The Horsieman

by Ducan Williamson

  But it was the summertime, and I’d kindled this big fire. Katie and me sat and cracked all night till the daylight came in. The next day she and I walked up to the hospital. And here Sandy’s sitting with a great big poultice on the back of his neck, a tattie poultice. The doctor told her Sandy had took four or five boils at the same time. And instead of coming out, they worked their way into his neck. When Sandy saw us he wouldn’t stay in, he wanted out. So we took him and went to the station. His things still weren’t there. Whatever happened to them, they didn’t arrive. We waited till about six or seven o’clock at night. Another train came in.

  The stationmaster tellt us, ‘It’s in that middle truck.’ It was parked right in the centre of the track junction! There was railway on each side, and the trucks were parked for the weekend right in the middle. There’s no way in the world we could have got that barrow out, because there was no loading bank to reach the trucks. But we had to! We managed to open the door of that truck, and we had some job. It was as high as a roof to get at it. Sandy was cursing and he was swearing and this neck of his was swelled out. But with all our strength and God’s help we got the barrow out. We managed to get it on the road, and we went back to that quarry.

  I put up the tent. We stayed there for three or four days till Sandy felt better. But he never went back to the doctor again. Then old Katie said she wanted to go to the games at Lonach. So we set sail for Lonach Gatherings.

  And Sandy was always telling me, ‘I’m fed up, brother, wi this pram. I’m gaunnae try and get two-three shillings and get a wee pony.’ Every day he was was going to get money. But this pony was never coming – I was the pony – as long as he had me. He was always saying, ‘Ach, we’ll no be long noo, we’ll get a wee pony. I ken where tae get them, I ken a man in the next toon who’ll have a pony for me and a wee float.’ He had two-three pound to buy it, but he never got round to it as long as he had me to pull this handcart. I wasn’t getting fed up. I liked it.

  I really liked Aberdeenshire, I liked the travellers there an awful lot. Their stories and cracks were good, and I liked the way they spoke. And they liked the way I spoke because I had the Highland tongue. There was a lot of Gaelic and Highland talk in Argyllshire, and I’d picked it up being around the country weans in the village and at school. I met a lot of the Aberdeenshire folk years later, the Whytes, Stewarts, Higgins and MacConnachies, and the Kelbies. I came to ken all the Aberdeenshire travellers, the MacAlisters and a big family of Lindsays. The Aberdeenshire folk were always nice, different travellers from the local ones about Perthshire and Angus altogether. Everybody was made welcome, ‘Come on in, laddie, and sit doon and gie us yir news, man! Tell us wha ye come fae and tell us yir crack,’

  They all kept horses, some of them had old cars at that time too. But they kept good horses and big carts. They never kept any floats. They had spring carts with high double rails on the sides. And they used to go to the games, travel there and sell heather. They collected rags and rabbit skins, rags and woollens. And they sold a lot of dishes. Most everyone you saw sold crockery. They had cups and plates and bowls of all kinds and went round the farms. They sent to the factories, and there were places in Aberdeen where you could get them. With their carts they hawked these dishes. And they gathered sheep’s wool. And then they swapped and dealed among themselves.

  In all these wee towns in Aberdeenshire travellers met, and swapped and dealed. It was a great place for horses. The Aberdeenshire travellers were good to deal with and I liked to see them swapping and dealing in a camping place. And the funny thing was, you could go in, maybe about fifteen or sixteen families in the one camp. Seven, ten or twelve men around the fire having a swap and deal through each other. And you’d never hear an angry word among them. Nah, never an angry word. They were very sociable folk to stay beside.

  I gained a lot of knowledge from these travellers and I gained a great respect from them. The main difference I found between them and the Lowland travellers – the Aberdeenshire ones were hawking travellers. Every Aberdeenshire man in the morning yoked up his horse and went off to hawk – with dishes, scrubbers, baskets, whatever he could make. And he took his wife along, and maybe a couple of kids if he didn’t have somebody to watch them. And they hawked all day, travelled for miles to make their livelihood. They weren’t interested in dealing or swapping in any way unless somebody came along and challenged them for a deal or a swap. But they always kept a good horse. The Lowland traveller depended on the horse to swap and deal, but they bought a horse and all they wanted to do was just go out, swap and get rid of it, get another one as fast as they could, have a quick turn over and make money off the beast, you see! But the Aberdeenshire traveller, whom I loved and respected and still do to this day, had a different notion and a different idea. I wouldn’t say the Aberdeenshire travellers were dealing folk, I wouldn’t call them horse dealers or horse traders. But they used the horse in a manner to make their livelihood, which seemed fit to me.

