“The Loon from the Fungle” - Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant (1885 – 1976), his autobiography

(Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant was born into a rural family “up the hill”, two miles south of Aboyne, Aberdeenshire, in 1885.  His father, Francis Grant, at the time worked as a gamekeeper for William Cunliffe Brooks, an extremely wealthy Manchester banker who was the proprietor of the Glen Taner estate between 1869 and 1900.  Once Donald started school at the age of six, he had a four-mile return journey on foot to school each day in all weathers.  He proved to have a tough, fearless and determined personality, unafraid to challenge authority when required by his perception of natural justice.  Despite the limited nature of his formal education, the university of life taught him many lessons and these, combined with his native wit and guile, brought him financial success in life.

His parents’ ambition was for him to seek his future away from the rural working class.  This aspiration took Donald to commercial life in Aberdeen and initially to an apprenticeship as a grocer.  Hard work and a desire to succeed led to early promotion in the grocery business and then to his own retail enterprise by the age of 20.  He subsequently transferred to the hotel trade some fifteen years later, firstly at Crathie on Upper Deeside and then at Fochabers, followed by Cullen, on the coast of the Moray Firth, at each stage moving on to a more prestigious establishment.  But in other ways his rural upbringing, through his involvement in farming, fishing and shooting, the latter two both legally and illegally, never left him, nor did his love of the valley of the river Dee.

Towards the end of his life (he died in 1976), Donald felt the need to set down his life experiences in written form, sometimes disjointed and with his own style of grammar and punctuation, but always with a keen eye for the pompous, the snobbish, the incompetent, the dishonest and the parsimonious, whom he ruthlessly exposed.  His tales of stalking, ghillieing and poaching are particularly insightful, and his written work generally gives a penetrating understanding of various aspects of rural life along the Dee and Spey valleys in the first half of the 20^th century.

Advancing years caught out Donald, and he never got around to properly concluding his life story.  However, the typewritten text of Donald’s account had fortuitously been passed down from his son, Donald (b 1920) to a Cullen friend, artist and musician Duncan Wood and he, in discussion with the present editor, decided that it was important that the work be preserved by being published in edited form.

Donald Grant’s own text is indicated by paragraphs, enclosed with inverted commas, and editorial notes have been added at intervals, in italic text and enclosed by brackets, to improve the reader’s understanding of the context of Donald’s tales.  Also, there has been a limited degree of editorial interference to remove glaring errors of spelling, punctuation and grammar which would have obscured the clarity of the text.  Otherwise, Donald Grant’s couthie style has been retained as an authentic component of his story.)

 

Earliest Recollections (about 1888)

“This is a short story on the life of Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant, born on 25^th Jan 1885 and dedicated to Dear Mother (Jane Duncan, b 1848) and my loving wife Annie (Annie Bain Leys, b1889), both of whom should have had angels’ wings as they both spent their lives being good and kind to their own family and also all with whom they came in contact.”

“My recollections were not very happy, for when my mother heard that my eldest brother (Lewis Duncan Grant, b 1872), who had been sent to serve his time as a lithographer, had run off and joined the army, where three weeks later he was sent to India as a full-blown private, being paid one shilling per day, my mother was very upset.”

“The next thing that remained impressed on my memory was at my eldest sister (Mary Ann Grant, b 1869) Mary Ann’s wedding in 1900, as I was too young to attend the wedding, but partook of the feast held at home at the Fungle, Glentanar.  They had rations of whisky, and some had been left in a glass.  My elder brother William (William Cunliffe Grant, b 1881) hardly nine years old and I aged five years old, thought we should have a drop on the quiet, but it sent us sneezing and coughing.  As it was a wedding day, we got off with a scolding when caught.” 

(The Fungle is an old droving road originally used to move cattle from Deeside to Tarfside and onwards to cattle markets in central Scotland in the late 18^th and early 19^th centuries.  This track was also used for the smuggling of illicit whisky from the Highlands to the Lowlands.  It passes southwards from Aboyne, initially across the land of the Glentaner estate.  The Grant family lived at The Guard, or Guard Cottage, on the Fungle track about two miles south of Aboyne between about 1871 and about 1906).

“The next event that I can remember was the peat carting, which was done by the sheep farmers, who sent men and carts, free, so my father went to help them during the sheep clipping.  As boys we looked forward to getting a ride to the moss in the empty carts.  On one occasion, a funny thing took place.  When at dinner, one of the men saw what looked like a man looking in the window, it turned out to be a lady that my brother Albert had been driving by in a horse and gig.  The horse had slipped and fell, leaving the lady hanging on the lamp bracket of the gig, by her skirt, from that day forward she always wore a tight-fitting knicker suit with hard hat.  She tended to wear outlandish clothes that attracted attention from all.  One year she attended the Aboyne Games and the crowd that gathered to see her grew so big that the police asked her to leave.  She was a lady of means, even at that time the motor car had not come into force, she rode a gent’s cycle.  When the local church minister made a rude comment about her, she attended his church and sat and read The Woman’s Weekly and the Scots Magazine during the service.”

School Days (about 1891)

“Living as we did amongst the hills we did not go to school until we were six years old, by then mother had taught us to read and write, so we did not have the baby class to join, going straight into 1 and 2 class, which were both taught by a Miss Murray.  Twelve of our family passed through Miss Murray’s hands, with the help of what they aye called pupil teachers.  These were really a bright scholar or the teacher’s pet.  My first day at school was unforgettable.  Getting out one hour earlier before the rest of the school, I was sent to the headmaster’s room to await my elder brother.”

“The then headmaster was a Rev. Andrew Gray (Church of Scotland), who not only hated anyone of other denominations, but also anyone from a poor home (the Grants were Roman Catholics).  Well, this day he punished a boy until he was sick and vomiting.  Young though I then was, I made an inner resolution that he would never get away with that if it ever happened as I grew up.  Well, after passing 1 and 2 class, I landed with a Miss Lawrence for class 3 and 4, having little trouble.  However, she was rather fond of using the strap, until two rather wild lads fell out on her after she had hit one of them around the ears.  He immediately kicked her on the shin and the other lad pulled her by the hair.  I never had any trouble, except when I absconded from school to go to the beating at Aboyne Castle, when we were sent before the head for another kind of “beating”.  However, if we went to the hotel home farm to work at the thrashing, nothing was said as Mr Sandison, the hotelkeeper, was on the Education Committee.” 

(See “Rev Andrew Gray (1834 – 1900) Aboyne Dominie for 44 Years” and “Francis Sandison (1839 - 1901), Alexander Sandison (1875 - 1926) and the Huntly Arms Hotel, Aboyne” on this blogsite).

“I amongst several others was asked not to come to school, because the school inspector was to be there, but I went and passed first class.  This upset the Rev, as he was never able to teach me anything, but I always had my homework correct thanks to the lad Cattanach, who very often did it for me.”

“Being brought up in the hills, we were hardier than most other children, thus making us good fighters so we feared no one and, as Cattanach was not very strong, he did my homework, so I made sure no one bad-used him.”

“My mother did not take these lessons as sufficient but made me do extra writing and reading at home.”

