debodacious63 | (no subject)

I am currently reading Margaret Bennett's Scottish Customs From the Cradle to the Grave which I am finding absolutely riveting, not least because I am too busy to cope with extended works of fiction at the moment. Because it's an anthology of old writing on folk traditions, combined with interviews with the elderly, it's perfect for dipping into. My favourite superstition so far is that, if a boy and girl were baptised together, the girl had to go first, otherwise she would grow up with a beard, and the boy would never grow whiskers. And I love the thought of bundling, which would have suited me as a method of courtship, because I so love being cosy in bed on cold winter's nights. I'm intrigued by how pagan the Scots were until really very recently, because I have always thought of Scotland as a pretty puritan nation from a religious POV and I would have thought the old customs would have been suppressed.

So I think my next read will have to be a good general Scottish history, because I am realising my woeful ignorance. The boys come home from school and talk about their history lessons and I only know the major bits like the '45 and the Clearances, and precious little else. And I also want to know more about Celtic mythology, and much more about Scottish current affairs. By assiduous reading of the local paper I am beginning to get a handle on, and a fledgeling opinion about, Skye and Highland issues. However, I am at the depressing stage of discovering how little I know. And I don't like feeling uninformed - it makes me feel exposed. Like I could say something stupid, without realising the depths of my dimwittery.

Usually we rely on the lovely Murdo MacLeod or his dad Hector, for briefing us. Murdo was inherited with the hotel - he is at agricultural college in Edinburgh but he works for us in the hols, as well as running his croft. He was born and bred in our village, and when I first met him I thought he was gauche and shy. I was so wrong. He is very sturdy, with uncompromisingly cropped black hair , and specs, and it had just not occurred to me that the boy would be a babe magnet, but he blooming well is is. And he is fantastic with our guests, and does the work of 3 people at once, and we all love him to bits. Next weekend he is heading south to visit the valley girl and the earwig, and to stay with my parents, so he is truly becoming one of the family.

And Hector is equally fab - he is also a crofter, and a carpenter/builder/oddjobber/fount of all wisdom. And he has not one single good word to say about anyone. If we mention having met one of the locals and liking them Hector will say "I always thought he was a cantankerous wee sod myself". But he is so kind, and leaps to our aid whenever we have a crisis, so I am starting to suspect it is all A Front. His wife, Chrissie, has the most gorgeous Hebridean accent; I could listen to her forever.