  And they tended their horse like one of the family. They had dishes and clothes pegs and baskets, they gathered rabbit skins and used the horse from day to day as a vanman would use his van. But they never forced it, never hurt it, never overdrove it. And they were kind to it, fed it and respected it. I said to myself, ‘If ever I get tae have a horse in ma day, I would like tae be like Aberdeenshire folk.’ And that I did in later years.

  So as I was telling you, being along with Sandy and Katie in Aberdeenshire was fine. Because I liked it, I met all these travellers and enjoyed their company, had their crack and had their tales. I had their stories. But I had heard so much about Blairgowrie all the time.

  Everyone said, ‘Ye gaun tae the berries, Sandy?’ Because everybody kent Sandy in there.

  Sandy says, ‘Nah, there nothing in the berries for me. It’s all right for young folk, ken, wants tae have a carry on.’ He said to me, ‘Hae ye made up yir mind tae go to the berries?’

  I said, ‘Aye, I’m gaun.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘me and yir Aunt Katie’s goin tae Lonach Games and fae there we’re goin up tae Braemar. It’s only a short trip ower the Devil’s Elbow and doon to Blairgowrie. So if ye stick along wi us for a while till we get up there, ye ken have a bit trip ower the hill. It’ll no tak ye, young man like you, nae mair ’n a day gaun ower the Devil’s Elbow fae Braemar, and ye gae doon. Wonst ye land in Blairgowrie, I s’pose there be plenty o yir ain folk there. And I’m sure you’ll no go wrong.

  So I said, ‘Okay, Uncle, I’ll stick along wi ye.’ So we journeyed to Donside and made our way to Lonach Highland Gatherings. Wooden flowers were all the go then.

  So old Katie said, ‘Sandy,’ it being too early for white heather, ‘the best thing I think we could dae is make plenty flooers. I’ll take them and sell them tae the folk, stand at the gate o the games.’

  He says, Wumman, naebody wants tae buy flooers – who’s gaunna carry flooers when ye’re gaun tae the games?’

  She says, ‘You make me some flooers!’ Now by this time I was a good hand at making wooden flowers. So Sandy couldn’t see how a woman standin at the gate of the games with bunches of flowers, especially wooden ones, was going to do any trade with them. He was thinking folk were there to to enjoy themselves, but he never thought about folk leaving the games and coming home.

  So I said, ‘All right, Auntie, if you want flooers, I’ll make you plenty!’ So her daughter Isa then was about thirteen. And every piece of elderberry along the way I saw, I stopped. I cut it, put it on the wee barrow.

  So Isa, she was in her bare feet most of the days, she was only a wee lump o a lassie, and she would say to me, ‘Here’s another, another bit o flooer wood.’ I pulled the barrow, stopped, cut the best bits, flung them on the top. By the time we got to near Lonach, there was an old place called Heugh-head, an old right o way road. We pulled in. But by this time I was loaded with elderberry! Sandy had an old bike and was away cycling along the road. He never did anything! I was the horse pulling the barrow.<
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  When we pulled into Heugh-head Katie says to me, ‘Dae ye see this camp, laddie?’

  I said, ‘Aye.’

  ‘Well, I remember,’ she said, ‘yir auntie, aye, we were here years ago and we camped here on this auld road. We cam tae the games the same way, it must be twenty-five year ago.’

  I said, ‘I wasnae born then.’

  ‘I know,’ she said ‘you werenae born. And she was expectin in this same place. And she had two wee babies on this auld road. Both o them died, twins, and they died here. Just because it was my sister, dinnae gae too far up the road: I want you tae just stay at the fit o the road. Jist for the rememberance’s sake.’ It was great about the travellers, they had a great respect for these things. She says, ‘It would be awfae nice if ye didnae gae too far up, jist stay at the end o the road.’

  ‘That’s fine, Auntie,’ I says.