“The inevitable happened, when the Rev. called out a boy who had done nothing wrong.  I saw the one who had made the trouble, but we had a code of not telling on a classmate.  At this time, the Rev. had done away with the use of the strap, which was not brutal enough, and had resorted to a horse cane, with which he began to belabour the boy.  My resolution made on my first day at school came to me, so to the rescue I went with slate in hand and got between the two of them, telling the Rev. that he would get the slate over his head if he hit the boy again.  It took him some time to take in what was happening.  Then he began to set on me, so I began running round the school desks, which at the time were set out in the form of squares.  This went on for about 10 minutes, as he was very stout and heavy.  I ran till I thought he was out of breath I then faced up to him and offered to fight back, so he gave up and said he would get the police.  I told him I intended doing likewise.  Anyhow, next morning he tried to get me removed by force but was unsuccessful.”

“A few days later when the summer holidays were due, I played truant from school, learning to plough one day, whilst going with the baker’s and butcher’s vans on other days, until the school summer holidays began.  My brothers did not tell my parents about my absence from school, for I am sure they never knew.”

Farming in Glen Cat (about 1899)

“At the beginning of the school holidays I was “feed” (hired), as a herd loon to a man called John Grant, known as “Glennie”, at the top of Glen Cat (which is located about two miles south of The Guard along the Fungle), for the large sum of £3 for six months, being home one day per month, usually a Sunday.  I was very happy, and received £1 more for going to the peat casting, together with winning the boys race at the Aboyne games, gave me another £1, making £5 in all for the six months work.  This at that time got me a new “made to measure” suit and a pair of new boots made by the shoemaker, having some cash left over.”

“When we were at the farm, we always knew what we would get for food.  Milk was put in bowls after the 6 pm milking, then the kettle was left on the boil so you could make your own “meal brose”, taking cream from the top of the milk left in the bowl for 7 am.  Dinner was at 12 noon, consisting of potatoes and oatcakes.  Teatime was at 6 pm.  It was pottage (porridge), good milk and oatcakes.  The porridge was well boiled but before pouring we added one or two handfuls of meal.  If not eaten at once, you would have required a knife to cut it.”

“One night one of the daughters who had been at home on holiday made the porridge and when the first man began supping, he said it was “prison food”.  The next man said that “if it was put on a board, it would run a mile”.  Jean started to cry, but we assured her it was very good.”

“On Sundays we had tea after porridge, the loaf was covered with oatmeal and kept for at least a month, then a bible and a candle with a box of matches were taken out.  That was the signal that all the men rose and walked out.  Of course, I also followed.”

“One Sunday after tea, I found a stirk (bullock) on the top of a peat stack, so I ran back and told the farmer, who was reading the bible.  He came after me with a mouthful of oaths.  I asked him if he had found the oaths in the bible.  He said that “he would do me in”, so I ran over the field.  He called me back to get the beast down.  As he was removing the peats to get the animal out, however, I suggested that he remove the cross bars, which would allow the beast to walk out.  This he did, so he thought I was not a bad lad after all.”

“John Grant of Glen Cat (no relation) won lots of prizes at the local games for being the best dressed Highlander and he carried a horn which held two glasses of whisky, which, when his friends went to drink from it, they found the spirit went up instead of down which in turn made them sniff.  His boast was, when he went into Aberdeen, he always had a glass of rum, in order to keep down disease.”

Return to school (about 1899)

“I finished farm work on the October term 1899, going back to school to a new headmaster, a Mr Cruickshank, a real gentleman, who unlike the old tyrant saw that the scholars who came from a long distance off, were allowed to dry their feet in front of the fire.  The school was also left open over the lunchtime, before he came back for the afternoon session, as there was no shelter of any kind around the school, just the toilets, which had just dirt pails, which were only emptied periodically after games or market days.”  (Both the Aboyne Highland Games and the local Mart were held on the Green, adjacent to the school).

“During my time at school with Mr Cruickshank, I had a very happy time and learned a lot.  I was never in trouble, as he did like a game boy.  However, one day another boy and I had a fight and Mr Cruickshank suddenly appeared coming from his dinner.  He however just looked the other way.  Another time a boy complained about being struck.  He (Cruickshank) asked if the boy had hit back, he replied yes, where he was told that the second blow constituted a fight.” 

(Rev. Andrew Gray retired at the end of the 1899 school year and was replaced by James Cruickshank, previously teacher at the school in Kincardine O’Neil).

Serving my apprenticeship (about 1901)

“Some time later, my parents wanted me to start serving my time as a tailor, because of the small lumps on my wrists, but having seen them at work with their legs bent underneath them, it did not appeal to me.  Later two adverts appeared in the local Press, offering apprenticeships for a licensed grocer.  My father came with me to the first interview, which was with Lumsdens, a first-class grocer in Union Street (Aberdeen).  I was advised that at Lumsdens, only one man was put in front shop, whilst the others were in the back shop, making up orders, which were then taken out for delivery by horse and cart.  So, I went to Robertsons in George Street and accepted the second apprenticeship which was fixed that I serve 3 years, starting with 6 shillings (30p) per week, with an increase of 1 shilling (5p) on each succeeding year.”  (Robert Robertson, grocer, 438 George Street).

“It was also agreed that I go messages with a cart.  However, it was not explained that it was a hand cart (hurley) and that I was to be the horse.  The hours of work were very bad, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, starting 8 am to 7 pm, with dinner from 1 till 2 pm, with no break for tea.  Thursday hours were from 8 am till 9 pm, again 1 hour for dinner and ½ hour for tea.  On Saturday again start at 8 am but working till 11 pm with breaks similar to Thursday.  On Saturday when the shop closed, we had to cover up ham, cheese and butter for the weekend.  We were each given a small bag of sweets on Saturday, until the other apprentice and myself put our sweets into the publican’s letterbox, who took them back to the shop.  Sweets were then only 4d (1 1/2p) per pound, so that we were in fact only getting 1d worth.”

The Family (about 1901)

“At that time the old doctor had been attending Mother, who was bedded up for two years when, on retiring, a new Doctor came and had Mother sent into the Aberdeen Royal Infirmary.  On recovery she was sent home, however they had burnt part of her body with a leaky hot water bottle which the nurse had put in her bed.  However, we were all glad to see her on her feet again, and the burns were soon forgotten.  The old doctor also had a patient called James Cooper in bed at the same time as Mother.  He was supposed to be dying but the new Doctor soon had him on his feet.  As if to prove his betterment, he married his housekeeper and had a family.” (The “old doctor”, Dr Alexander D Keith, was the Aboyne GP for many years.  He died in 1914.)

“It seems strange at the present time to read about the children today getting free school milk, for when our cow went dry, we had to make do with treacle ale (made by fermenting treacle and water) on our porridge and a dry piece for our lunch.  As my father was a gamekeeper, my mother always made soup or broth, sometimes boiled rabbit with oatmeal stuffing which we all enjoyed.  At the weekend the usual order from the butcher was 1/6d (7 ½ p) of boiling beef and 4d (1 ½ p) worth of bones.  When my elder brother came home, he always shot a stag or hind, so we lived high on the hog, sometimes roast done with plenty of roast dripping bought from the big house cooks at 3d (1p) per lb.  It seems that this perk was part of their pay.” (Presumably this was a reference to Glen Taner House, the residence of Sir William Cunliffe Brooks.)

