My Scottish granny

Granny

My maternal grandmother, my granny, was born 116 years ago today, in 1906, in a small village in Dumfriesshire, Scotland.

Her name was Janet; her father James was a shepherd, her mother was called Agnes; she was one of seven children. When she was twelve, she was shepherding sheep on the Ardnamurchan Peninsula, then went into service at the age of fourteen. A lot of her life was spent moving around for work, and one of the greatest joys to her was when she and my grandpa were able to buy their own house - all saved up for and paid - and settle in one place, a small village in the Stewartry. She met my grandpa when she was working at the Salutation Inn in Carsphairn, the village where he was born. They married in 1928 and had six children.

I have never known a woman who worked so hard. She had a hard upbringing with little money; a shepherd back then was paid twice a year. Twice a year her father would get roaring drunk, and the big wooden kist would get filled half with flour, half with oats. Granny never lost her thrifty ways, they were inbuilt. She could look after sheep, milk a cow, keep hens; she sewed, knitted, baked, cooked and made more jam than anyone I've ever known. When we moved to the same village, granny helped us butcher sheep and lambs on an old door held up on two trestles in our back yard; she didn't have room for a storeroom or freezer in her house, but we did - rows of shelving and two large chest freezers were kept in an outdoor room. Granny would do her jam thing and haul it up the road and fill the shelves; she prepared countless pounds of fruit for the freezer and bottling - rhubarb, gooseberries, blackcurrants, apples, raspberries - all homegrown. Naturally she was a big fan of brambles and between her and us we picked enough to last through the whole year until the next harvest.

She had one of those lovely formica kitchen units with a fold down front on which she did her baking; the cupboard above held flour and sugar, and there was a picture of the Queen pinned to the inside of the left hand door. Her big cupboard was full of tins; a lot of them had their labels missing - those were the days when you collected labels and sent them off to exchange for money off coupons, or something for the house - sponges, dusters, spoons. She entered every competition and raffle that she could. My mother sent them a Christmas cake in a tin when we still lived in London - it was still there when she moved out of that house in the late 70s.

She saved string, thread, buttons, paper bags; she washed out and re-used polythene bags. I can still see her now, wiping out the inside of the eggshell with her crooked finger to get out every drop of egg white.

There was a lovely range in her front room where she baked scones, cakes, bannocks, and heated soup. Later on they got an electric cooker, but the coal range was kept working.

She enjoyed a game of Scrabble and Kings and Queens; she watched snooker and Saturday afternoon wrestling on the television; she only drank Babycham, and that was only ever one at New Year; she was fit and strong, in body and in mind, but a gentle good natured soul. I don't recall her ever raising her voice to anyone.

She wore a floral nylon overall, and when she gained weight, she undid the sideseams and inserted strips from an older worn out one. When she lost the weight, the strips were removed, the seams sewn back up and the strips put away for future use. She did sides-to-middle sheets and made pillowcases out of flour sacks. She was a great Rural (S.W.R.I.) member for many years, baking, helping out and entering the competitions. She came second in the "best turned ankle" competition.

There are many stories I can tell about her and grandpa of thriftiness, hard work, her meeting J.M. Barrie when she was in service at Caerlaverock, he was head gardener for the Duke of Norfolk at Kinharvie, tales of second sight, falling down the well.............

I learned a lot from her and spent a lot of time with her, these lessons learned intentionally and just absorbed, left me in very good stead for when I got my first home. She loved the letters I regularly wrote to her about my garden, cooking, the children, and ofcourse the jam making. I owe her a lot.

So, when I read on blogs and elsewhere, watch on Youtube about people who throw the word "frugal" around and think that what they're doing is frugal, I shake my head and think you ain't got nothing on my granny..................

I'm sure that wherever she is now, she's shaking her head too.