  Now this was about the end of July, the beginning of August, you see and it was great weather. The days were hot and long, beautiful. I did all the work, put the tent up and went for sticks, kindled the fire, and we had a sip o tea. I said, ‘Auntie, I think I’ll mak some flooers.’

  So Isa said, ‘I’ll help ye.’ Aunt Katie smoked a pipe, you see. Now Sandy, you never got him to stay in about. He was always away with his bike. He wouldn’t give you a help to do anything! As long as he got on this bicycle and away, cracking to the old men, begging tobacco and begging baking soda, wandering here and there with his bicycle. He never came back till late at night. So old Katie used to tell me all these cracks and all these tales, you see, all the things I could get out of her. Talking to her about old travellers, about old stories, about the berries and how she never went, and all these things.

  So she said, ‘If youse two’s gaunna mak flooers, I’m gaunna mak a basket.’

  I said, ‘Auntie, there a basket I made a bottom for last night. I’ll jist put a couple o upsets intae it, set it for ye. Ye can fill it in.’ So I shoved a couple o upsets in and pulled them, bent them over and tied the top. And I said, ‘There’s some wee wands. Fill it. Dinnae touch auld Sandy’s wands, because I dinnae want him shoutin when he comes back.’ You durstnae touch his – he had his own stuff for making his own baskets. Ye durstnae touch this! He left the rubbish – if he left you any bits o pieces that he didn’t want, you could work with that. Even suppose Katie had to look for the living with what she made – if you touched anything belonging to him, he wasn’t pleased. So I said, ‘You pick that, Auntie, wee bits and pieces there, cast bits that he didnae want, and fill your basket.’

  She says, ‘Doll, I’m gaunna get some o that broom.’ This is the God’s honest truth! She says, ‘I’m gaunna take some o this broom.’ It was in bloom, beautiful yellow. And these long green strips of broom when it was in flower, She went and picked all the long strips. They were just like willows, but green. And after I’d set up the basket to her, she weaved and filled it with this broom. Now, Sandy had made two baskets the night before and I’d made two. And I always tied them behind the back of the cart, so’s if anybody took a notion to them they could be seen. I’d tied these four baskets and we’d just turned in at the end of the road. There was the main road passing by here. I’d put up the bow tent. And I went to the hedge and gathered all these hedgeroots, put on a big fire. And I’m sitting on a bit canvas and making wooden flowers, sliping the wood. And Katie’s sitting with the pipe, pipe stuck down the side of her mouth. There’s reek blowing from her, and if you’d got this picture, you’d have a picture for life! Isa, she’s sitting peeling the wood for me to start a new flower. When along comes this great big fancy car. Oh, I think they were Americans because they had the biggest car I ever saw! And they drove along and stopped. This young lady came out, oh, about twenty-five or thirty. And a young gentleman with her.

  She said, ‘I see you’ve some lovely baskets there. Are you selling any?’

  Now by this time Katie had finished the basket with the broom. She wasn’t very good at putting on the handle, but I’d put it on for her. And I’d hung it beside the rest. And you know how eager these traveller women were, If there was a sale on the go, she would have to get there just as fast she could, like lightning, you see! Suppose it was only for five shillings. And this Sandy never lived down till the end of his life the story I’m about to tell you. So I had made, I mean I could really make a good basket and so could Sandy. If you wanted to make a good one, you could if you put your mind to it. But if you wanted to make something sellable, just for a quick turnover, you just threw it up any way at all. But I’d made a nice couple of wee oval ones, and Sandy had made a hamper with a long handle, a bag basket. And Katie had made this thing with the broom. It was brown on the bottom, white on the sides and green the whole way up with a white top, with a white handle. It was the drollest looking basket you every saw in your life!

  And this great car had pulled up, and the young lady had said, ‘Oh, what lovely baskets! Do you sell them?’

  I said, ‘Katie, eh, bene mort; bing the mang tae the bene mort!’21 I never spoke to the folk, but I was close to them.

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ Katie says. She’s still got the pipe stuck in her mouth.

  And the man says, ‘Wait, wait, wait. Wait, wait!’ He came out and he had the camera over his neck. ‘Wait!’ Katie’s still got this pipe sticking, you know. ‘Wait,’ he says, ‘I must have a picture! Can I have a picture?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Katie, ‘take as many pictures, sir, as you want.’ And this young gentleman’s back up the road, and he’s taking all these pictures. I bet you some of these are in America yet. I would give the world if I had one of them. So, he got his pictures.

