I never appreciated the words of the old song my mother used to sing when I was a child, until I became an exile. Now when I hear that song I get a lump in my throat and a tear in my eye Of course, I'm feeling a bit delicate right now as my 94 year old father died recently in Scotland. He was a true gentleman and a wonderful father and I'll miss him. I love Canada and have never regretted making it my home, but as long as I still have family living in Scotland it will always be "hame" to me. I still have my two sisters there so it will hopefully be hame for many, many years yet.
During the more than thirty years I've lived in Canada I've been regaled with stories of how wonderful and beautiful Scotland is by Canadians and Americans who have visited there. I'm ashamed to admit that they seemed to know more about the country of my birth than than I did. When sadly, my mother passed away in 1990 my husband and I decided to go over and spend some time with my father. With a car loaned to us by a dear Scottish friend and dad in tow, we toured around finding out if Scotland was as nice as we'd been told. It most certainly was.
Our first four days had to be spent in England (Yes, my ex husband is English ) watching the British Open Golf Tournament at Royal Birkdale. It was freezing cold, windy and rainy. Although it was a wonderful experience, I'll quite happy to watch it on TV in future.
Scotland, on the other hand was in the grip of a heatwave. A Scottish "heatwave" is anything between 75 and 85 degrees and is rarer than hens teeth. We only had one day of rain for the next three weeks.
We visited Loch Ness but Nessie was away on holiday. We went all over Rob Roy country, Loch Lomond, Balmaha and Rowardennen, We went to Stirling Castle, Edinburgh Castle, and spent time at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival cultural events. We visited my dads old boyhood haunts where he used to go hiking, places on the coast like Largs, Helensburgh and Ayr,. (the home of Robbie Burns). Every place we visited was completely different, and they were all beautiful in their own way. We saw bluebells, purple and white heather, buttercups and daises, wild rhodedendrums growing along country roads and everywhere green, green, green. We visited and stayed in the lovely little village of Buchlyvie, just outside of Stirling, where they filmed the movie Rob Roy. We found much to our regret that my father had no sense of distance. His idea of "Juist doon the road" was at least three or four miles and we had to struggle to keep up with the 85 year old. My husband kept asking him if we should take a taxi back to the car as he was worried it was too much for him! What a joke, we both knew who it was too much for. Dad exhausted us and we loved every minute of it.. Although my husband and I have since parted, I'm sure he remembers that trip with fondness too.
It was a very nostalgic trip for me as some of the places we visited had been places we'd gone with the family as children. Usually we'd go away for two weeks to the seaside in July and it seemed to me it was always raining. My parents would rent deck chairs and sit on the beach wrapped in blankets while my sisters and I built sand castles. When people rented deck chairs for the day they usually sat in them for the whole day come hell or high water, and Scottish weather is a little of both. My dad was the only one ever brave enough to venture into the water. He loved swimming, he loved any outdoor sport. Mom wasn't the least bit outdoorsy but she was a great mom. She had a beautiful singing voice and was always teaching us new songs. Consequently my whole family love to sing. When I was growing up we didn't rely on TV or computer games to entertain us, we learned to entertain ourselves and singing, poetry and stories were all part of that entertainment. Scots all over the world love a good "singsong" or as North Americans call it, a singalong. When my family visited me in Canada we had many a singsong with Canadian and American friends who joined in with gusto.
There's a place in Scotland called the Trossachs not far from Loch Lomond where a lone piper stands on a hill all during tourist season and plays. You've never really heard the pipes until you hear them played that way. Listening to the pipe music over a Loch will also give me goosebumps. If you've never seen the Edinburgh Military Tattoo at the Castle you don't know what you're missing. It stays with you forever.
Enough about Edinburgh, I'm a Glaswiegian through and through and I'm proud to let you know that Glasgow is now the Cultural Capital of Scotland. Gone are the grimy soot covered edifices and in their place are beautiful sand blasted architectural works of art. Buildings that were hand carved by master stone masons and can never be replaced are being appreciated by new generations. She still has her slums but Glasgow can hold her own with other major cities throughout the world because what makes her so special is the warmth, friendliness, humor and wit of her people.
I've enjoyed sharing my memories of Scotland with you. For a while I felt as though I was there once more and could almost hear the voices of my mother and father singing this familiar song::
Just a wee doch an doris
Just a wee drap that's a
Just a wee doch an doris
Before you gang awa
There's a wee wifey waitin
In a wee But 'n Ben
If you can say
"It's a braw bricht moonlicht nicht"
Then you're a richt ye ken
Loosely translated:: Have another drink before you go home to the wife waiting in your small country cottage. And if you can still talk without slurring you're not too drunk.
