatosis. There are the corpses and also the barely moving and swollen bodies of the infected living. A horrible sight, and one which put me off eating rabbit for many years.

Organised picnics were organised by both School and Sunday School, with large numbers of children and parents transported by bus to Cullen, or Newburgh, or Cruden Bay for a day of sandcastles, sack racing and sandwiches. I can remember bright sunshine and torrential rain in equal proportions!

In some ways, these events and memories seem very recent, but so much has changed that in reality it was a different age, a different world. Whether it was a better age, or a harsher world …….. is another and wider subject.
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Please send all your corrections and additions, and any news of old classmates, to arthur-groves@orange.fr. It will be a pleasure to hear from you, and a pleasure, one day, to come again to Fyvie.