“Then, one of my father’s big worries was a payment to the doctor, for I had an elder brother who had an accident to his leg, when at work as a stone mason.  He was paralysed for life, with no compensation at that time, with doctors’ calls costing 10 shillings (50p) per call.  (Francis Adolphus Grant, aged 19, died of paraplegia of 6 month’s standing in 1892).  Then there was my sister Esther (Esther Magdalene Grant, 1879 - 1901) who contracted T.B. from a boyfriend, the family built an open shed beside the house, to try and help cure her, various treatments were tried, including being sent to the Isle of Wight and to a medical specialist in London, all paid for by a wealthy benefactor, but at that time there was no cure.  (The “wealthy benefactor” is likely to have been William Cunliffe Brooks).  Next, my brother Albert (Albert David Grant, 1876 – 1900), who was a taxidermist with Lord Lovat, who had gone to the Boer War (1899 – 1902), was killed in South Africa.  The first shock came when going to my lunch, on seeing the newspaper hoarding, stating, “Aboyne man killed in South Africa”.  After closing at 11.30 pm on that Saturday night, I cycled home from Aberdeen to Aboyne, a distance of 31 miles, then I had a 2-mile climb up hill to the Fungle.”

“My sister (Esther) died in November 1901 and, as my boss did not offer leave to go home, I just went and, on my return, he said nasty remarks.  However, I got my own back a few days after when his wife, who was a troublemaker, wanted her house windows cleaned as normal.  However, this time I said, “nothing doing” and simply refused.  At the same time told the boss that I had not been engaged for that job.  Also, that I had been offered a better job.  After that he was always nicer to me.”

“By this time, I had obtained better digs in Watson Street from the mother of the shop’s clerkess.  My bed mate was her son, with whom I was nearly gassed, for we used to read in bed at night.  One night his mother had turned off the gas at the meter, a common safety practice carried out in tenements at that time.  However, we had not turned off the cock in our room.  The next thing we both knew was in the morning when we were wakened by the smell of gas.  Our immediate reaction was to stick our heads out of the window.  The gas had been turned on some two hours earlier by his mother to commence the day’s work.”  (Town gas contained a significant proportion of carbon monoxide).

“My biggest worry then was going home at the weekend to ask for money to pay for lodgings, clothes, boots, etc.”

“However, as for entertainment, my brother William (Bill), who was serving his time as a joiner in Aberdeen, had a part-time job in the evenings, as a “chucker out”, (attendant), at the Palace Theatre, where he was allowed one pass per week, so I saw all the good show, including Harry Lauder, Wilfred Bodie, etc.”

(The Palace Theatre was opened on Bridge Street, Aberdeen in 1898, originally designed in an Oriental style).

The Grant family at The Guard about 1895.  Donald is the boy standing centre.

The grocery trade in Aberdeen (about 1903)

“When my apprenticeship was complete, my boss offered me the large sum of 15 shillings (75p), which I refused, telling him that I had worked for 3 years for next to nothing.  He made the excuse that both John Legge and myself had finished our apprenticeship at the same time.  However, he did raise his offer to 18 shillings (90p) per week.  One week later I replied to an advert for a licensed grocer in Torry’s (ancient suburb of Aberdeen, originally a separate settlement, on the south side of the harbour) only licensed grocer.  After being fixed up for the job, he asked my age.  On replying 18 years old, he simply replied it was a man he required not a boy.  A week later I obtained a job at the Bridge of Dee, where my employer was quite satisfied when my age had jumped to 20 years.  It proved to be a very easy job, until I caught a bad cold.  During the July holiday I attended the doctor who treated, or mistreated, me, looking down my throat and prescribing hot drinks before bedtime.  This cold persisted until September, when I fell down at work and had to go home to the Fungle, Aboyne.  The local doctor was called and, on examination, he said he would not believe that any doctor could, or would, prescribe that particular treatment.  He however prescribed to take nothing hot at any time, because both lungs were infected at the base.  He added that the doctor in Aberdeen must have thought that he had super eyesight, in that he could see to the bottom of my lungs by looking at my throat.  Anyhow the weather was good, so I had a mattress taken outside on the grass and with breathing exercises, I made a wonderful recovery.  However, I found great difficulty in finding work, did a little rabbit poaching and could get 4d (1½p) for each rabbit.”

“As my landlady in Union Grove (Aberdeen) would not hear of me taking away my trunk, I gave my address as there, obtaining a job as assistant with James Green (grocer and spirit dealer, 68 St Nicholas Street) for Christmas and the New Year.  This ended up a steady job, as the manager of the branch shop was leaving to start business on his own, causing the manager of the St Nicholas Branch to be transferred to the Argyle Place Branch.  Nearing the end of my two-week engagement, Mr Green asked if I had got fixed up with another job.  I replied saying that I had the promise of a job with the Northern Co-operative Society, but that I was not very keen on taking it.  He therefore offered me the post of foreman and fixed my pay at 22 shillings (£1.10p) per week which was top pay for the job.  Then came the question of my age once more, to which I replied 21-years-old.  He replied that it was rather young for a foreman, but as he was pleased with my part-time work, I could still have the job.  I now began to have pleasure in my job, even although it carried a good deal of responsibility, for I was in charge of a clerkess, three assistants, one cellarman and a message boy.  I was also responsible for the dressing of the windows, two of which were in St Nicholas Street, and one was in Upper Kirkgate.  This shop was taken over years later by Boots the Chemists.  As the boss did not come in until 9 am, I had the shop to open at 8 am.  Then, when the holiday period arrived, he went to live at Torphins (village about 25 miles west of Aberdeen), which meant, no half-day for me.  However, I did get off from 1 pm till 3.15 pm each weekday, so that he could catch the 3.30 pm train home.  Also, on a Saturday I was allowed off from 1 pm till 5.30 pm, in time for him to catch the 6 o’clock train.”

“This arrangement suited me fine, as at the time I could choose to go to see sports games, such as football or cricket.  Football was at the Central Park, such as Victoria v Orion, and Aulton v Aberdeen.  This pleasure however came to an end, as the manager of the branch shop left and I was asked to take over the Argyle Place Branch, which had only one assistant, whom I found very dishonest, although the boss Mr Green thought he was alright.  However, I asked for an exchange with one of the assistants from the St Nicholas Branch.  This proved a success for me, as I could get home to my digs for my dinner and tea, leaving the new assistant to look after things.”

First business venture (about 1905)

“Then a small, licensed shop at 99 Skene Street came up for sale on the market.  The owner being an old man had died.  The offer came via a Mr McKenzie, a solicitor who belonged to Braemar.  I bought it at the ripe age of 20 for £8, which I had saved up to buy a cycle.  However, my father was so pleased that he came along and paid £150 for the stock.  Mr McKenzie did not charge any fees for the transfer of ownership or for the licensed court fees.”  (Post Office Directory entry - Donald C Grant, grocer, 99 Skene Street, home 26 Allan Street).

“It was pretty hard going for a long time, just a message boy to bring my dinner, as the shop was open from 8 am until 10 pm.  A great number of my customers practised the oldest trade in the world, but many of them I found more honest than the married couples, some of them, lived in the West End (the posh end of Aberdeen), who wore fur coats and carried poodle dogs.”

Parents move to the city (about 1906)

“About 1906 my father had reached retiring age so began to look for a house in the town, for they had lived 37 years on the hill top (at Guard Cottage on the Fungle, suggesting that they had moved there in 1869) and mother would only have been once or twice down to the village (Aboyne) in all that time, with the exception of her period in hospital.  A year later my father came to the town to stay, thinking it would be easy.  However, he was mistaken, especially for a person who had lived and worked in the open air all of his life.  I found a flat for them, in what was once Rosemount House.  From there they then moved to Allan Street (no 26) and finally to Holburn Road (no 44), where mother died (in 1910).”  (Rosemount House was a small, but impressive, Georgian mansion subsequently converted to a flatted property).

