It is already March 1961 in South West Scotland and if truth be told, in most other places as well. It is proving to be a busy start to spring nationally (usually meaning it takes place in “that London”) and internationally (or “abroad” as it is generally known).
There is much talk of the recent “snaw min” (snow moon to you), which always has the most dramatic impact on mind and body and is blamed for a great deal. Restless legs are blamed on the “snaw min” as are domestic disagreements and badly drawing fires. As fields and gardens are surveyed from backdoors, in all their late winter bleakness, something nevertheless is pulling the inhabitants to their full height. This is after months of “looking like half shut knives”, huddling by mantelpieces and hunched over blue feet attending to chilblains.
As they rub smoke filled sleepy eyes and look to the hills, they hear the last of the owls heading for bed and the first of the woodpeckers, a sure sign that winter is over – well nearly. They see hares boxing, but in truth there are not so many as there used to be. Nothing of course is as it used to be, it never is. At least the sheep are heavy looking and there is the promise of a good lambing.
Of course, the first job as anyone will tell you is “get the back end cleared up.” This involves a general, but unspecified, tidying of gardens and farmyards, ready for the spring. There is a danger of overdoing it, the back end that is, so best take it easy, after all that snaw min was tricky and now the sap is rising.
“Another slice of best Belfast ham, Mr Wylie?”
“Well, yes Mrs T, but perhaps I shouldn’t? However, go on; ‘better belly bursting than good food wasting’ as Granny Wylie used to say.”
“Aye, they grannies knew a thing or two in they days. Now what are you plannin’ tae do this mornin’ Mr Wylie? Will you be busy wi’ yer exciting Hysterical Society Business as per usual in yer shed?”
“I might do that this afternoon, when Muriel gets here from town. I’ll need an escape, I mean an inside task to keep me occupied. Although we are due to go to Lady P-F’s in the late afternoon. I thought, given the doctor’s advice to exercise a bit, that I would go outside and see to my backend, might even have a bit of a rake and bonfire; still a few leaves about. It will warm me up, especially if you were, say about 10.30ish, to bring out coffee, a scone and add a drop of winter warmer?”
“I am sure I can oblige yous, Mr W.”
“I recognise the outline, behind the glass Mrs T; it’s Bunty Haystack the well – known writer of rural murders. Better let her in or we might end up decomposing in a slurry pit in her next novel.”
“Come in Miss Haystack, Mr Wylie is at his breakfast.”
“Morning Mrs T, Mr Wylie. How the sap is rising!”
“Well, that’s good to know, Bunty but I am not sure how that affects me.”
“Jasper it affects us all, don’t you agree Mrs T?”
“If you say so ma’am. Tea?
“Umm, thanks don’t mind if I do and does that slice of Belfast ham have a name on it? If so, it would be nice between two slices of bread and some brown sauce.”
“Go on then. In all honesty, I have had enough. Now this rising sap, how does it affect me?”
“Jasper surely you feel something rising in you? Something primeval, something that is in your very bones, your very being, a longing… an aching for light and renewal.”
“Well, I am having a bit of trouble with a wisdom tooth but rinsing regularly with salty water seems to be doing the trick.”
“You disappoint me Jasper I thought you and Muriel were more spiritual.”
“More into spirits, I’d say.”
“Mrs T haven’t you a cupboard to bottom out?”
“How exactly can I help you Bunty?”
“Well pass me that sauce will you, come to think of it I thought Muriel didn’t allow bought sauces of the type of beloved by the masses.”
“She doesn’t really but if I put it in this container I get away with it. Anyway, Muriel is not here. She’ll be back from Glasgow later with Gayle. She’s at The Art School Fashion Show this morning.”
“Jolly good, but I am not sure what use fashion is in the country, all one needs are good gumboots. Muriel must be the only woman I have ever seen hill walking in slingbacks. I am surprised she has not met her death. Umm, now that’s an idea, ‘The Sling Back Slayings’. I could pretty much put that to bed in an afternoon.”
“Yes, your oeuvre has an urgency bordering on neglect.”
“Too kind Mrs T. Now I am hoping you can help me with straws, as in drinking straws. I imagine you must have them for young Gayle and her lemon squash. I need them for tapping the sap – along with a length of rubber tubing and a funnel. I don’t suppose you have those too?There is only a narrow window of opportunity for tapping the birches for sap. It is what the ancient Celts did – the sap makes a drink which cleanses the body.”
“Of what?”
“Of Winter.”
