Let me prepare you for what is to come, dear reader. This book has no pretensions as a serious history tome. Instead it is a conversation. Or, perhaps, better say a series of conversations: memories written on a vine leaf that provide a glimpse of life for a young lass growing up in 1950s and ‘60s Scotland.
If you haven’t met the term before, a vignette is a short descriptive sketch that depicts a single event, an observation, a setting or such. The origin of the word comes from “something that can be written on a vine leaf.” It is a free style of writing, some call it stream of consciousness writing, with each vignette standing on its own. For my purpose here, each is a wee slice of life from my memories of growing up in a small Scottish town called Kirriemuir. I have changed the names used to protect the innocent, but each vignette is a truth as I saw it. And if I ramble some, well that is okay, it is MY story.
Was it Churchill who said, “history is another country”? They had the right of it. I sit here with my laptop on my knee and access to the world a click away, far removed from that 1950s girl.
So, dear reader, pull up a stool, put your feet up, pour yourself a nice cup of tea and … enjoy! And if you need help with the odd Scots word, there is a glossary at the back.
|Old Forfarshire from wiki commons|
Kirriemuir lies in the heart of Angus, called Forfarshire in old times. It nests snugly under the Angus Glens and overlooks the fertile Valley of Strathmore.
|How to find Angus on a map of Scotland thanks to wiki commons|