Rosemount House

(Francis Lewis Grant, the father of Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant, was born in 1842 at Auchindryne, Braemar.  Like many in Braemar, the Grants were a Catholic family.  In 1869 and probably also before that year,, Francis was living at Crathie and working as a keeper or ghillie, likely on the Balmoral estate where his uncle, John Grant was head keeper to Queen Victoria.  By 1871, he had certainly moved to Aboyne.  At the census of that year, he was a ghillie and/or river constable living at Mill Cottage, which is located on the north bank of the Dee half-way between Aboyne and Kincardine O’Neil.  By the census of 1881 Francis Lewis Grant was a gamekeeper, almost certainly in the employment of William Cunliffe Brooks, the proprietor of the Glen Taner estate.  When a son was born to the Grants in 1881, he was baptised “William Cunliffe”.  From at least that year, the Grant family were living at Guard Cottage on the Glen Taner estate.)

Mill Cottage, Aboyne

“By this time the 1914 – 18 War was on, and my brother Henry (Henry E Grant b 1892) was killed on 16^th Nov 1916 at Beaumont (village in Northern France near the Somme).  Then, two weeks later, word came that another brother Allan (Allan George Grant, b 1887) had been killed also in France on the 28th. Sep 1916 whilst serving with the 8^th Battalion Canadians.  It was a great shock to my father, for after the news we had trouble with him, especially during the night, when he would think that he was not at home.  My sister Rachel (Rachel E Grant, b 1891) looked after him by day.  However, one day, whilst she was washing, he locked her out.  On another occasion, he locked me in the bedroom.  I had to call on a person from the street to come and unlock the door.”

“On another occasion he told me that he had boiled eggs for his tea.  Sure enough, the kettle was on the boil but inside was his watch.  We had moved house to Fonthill Road, as Rachel did not like the Holburn Road house, after mother died and father died there in June 1919.  I then got married leaving the house and belongings to Rachel, who had nursed both mother and father through their illnesses.  It was a good job I had got father to make out a will, especially where there were others in the family, for it saved a lot of trouble.  Although in some cases (not in Scotland) it would not have been legal had the house been in father’s name and not in mine.”

“I then got married to Annie Bain Leys (a girl born in Glenmuick in 1889) on 2^nd July 1919, at Ballater and for a time I had a furnished flat with a friend, a Mrs Stewart.”

(At the time of her marriage to Donald Grant, Annie Bain Leys was a restaurant manager of 27 Thistle Street, Aberdeen).

Inver Crathie Hotel (about 1920)

(Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant occupied this hotel, usually known as “The Inver”, though its full title was “The Invercauld Arms”, from September 1920 to July 1930, when he gave up the hotel, the hotel farm and the adjacent Ballochlaggan farm, all belonging to the Invercauld estate.  He then took possession of another property, the Grant Arms Hotel, Fochabers, near the mouth of the River Spey on the Moray Firth coast).

Invercauld Arms Hotel, Crathie

“In September of 1920. After selling off my shop I leased the Inver Crathie Hotel, arriving on my own, as young Donald had just been born.  The hotel and farm consisted of four horses, three milk cows, hens, ducks and one hotel lodger.  However, it was not long before my whole family appeared, my wife and Auntie Nell, together with their mother and, of course, young Donald.  Thus, my farming and hotel life began.  The four horses had to be disposed of and two good ones bought.  They were very expensive, a good horse costing over £100, however, I made a good buy as both horses served me well all the time I was at the Inver Hotel.”

“The crop had been badly destroyed by deer according to Mr Gordon, whilst Mr Smith, the factor, accused Gordon’s cattle for the damage.  However, the two assessors sorted that out, as far as I was concerned and from then on, I took care that the deer did little damage.  In fact, we always had venison for our own use, as it had not become fashionable as a hotel menu meal.”  (Andrew Smith was the factor on the Invercauld estate at this time).

“I had in fact shot two stags with a .303 rifle, which had been brought home from South Africa.  My first kill was a perfect shot, made while moving up the hill whilst on a poaching expedition.  The stag was on the skyline and, because of rocks, I could not get nearer for at least 500 yards.  After firing, he disappeared, so I went up and to my surprise I found the stag shot right through the heart.  My second was on the same hill at 4 am.  I had seen him the night before, so I went out at daybreak.  It was also very difficult to get a proper stance to fire from, as the only suitable place you could see the stag was from a steep slope through trees.”

“Again, I was lucky the shot had got a little left, but right in the chest, through the blood vein.  This turned out to be the finest set of horns that I had ever seen, 14 points, perfectly shaped, called Imperial (red deer with 14 antler points, evenly distributed).  The beast must have weighed about 20 stones (127 kg).  This head can be seen at the East Port Bar Linlithgow.  These incidents gave me a great deal of enjoyment in a day’s shooting and also to get back to the hills of my childhood, for at the Inver I had to protect the crops from deer, hares and rabbits.  In fact, the rabbits were the best-paying animals living off the farm.  I was also given permission by the gamekeeper to shoot the game on the hill, so save him the trouble of carrying the rabbits back to Invercauld House.”  (There is an East Port Bar in Dunfermline across the Forth and a West Port hotel in Linlithgow.  It is not known which establishment is being referred to, or if the head of antlers still resides there). 

“The hotel trade was pretty poor at that time.  Also, there was only one bus per day which carried passengers from the Ballater trains, passing the hotel to Braemar.  It also carried the Royal mail to Crathie and Braemar, to be delivered by postmen and women.”

“The Corndavon (area of Deeside, near Bridge of Gairn) postman, whilst on his round, met the Queen (now Queen Mother) with a shooting party and in conversation the Queen asked him how long it would take him to cycle from that point, he replied (“twal menits flat oot”).  The Queen thought he was foreign and asked the gamekeeper what he meant which was explained as 12 minutes as fast as he could go.”  (Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon had married the then Duke of York, later George VI, in 1923, though he had first proposed and been rejected in 1921.  The couple visited Scotland after their honeymoon.  She became Queen Elizabeth in 1936).

“I found the farm work at the hotel fairly hard work, as I did not have a ploughman.  However, I did manage to win a prize for ploughing during one of the ploughing competitions carried out locally.  I also did lunches for the ploughing matches when they were in the locality.  The meals were made in the boiler kept for making the hens’ and pigs’ meat.  The meat used in the stew was venison donated by the Balmoral and Invercauld Estates.”

“At one time there had been a school (at Aberarder, a hamlet near Crathie) with 95 pupils but that had to close. The Aberarder church (Braemar) was then used, with one female teacher, along with a small cottage.  As it became impossible to get teachers, I was given the contract to drive scholars to Crathie school, at first with a Brougham (four-wheeled, enclosed carriage), bought from Braemar Castle.  It had belonged to a Russian Princess.    I managed with one horse in the summer, however in the winter, with a closed canopy, it required two horses.  It was a well-paid job.  However, it was pretty tough in the winter, with snow and ice, also the storms.  Then it was much worse than it is on today’s roads.  The snow was sometimes 18 inches deep (and we could travel) only when the snow plough came to the rescue, so that the mail got through.  However, on some occasions the mail was carried by horseback, even on a Sunday, usually arriving in Aberdeen between 10 am and 1 pm.  Coach and horses ran for years on Sundays, up Deeside, as the trains ran only on weekdays.  The Aberdeen Post Office opened for business on a Sunday from 11 am till noon, but with no deliveries.  However, a letter could be collected over the counter, if called for.  When my brother was in South Africa his letter always arrived on Sunday at the Market Street Post Office.” 