“Well, I suppose so but, Mrs T and I generally rely on a spoonful of Andrews Liver Salts, or a Beecham’s pill.”
“Oh, really! But it is all too rigorous, unnatural and not from the Ancients.”
“No, Boots at the corner of Union and Argyle Street.”
“Do I take it Jasper, you of all people, are not willing to join me in an expedition when we might follow Druidical pathways to inner cleansing.”
“Well, no not really Bunty. Muriel and I are having Lady Pentland-Firth for tea later this afternoon and I have my backend to see to.”
“Actually, I noticed you had a bit of work to do as I came up the path. I had the gardener see to my backend earlier in the week. One must keep on top of the backend you know, or it does not auger well. Especially after the snaw min we have had.”
“Indeed. Now I am sure we have some straws, but not the other things. Mrs T fetch straws and anything else Miss Haystack needs.”
“Oh, well I shall just have to see if the ironmonger has any. Thanks for the straws and I will let you have a wee taste if I find the right tree; they have to be young you know. Toodle-pip thanks for the sandwich.”
After Lunch and Before Afternoon Tea
“Coo-eee Jasper, Mrs T; we’re home. Run along Gayle, Mrs T will get you a biscuit and some squash. Yes, you can have a straw as it’s Friday.”
“Oh, hello dear did you have a nice time? Hello Gayle, a good morning at school?”
“Yes, yes, Gayle had a lovely morning and has drawn you a picture, not quite sure of what, but it’s very artistic. Here is The Herald for you J and I have one or two things in the car if you might help me? I found this bottle on the front door-step – it says “Drink Me.” Who has been round – Lewis Carol?”
“No, Bunty – she is tapping for birch sap, as it is rising just now.”
“Please Jasper, I hate to think what that involved! What is Mrs T doing? I have some Sinclair Wool for her from Smith’s and a free pattern. They really had the most fabulous display of knitting wools.”
“Marvellous dear; she is in the kitchen bottoming out.”
“Well, it has clearly been rising for you too Jasper as I see you have been busy with your backend.”
“Good to see you both. I must say, Jasper the garden is looking pretty good, considering the winter we have had. There is even a witch hazel still in bloom. My new gardener, the one with tattoos and the hooded eyelids, has just done wonders with my backend. I have never seen anyone wield his tools with such intention. I will have mulch for decades. How was the fashion show, Muriel?”
“Marvellous Patience, simply marvellous. The Glasgow School of Art, quite close to Glasgow, has some lovely looking girls who take their fun seriously. Some of their ideas are a rather extravagant and in truth a bit odd, but so creative. Headgear was the focus – there was an inverted puppy basket, a hat made out of nylon stockings and built-in sunglasses and, would you believe, a real Ascot number – a porcupine made from 2,000 drinking straws. Who would have thought drinking straws would have an alternative use?”
“How ridiculous Muriel! I hope you didn’t buy anything. It wouldn’t go well in the country, that sort of thing. One only needs good gumboots. City people are so eccentric these days. Bunty Haystack brought me round little bottle of something. She says it is just the thing after a difficult snaw min, whatever that is. Have you got any Muriel, because quite frankly this tea is ghastly. What has Mrs T done to it?”
“Jasper what do you think of this?”
“It’s a dress.”
“Spot on.”
“It doesn’t look like you.”
“No, it is for Mrs T, it’s a new wonder fabric – made by ICI, a mixture of crimplene and terylene. I would not be seen dead in it, but I thought it would do Mrs T for bottoming out. It washes so well, they say; 11 guineas in Dalys.”
“They say many things Muriel, what else have you bought?”
“Oh, I didn’t buy this. It is a present for Gayle from Sebastian, he sent it to the house in Glasgow. These dolls the latest craze in New York, Barbie and her friend is Ken. Gayle is rather captivated by them.”
“She is quite, how can I put this? … Yes.. mature! Muriel, perhaps they should provide a chaperone. I much prefer the Red Riding doll he gave her for Christmas.”
“We mustn’t hold her back, Jasper. We must encourage young Gayle in all that is new and she is likely to be the first in her class with these new dolls. Apparently, they come with different outfits – clothes for a day out, for the beach, a party and such like. The company Mattel have created a whole backstory for Barbie – born Barbara Millicent Roberts, with twin siblings Tutti and Todd and another sister called Skipper. Very inventive. I think Barbie and Ken will amuse Gayle.”
“If you say so. Anything else from town?”
“Just a lamp of distinction from Wylie & Lochhead’s and a new hat pour moi from Daly’s.”
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