  The young lady came round and said, ‘I would love to have one of these baskets.’

  ‘Oh, my lady,’ says Katie. She was on the patter then and she tellt her all the stories. ‘Take this one, ma’m, feel it, feel it in yir hand. Look, it’s fine and strong. And feel the handle. It’s strong. Ye can carry anything on it. And my laddie, that’s my boy there – he makes all these baskets. He was disabled oot the Army.’ This was the story. She always kept the story for me, how I’d passed my grade four. I hadn’t yet at that time. But she’d say, ‘This is ma boy and he’s disabled.’ My hand was abnormal due to an injury I’d suffered at the age of five.

  ‘Oh,’ the young woman said.

  ‘This is my son and he makes all these baskets, he’s busy makin some flowers. The Army wouldnae take him because he’s got a paralysed hand.’ This was an excuse! ‘And this is all he can dae for a livin. It’s my son. This is my wee lassie,’ pointing to Nellie. All the patter! And Katie never touched her basket! She left it hanging on the back of the barrow. I think she was a wee bit ashamed of it because it looked kind o rough. She said to the woman, ‘Try that one and try this one, and try that one.’

  No, the woman, the bene mort would have nothing to do with none of my baskets or Sandy’s. She says, ‘That one there with the green on it – that’s the one I want.’ Katie’s wee basket, made with broom, bits o broom! She said, ‘I love that from my heart. I want that.’ Well, five shillings then was a great price for a basket, great price.

  ‘Oh yes, my lady,’ she says, ‘you can have that one.’

  ‘Well,’ she says, ‘what is it?’

  ‘Five shillings.’

  ‘Oh!’ The bene mort opened her bag in two seconds. ‘I’ll just take it,’ she said. ‘A pound. There you are, my dear, granny, and keep the change.’ A pound! Now a pound in these days . . . Winkie was a wee totie laddie.

  ‘Mammy dear,’ he says, ‘you’re the best basket maker in the world, Mammy. You got a pound for your basket. Wait till my daddy comes back!’ So the bene hantle22 drove away in the car, and Katie’s got this pound. Now this was messages for the next day, tobacco and fags. We didn’t need to shift the next day at all. We could stay home and work baskets. Because all Katie needed to do, go along with that pound to Heugh-head shop and she could get as much that would have done us for thre
e days. She was as happy as a lark.

  But about six o’clock he came cycling back with his bike, and the white coat on him and the reek blowing, the pipe stuck in the side of his mouth. He pulled in, had a wee handful of wands tied along the bar of the bike, ken, with two bits o string. Pulled in. And two bits o bullwood, elderberry. See, this was an excuse. He came in, put the bike against the dyke. It was a high dyke.

  He said, ‘Hello brother, eh, you got the camp up?’

  I said, ‘Aye, Uncle, I got the camp up.’ He’d never come near me. Once we got to the roadend, he just jumped on the bike and went away. I said, ‘Did ye go far?’

  ‘Ach, I was away alang,’ he says, ‘tae the other end o the toon tae see if there were any traivellers there.’

  I said, ‘Aye.’

  He said, ‘I got a wee handfu o wands.’ I was sitting making flowers. There were a big heap lying beside me. And Winkie was peeling the wands. He said, ‘Eh, was that the hornies I’d seen in the car pullin awa there?’

  I said, ‘No, that wasnae the police.’

  ‘I thocht when I’d seen the car pullin,’ he said, ‘I thought it was the police.’ You see, the police always came in and gave a check on you in these days.

  I said, ‘No, it wasnae the police. It was the bene hantle.’ Noble people, you know, gentry. I said, ‘They stopped tae buy a basket.’

  He said, ‘I ken they bocht a basket. That’s the way I took a good job at mine, I made a good job o it, brother. I bet ye it was mine!’

  I said, ‘Uncle Sandy, look, me and you cannae make a basket.’

  ‘What do ye mean,’ he said, ‘we cannae mak a basket, Rorie?’

  He always called me Rorie – after my great-grandfather. ‘What do you mean we cannae mak a basket?’

  I said, ‘We cannae make a basket, Uncle Sandy. What was the best you ever got for a basket, one o yours?’