(Princess Catherine Dolgorukova, 1847 – 1922 was a former mistress of Czar Alexander II and an occasional Braemar resident).

“About 1926, one of the shooting tenants at Invercauld, bought a new car and sold me his old Chevrolet, which was grand for carrying the school children.  I also got hires from Invercauld, especially since his new car could not take the keeper’s dogs.  This included luncheon, etc., for a fee of £35, which I received again four years later.”

“After getting this school contract, I was able to employ a ploughman and an old man (Willie Fyffe who was later buried at Foot o’ Gairn Cemetery) to look after the cattle.  I then purchased an engine for the thrashing mill, equipped with a cross-cut saw attachment, having no further need to purchase firewood.  The motor car was beginning to become popular, so I had a petrol pump installed at the bar door.”

Deer stalking experiences (1921 – 59)

“I had become well acquainted with most of the game keepers, so I got lots of opportunity to go deer stalking.  (This resulted in me) having lots of funny experiences during my trips into the hills.  On one occasion, on a trip up Glen Callater, we got lost in the fog as the gamekeeper had come away without his compass.  We had seen some hinds, but we were on the wrong side for the wind, so we made to get to the other side of the hill, on arriving there we had crossed our tracks twice.  Arriving at a sheltered spot, where we stopped for a conference, I produced a bottle of rum which brightened up all.”

“However, you should have seen their faces when I told them if I had to stay until the fog cleared, I would keep all the drink to myself, but I was just fooling and gave each one a drink.  One said, “now we are saved”.  Anyhow I told them I had made up my mind to face the wind, walking directly into it until I reached the road.  On coming to the road that we had left, one keeper said he thought that the wind had changed direction, however the other two agreed, so we all went, and in a short time came upon a small tree in a small hollow, which the keeper recognised, saying that we must be very near where the deer were, which was proved correct, for we shot three.  However, the problem was to get them over the Clunie Burn, for the stones had ice on top of them, so I had to get into the water whilst the other pulled on wire, the only thing that was available to pull the deer.  Once we got to the van, we were soon in Braemar, where the kettle was soon full of hot stout and rum, plus a pair of dry socks.”

“Another day’s outing was to Glen Clunie.  The keeper had in the previous year sent his cows down to the hotel farm to winter.  One of the cows was known to be difficult during her calving.  So, when we met, he said that she was always that way.  I therefore told him that was to be the last.  He thereupon took the “huffs”, and there were no further invitations to attend any of his shoots.  This continued until I met him on an election day, when he asked me why I had not been up for a shoot.  I therefore told him quite plainly, that I had not been invited.  He then replied that I would get one, and only one, invite to come, any day you like, when the shooting tenant is not there.  However, he himself was going to Nottingham, England, to give a demonstration in the curing of deer skins, saying that a gamekeeper can learn the English a few tips.”

“A few days later, I set out for Glen Clunie.  I was supposed to have the assistance of a gillie, or pony man.  However, I met him on his way to Braemar and the pub, I therefore knew that I would not see him again that day.  I left the car at the lodge and set out up the glen, where I came upon a lot of stags on the left side, but they were out of season and seemed to know it, as they did not move.”

“The wind was right, so I moved up the hill a little further where I came upon a hind and her calf.  It was no use as the calf had seen me, even though I dropped down quickly, in order to wait until they had passed over the ridge.  The calf had given its mother no peace after seeing me.  How soon does nature take note.  I moved further up the hillside and came on a nice group of 15 to 20, shot 2 dead and wounded another.  She lay down about 50 yards up the hill.  I did a detour to get beyond her, then got her going downhill towards the other two.  When she was near the bottom, she suddenly dived down into a small burn where I could not get her out.  I therefore shot her in the head, in order not to destroy the venison.  On gralloching (or grealaching, disembowelling a deer), I found twin calves, about the size of a small rabbit.  Before then, I had always heard that hinds never bore twins.  To this day, keepers dispute my findings.  I do believe that they seldom bring both young up, as she expects the calf to get up and follow as soon as possible, as she usually gives birth in scrub or very long heather.”

“My troubles were just beginning, getting the stomach out, head and neck off, making steps in the snow and pushing the body down one step at a time.  It took some doing, four steps then the rest was easy, about ten yards and it was all downhill to the other two hinds.  I then returned to the lodge for the horse and sledge and the old garron (Highland pony used for hill work), who was not very willing, but I got on his back as there were two burns to cross.  Once the deer was secured on the sledge, the horse made it home on his own, stopping in the burn for a drink, crossed the next burn and stopping at the larder door.”

“Well, I got home over two bridges, which lead to Baddoch, which was once a farm, but is now used as a shepherd’s sheiling or by hill climbers.  I have slept in it with Jim Maitland, Highland Games Champion.”

(Jim Maitland famously threw the hammer from one side of the village square to the other at the Tomintoul Highland Games in 1922, causing the event to be moved from the square to a public park in a safer location).

“After getting two deer hung up, I went up to tell the gamekeeper’s housekeeper, who made me have tea.  I then set off for home, so pleased, but only a mile down the road the car stopped, and I couldn’t get it going again.  I then had to walk into Braemar and obtained the services of Chas. Stuart, who was Joe Grant’s man, to tow the car back to the garage at Braemar.  Once repaired, I drove home to the Inver.  That was some day, but I think it was one of the most sporting days of my life.  On going for the car the next day, it started first time.  The carburettor had frozen up.  I usually carried a cloth to put over the plugs, as the condensation came after the car had run for a short time, but a hot cloth took over the wet frost vapour, as there were no self-starters in use then”.

“My next stalking experience was up the Slugain Glen (located between Invercauld House, and the mountains Ben Avon and Beinn a’ Bhuird) mentioned in the book (Legends of Mar), where an Invercauld lady had been sent to the lodge, where she was supposed to have a child to the gardener.  The lodge had been a ruin for some time.  The party consisted of the head stalker, two under keepers, plus the man with the horse and cart to carry the deer home.  Our journey proved to be a disaster.  Firstly, the journey in the cart, which had iron rings on the wheels, might have been very suitable to bring home dead deer on normal roads, however on rocky roads, one would have had to have rubber wheels.  It was also January 26^th, the day after my birthday party, so I did not stay long in the cart.  Our journey proved futile, although we saw at least 100 hinds.  However, the stalker said they were (yell), so no one fired a shot.  The young keeper suggested we shoot about 20 and pick out the best to take home.  This suggestion upset the head keeper.  We therefore returned without a shot being fired.”

“However, my luck changed on my way home, for I saw a hind’s head appear about 50 yards in the wood, crept up quietly and shot 3 nice hinds, all within one mile of home.  I gained the assistance of one of the fishing gillies to get them home and hung up in the barn.  All our friends had venison (galore).”

