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SPORTING SHOOTER - NOV

I was listening to the three old Herds in the pub. They were reminiscing about the old days – days that maintained in these hills up to the early 1960s. There were ten times as many Herds then than there are now and it was all very different. The herds walked their ‘hirsels’ twice a day; the ‘outbye’ hill farms were reached by rough stone tracks and motor cars were few and far between. People today are surprised by the size of many of these remote farm houses, out on the edge of the known world. The houses are big because most of the single lads lived in and fed with the family for their 5 daily meals – 2 breakfasts, dinner, tea and supper. The calorie intake was huge, but then so was the output for hard physical graft – out on the hills in all winds and weather – obesity was unknown. Food was of paramount importance and ‘grand meat hooses’ were greatly sought after:

“Why” said Auld Jock – “ I mind when I was a lad at Nether Cokehope, we had that much meat, that I had to shit 4 times a day.” Auld Matt and Auld Geordie nodded sagely over their glasses:

“Aye, yon was a grand meat hoose, right enough.”

“Mair’s the pity they weren’t all as canny.”

There were indeed some farmers who were notorious for their meanness. Herds were normally engaged for a year, but were likely to hook it, if they were treated badly. Auld Davey at Whiskercleugh was notoriously mean. This meant that Posty pushing his bike up the steep track was not surprised when he met the new laddie legging it down the track at high speed with his ‘box’ on his back. Posty reckoned that his job was not only to deliver the post, but also to collect all the current gossip for the delectation of the 4-ale bar in the Squire and Strumpet. He sensed a story:

“Haud on just noo” he said to the lad – “Man ye’re in an awfu’ hurry.”

“And ye’d be the same if ye worked for yon auld skinflint. Man, I tell ye there’s never a bit of meat in the house, forbye when the auld bugger can get it for nowt.”

“Aye, aye, just so, just so, but ye’re awa’ wi’out your breakfast, I doubt?”

“ Man I tell ye, we had nae meat until an auld yow dee- ed on the turnip break, then we had nowt but braxy mutton till we were fair nigh sickened of it. Then the grumfy (house pig) dee-ed and it was sausages, sausages, sausages till we were shitting bluidy sausages.” None of this surprised Posty who was well acquainted with Auld Davey’s keen grasp on economics:

“But Man, what’s happened to send ye off in such a tear and a hurry?” The Lad took off his cap and scratched his head:

“Weel, the auld wifey dee-ed last nicht and I’m no staying to see what’s for breakfast.”

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