“I had another startling experience, for it was the habit of the Balmoral deer to come across the water (River Dee) to get at my corn crop.  Therefore, one day I had a shot, more to scare the animals off, however this particular deer fell dead.  The horseman came with all the ropes and climbed a tree, I then crossed the River Dee, it was pretty easy going over, but having put the rope round the deer’s neck, the lads pulled it across the river.  I had, in all the excitement, forgotten about getting back myself but with the aid of a branch, or stick, to feel for pot holes, it took quite a while to work my way back, and I certainly would not go over again for all the deer in Scotland.” 

Salmon fishing experiences (1920 – 66)

“I had now begun to take an interest in Salmon fishing, so got up one Sunday and went by cycle up Deeside, carrying an old rod and line with garden fly (worms) and what was then a one penny hook.  At the second pool which I tried, I hooked a fish but having no gaff or net, I found it very difficult to land the fish, but after a struggle, I finally got the fish tired and near the bank.  I put down the rod and, using both hands, threw the fish on to the bank.  How very proud I was of this success!  Since then, I have fished Durris, Cairnton, Balogie, Kincardine O’Neil, Dess, sometimes as a gillie, but I always seemed to have had to fish for the gents who rented the fishing.  I have also caught fish on the Deveron and the Spey. I have twice caught three fish on one evening, but never had the luck to take one over 24lbs.”

“Getting back to the days of the Inver hotel, after a short time and getting to know the local gillies, I was invited out for a night’s salmon poaching.  This had been going on for years up hill burns, using no fishing rods, just a cycle lamp and a gaff.  The first salmon I gaffed, my foot slipped on a wet stone, and I went into the water, head over heels, but I still got my fish.  I had a very exciting night, plenty of salmon and gallons of booze to keep the cold out.  This seemed to be an annual event, for the party knew where the water bailiffs were.  We also had a local gillie with us who knew where the fish were to be found.”

“Sometime later two professional poachers called at the Inver and wanted to show me how salmon could be netted.  I told them that the water was too big, however they were determined it could be done.  However, I went with them to find out, as I had not seen salmon netted, so far up water.”

“Well, they went up to the wire bridge, and one of them took the net end across and moved down for about 100 yards, then the one on the near side asked me to give him a pull, as the net felt full of fish.  However, when we landed it, we found that it was full of holes, where the rocks had torn it.  I could have told them where and how to get the salmon, but I wasn’t too keen to tell them – they never returned to the Inver again.  I reckoned it would have cost them a lot to repair the net.  One gamekeeper I was acquainted with had a dog who, when the fish were up in the burn, would go into the water and drive them to the top of the pool.  Then it would fix one salmon by the tail and take it out of the water.  I think the keeper fed his hens on salmon, for they had lovely brown eggs …  The pigs were also fond of salmon mixed with Indian meal or bruised corn.”

“My daughter, as a child, developed pneumonia.  She would have no one near her except myself.  Just as she was over the worst and getting over the trouble, I came home after driving the children to school.  I felt very tired and actually fell asleep in the car whilst it was in the garage.”

“I then went upstairs to rest until it was time to go and collect the children from school.  However, I was unable to get up and had a terrible time, being unable to take solids, or water.  I couldn’t get artificially-made ice locally.” 

“After suffering terribly, I remembered about the iced tongues under the rocks up on the hill, I managed to have some ice brought down, giving me such a relief to my tongue, which was all swollen.  I also could not close my eyelids, but the ice tongues did the trick.  I began to get better every day, however it took five weeks to clear.  Years later, when I was examined by a doctor, he found a spot on my lungs.  The treatment today for pneumonia is quite the reverse, all the water or liquid that you can drink.”

“During my illness, unknown to me, Mr Smith the factor had called and got my wife to agree to take over the neighbouring house, called Balflaggan, and its land.  Whilst ill in bed, I had made up my mind to do the very opposite, i.e. to get rid of the land and thereby save the wages of both the horseman and the cattleman.  Also on corn, at that time priced seven shillings and sixpence (37 ½ p) per quarter and barley unsaleable.” 

“Things, however, turned out quite differently, for I bought 100 head of sheep (ewes) with two tups and with my own personal interest and a good deal of luck, I obtained a good return in the number of lambs and obtained top price for them.  Lambs and the rabbits were the only two things which paid their way from the hotel, for I could see no future for me in making a business for the laird, who would not sell the place, nor pay for any alterations.  My family of three had nothing to look forward to.  I therefore began to look out for something more suitable, which could belong to me.  Another reason for my change in attitude was that Mr Smith the factor, with whom I had many a friendly row, had died (in 1932), together with Mr Lunn, the forester and Bill Dewar, the gamekeeper.”

Grant Arms Hotel, Fochabers (1930 – 8)

“Well, I eventually bought the Grant Arms Hotel in Fochabers, near the Spey River, with no land attached, although I did keep pigs who were very fond of beer, for we always gave them the bottom of the barrels, which of course contained hops.”

“I have this funny story to tell, having sent a pig to get killed, half the pig to be kept as fresh pork, whilst the other half was to be cured and smoked.  In the hotel at that time, we were not allowed to kill, but had therefore to send the animal to the killing house.  Having got back half as fresh meat, which to me was nothing like the size of the pig which I had sent to be slaughtered, for I had fed it well.  Anyhow, I couldn’t do anything to prove it.  But when I went to collect the other half, I “kicked up Harry”, as both the fresh half and the cured half had tails.  On seeing this, the boss made the excuse that he had been on holiday, and therefore blamed one of the staff.”

“The man from whom I bought the hotel had a horse-drawn hearse.  He left the hearse in the hotel garage, whilst he had a piece of ground for the horse.  In those days the driver of the hearse always wore a tall hat, the one which Mr Hayes had, was always left in the hearse, for it had seen better days for it had no crown.  On one particular day, he had a funeral to officiate.  He arrived at the churchyard like a black and white minstrel, for it had been raining heavy, which washed the soot and dirt from inside the hat down on his face.”

“As the Duke of Gordon owned not only the Gordon Castle and Estate, but all the shooting on Glenfiddoch, Black Water, Auldvalloch and Upper and Lower Cabrach, all of these were also let out for grouse shooting, along with the Estates around Fochabers, Rothes and Boat o’Bridge.  As Mr Clark, the estate forester, and the local keeper both came from the Dufftown area, I began to get more shooting than I could have time for, or the expense, for you couldn’t go on a shoot without a dram, not just for the keeper, but for all the company.

I had another funny experience when attending a hare shoot at Auldvalloch, for we had shot more hare than we could carry, so we set out for home.  As we neared the Grouse Inn and it not being within opening hours, I asked keeper Bain, who was a Highland man, if he was on good terms with the lady who owned the pub.  “Man” he says, “You cannot strive with her as there is nowhere else that you can go to within 7 miles radius”.  Anyhow, we looked out two good hares and the hotel keeper was glad to have us.  We also found a few others, including some farmers, for it had been mart day at Dufftown.  One farmer was from Upper Cabrach and a precentor (person who leads the congregation in singing, often acapella) of the Free Kirk so, after a few drams, he gave us the “Auld Hundred” and nearly all the songs in the Hymn Book.”

“Someone played the mouth organ, which set the others dancing on the flagstone floor.  Soon the afternoon finished with tea and home-baked scones.”

(Donald Grant bought the Grant Arms, Fochabers about April 1930 from William Hay, who was retiring.  By the middle of the following year, Donald was advertising the establishment and its offer regularly in the local newspapers.  The hotel was of quite modest size and appearance compared with its namesake in Grantown on Spey and its main selling point was that it was a good location for peace and quiet, as a centre for touring, and for access to the Moray Firth coast.  By July 1937 it had been sold by Donald Grant).

Grant Arms Hotel, Fochabers

Deer stalking during my time on Speyside

“I often went to the roe deer hunts, but I must say I was not greatly fond of that sport, for you could go a whole day and never fire a shot.  On the other hand, if you could not shoot a roe deer, you were a very poor shot.  I only shot a fallow deer once.  It seems funny and it’s a pity that they are not protected, especially when they have brought reindeer from abroad, - ugly brutes.”

“I had several good days of pigeon shooting when the crops were in stooks.  I also shot rabbits on Stynie Farm.  However, the gamekeeper was a nasty piece of work, for he tried to put me off the farmland, as I had no written permit.  However, I got my own back on him for the farmer (Alexander Duncan, b1865) went to the factor, then got leave to shoot anything on the farm.  I also shot at the Home farm, which was farmed by a Duncan son (George Innes Duncan, b 1888) of Stynie Duncan.  The keeper had a brother, Riddell, who was also told by the factor’s office not to interfere.”

(Alexander “Stynie” Duncan was an interesting character.  He was born in 1865 at Marnoch and completed an apprenticeship as a baker before running bakeries successively in Macduff, Gardenstown and Fochabers.  “Stynie” then branched out in business, becoming landlord of the Grant Arms Hotel, Fochabers and, at the same time, farming at Cowfords farm.  Subsequently, he acquired the Keith Meal Mills and a substantial property portfolio, mostly in Fochabers.  He was a typical denizen of the North-East of Scotland, possessing only a village education but, business-wise, he was as sharp as a tack).

Stynie Farmhouse, Mosstodloch

“Stynie Duncan had married for a second time when he was getting on in years, so the family were for not very friendly, but as the old man had pots of money, they soon got friendly again.  The second wife was a young schoolteacher.”  (Alexander Duncan, “Stynie Duncan”, was 64 when he married Elsie Geddes in 1929.  She was 36).

“In the hotel trade you get many temptations.  On one occasion, I was asked by Duncan to make a fourth at a card party, as he would be away from home.  When I arrived at Stynie, I was met by Mrs (Elsie) Duncan, who was by herself.  She made me very welcome, made tea, then got me a dram.  She then went and lowered the lights, then sat down beside me on the settee.  That was only one occasion – if one had been weak, it would have led to all sorts of trouble.  There is no doubt that many hotel keepers, both male and female, have had this type of problem to face.”

“We had one “queer” (presumably a homosexual couple) wedding at the Grant Arms Hotel.  Both mothers and the “bride” wept, but the couple are still together and doing well.  We had another bride from the south who went all wrong with wine and men.  She was such a nice, kindly person but had this weakness.”

“When my wife was in a nursing home having an operation, the young teacher arrived at the hotel with two young men around midnight.  After they had refreshments, she wanted to go out with the men again, so I told her that she would be locked out if she did so, as I would not let the rest of the hotel’s guests get upset by the noise.  So, she just packed up and left right away.  Poor lass, I have heard about her several times, being a down and out.  What a pity so young and clever a person, coming from good folks, ended up drowning herself in the Spey.”

Medical care (1930s)

“My wife went to the Northern Home to have the operation, however the nursing homes are no better than the hospitals, for both have nurses and doctors who make mistakes.  My wife was given a further dose of medicine, by the night nurse, which the day nurse had already administered for her operation the next day.  As the doctor did not reside in the home, the mistake was almost fatal, only the doctor managed to save her, on hearing why she was so sick and had diarrhoea.  Fortunately, the operation was a success, and we were glad to have her home again, even though it was some time before she was fit to take charge of the hotel again.”

“I must tell you about my experience.  This time how a doctor cured my bad back, with which I had suffered for years from lumbago, now termed slipped disc, for I had tried several doctors without success.  I had a very bad turn, so my wife Annie phoned for the doctor.  By good luck, the one who was supposed to be very clever could not come, as he had a sore head.  However, his partner (Dr Mac Diarmid) was at a party very near the hotel.  We therefore contacted him, where he came at once.  When he arrived, he said in a merry voice “You in bed with a sore back, we’ll have you up and about in a short time”.  My reply was “Don’t be damned funny”.  His reply was “if it’s very bad it will be easily cured”.”

“He asked for a backless chair and was given a pine stool.  The struggle then began, but with blankets and pillows, I was able to get on the stool, when the doctor assured me that the worst was past and proved that by a simple pressure with his hands on the sore part of my back, then by making me go forwards then backwards, then after the second movement you could almost hear the crack as the muscles moved apart.  Then the doctor asked my wife to bring two glasses of whisky in order to celebrate the cure.  When, the other week, it happened again, I had the cure just as it happened 40 years ago.  Seems funny that the medical profession have made little improvement in all those years.”

Garage fire at Grant Arms Hotel, Fochabers (about 1936)

“When at the Grant Arms Hotel, Fochabers, the garage caught fire.  The kitchen maid had put out a bucket of hot cinders when cleaning the fireside.  This set the old stable alight, where the pigs were kept, however we managed to get them out safely and only one of the four had to be slaughtered.”

“We called the Fire Brigade from Elgin, but they were of no use, as the hose couplings were not the same.  They made the excuse that the water force was insufficient.  We however managed to get the fire under control using buckets of water.”

“The garage roof was connected to a flat roof of a shed for storing firewood (sticks).  We managed to make a space between them.  During that time, I found a man with an axe cutting the pole holding up the roof on top of which there were at least five men.  To finish – when the garage was cut away, the men used the ladder to push the roof away as the fire got close, otherwise the hotel and the whole street of houses might have gone up.  Sometime later, the G.P.O. sent me a claim for the pole, bolts, screws and washers etc, but as they had not received permission to erect the said pole, the insurance company did not accept the claim.”

(The garage fire took place at the end of July 1935 and was most notable for the involvement of Hilda, Duchess of Richmond and Gordon as a volunteer firefighter, whose initiative led to the pulling down of a tottering gable and thus circumvented the risk of it falling uncontrollably into the street.  Subsequently, Donald Grant inserted a notice in the local newspaper thanking all those who had helped to extinguish the fire).

“I was not very fond of Fochabers people.  A great number of them were retired teachers and would-be toffs, who went to Elgin for their drink, so that the locals would think that they were T.T. (teetotal).  One, J. George, had got very “fou” (full), the policeman taking him on a hurley (handcart), was thanked for the drive and he hoped he had a comfortable bed for him at the Police Office.”

“I only ever managed to get one day’s fishing on the Spey.  One day the weather was so bad, the gentleman would not come out, so the gillie came and asked me if I (was) interested in fishing by myself.  There was heavy rain, and it was very windy, but as the boat was anchored in mid-stream, it was easy getting the line out.  The gillie was in the hut with a half bottle of rum to keep him warm.  However, I managed to catch a lively 15 pounder and the “toff” never even said “thank you”.  The same “toff” hanged himself with a window cord in a London Hotel when his money ran out.  The same gillie, I. Kerr, was found drowned in the Spey.  The verdict at the inquest was given as “heart attack”.”

Seafield Arms Hotel, Cullen (1938 – 1946)

“After seven years at the Grant Arms Hotel, I heard that Cullen had gone “wet”, after being “dry” for eighteen years.  Also, that the Seafield Arms was in the market.  Two men, with the aid of the factor, had kept it going with a table licence, which was managed by a lady I knew.  I obtained all the information from her and bought it.” 

Seafield Arms Hotel, Cullen

(Cullen voted to allow the consumption of alcohol in local hotels in December 1936.  It had been “dry” for the previous 16 years.  The first press advertisement for the hotel after Donald’s accession, was found in the “Scotsman” in June 1938.  Donald Grant seems to have switched his newspaper advertising from the Aberdeen Press and Journal to the more national Scotsman in his new, much larger and grander hotel.  The advertisements emphasised that the hotel had been modernised and refurbished, with H&C in all bedrooms). 

“I found no difficulty getting a licence, as the Seafield factor was chairman of the licensing court.  It had to be refurbished.  However, there was a big sale at Duff Fife House, where the royal duke, had at one time lived.  Only the factor, who was also factor for Mar Lodge, lived in the house.  The grounds are now owned by the golf course.” 

(Duff House, Banff, is a magnificent Georgian mansion, designed by William Adam.  Its construction was started in 1735.  The house was occupied by the Earls of Fife in the period before 1903, but subsequently the building had a variety of uses, including as a hotel.  A major sale of furniture took place at the end of April 1937, which is presumably when Donald Grant obtained items to furnish his new hotel).

Duff House, Banff

Highland gatherings (1894 – 1968)

“When at the Inver Hotel, we always had a call from the Duff Highlanders on their way to the Braemar Gatherings, with their pipe band, so also had Balmoral and Invercauld with one from Donside.  These have now been replaced by military and the police, with one or two from large works in the South, who all compete at the Braemar Games.  It’s a wonderful sight when the bands unite and march around the games ring, that and the royalty, never mind the cream of professional sportsmen, make these gatherings worth a visit, being set amongst the Grampian hills.  This setting could not be bettered anywhere, and not only for locals from the hill and glens, but for visitors from all over the globe, who are assured of a real Scottish welcome.” 

(See “Queen Victoria and the Braemar Gathering” on this blogsite).

“As I write this, I must not forget about my own local Highland games at Aboyne (initiated 1867), which I have attended for the last 83 years and where I got 20 shillings for winning the Boys race in 1909.  That was the year I was herd boy at Glencat.  This district is also where the famous Donald Dinnie, weightlifter and athlete came from.  However, he was before my time, although I did see him when he was with Cody’s Circus at the Central Park Kittybrewster, where he gave an exhibition of hammer and throwing and stone lifting.”

(Colonel Buffalo Bill Cody and his entourage visited Aberdeen and gave performances at Central Park, Kittybrewster, on 25 – 27 August 1904.  Subsequently, Cody also visited Fraserburgh, Huntly, and Elgin.  Although Donald Dinnie may well have been present at Kittybrewster giving exhibitions of his strength, his star had waned so much by this date that he was not mentioned in the reports which appeared in the Aberdeen Journal.)

“The Donald Dinnie stones which he was supposed to have carried over the Bridge of Potarch, are still to be seen outside the Potarch Hotel, yet no one person has ever lifted the two stones simultaneously, let alone carrying the both of them any distance.  There is also the gravestone in Birse with his father, mother and all the family with date of marriage, birth and death, with the exception of Donald, who died in London.  His date of death has been added on to the stone.”

(Donald Grant’s statements concerning Highland games are not entirely consistent with each other.  It looks highly unlikely that he won the boys’ race at the Aboyne games in 1909, when he would have been 24 but much more probable that the year was 1899, when he was 14 and also working as a herd loon in Glen Cat.  It is not known in which year, or over what period, Donald Grant wrote his autobiography but since he died in 1976 and he had been attending the Aboyne Highland games for 83 years, the latest year of his first attendance would have been 1893, when he would have been 8.  It is clear that Donald must have written his story, or at least parts of his story, late in life.  The tale of Deeside strongman Donald Dinnie’s exploits can be found at “The Life of Donald Dinnie (1837 – 1916) Revisited” on this blogsite).

“On going to the Seafield Arms Hotel, Cullen, my shooting increased, as the Seafield Estates were one of the largest in the British Kingdom, for I always had a good dog.  I soon got to know all the local gamekeepers where I could get a day, either at an estate drive, or on many occasions go by myself with my dog.  The shoots included, pheasant, partridge, grouse, duck and woodcock, which I had to simply watch very carefully when the last two specious fell, as my dog was not too keen to lift them.  Though most dogs don’t think it’s the rank smell those birds have, I think it is because they are so small that they are not easy to find, especially in boggy ground, rushes or heather.”

“I had a mate in the local postman, Jock Sudding, who often came with me on local shoots.  As he was very deaf, I had to leave him in certain places from which he dare not shift, in case he might shoot you, or gun himself.  It worked out alright between the two of us, but it didn’t work too well with a line of beaters on wooded cover.”

“In Cullen the streets are very steep, and the local coal merchant’s mare used to object when the cart was overloaded.  Finally, on the main street, she dropped down dead.  Old Stevie the carter took off his cap, scratched his head, then said, “I’ve seen you have a few tricks, but never one like this before”.”

“Another interesting story concerns the fowls at Deskford (village near Cullen), for the farmers there were complaining about the raids on their hens and had blamed foxes.  It might have gone on for quite some time had it not been for a fall of snow.  The local gamekeeper found the footprints near one of the farms, which he then followed to the hill and, instead of a fox, he found a bitch dog with six young, for she would raid a hen house at night, hide one or two of the fowls, take one with her back to her young, then go back and collect the remainder during the day.  Such a pity that so good and clever a mother and her young had to be destroyed.”

“As young Donald and our hotel “boots”, had been called up, both of them had been in the 6^th Gordons Territorial Army, my options had to be curtailed to an odd day now and again.” 

(Donald K Grant junior, b 1920, served with distinction in Bomber Command of the RAF during WW2).

“The Scottish Horse Regiment were camped for a short time on Cullen Links and Golf Course.  Captain Cox invited me to a few days’ deer stalking on his father’s estate in Perthshire.”

“His father was colonel of the regiment, so I was not very keen to go as these people usually dressed for dinner.  However, he promised that we could have our meals separately.  I then made the excuse about tipping the keepers.  He then told me he normally went stalking alone.  I finally managed to withdraw from the offer by using the excuse of staff shortages.”

Accommodating borstal boys (about 1940s)

“Anyway, the borstal boys arrived, and it was therefore impossible for me to get away, for all of these lads had at one time been in prison.  On the day after they arrived, one of them asked me what the purpose of the broken glass was on top of the walls around the garden, for he said that he would just throw his greatcoat on top and climb over, with the aid of his pal.  When I told him that I kept a loaded shot gun, he remarked, “You wouldn’t shoot a soldier”.”

“I had little trouble from them however, the local prison could not contain them, for they sang, kicked in the door and broke the windows, so they had to have a special hut for them inside the town.”

Stationing of troops in hotel (about 1941)

“When that lot left, we then had a company of Argyle and Sutherland Highlanders.  The captain and three officers were billeted in the hotel.  They provided and cooked with their own staff, some Gie (GI?) meals they got.”

“One Englishman came to complain about the noise the men were making.  When I found out they were only singing “Scotland the Brave”, I replied that as long as they didn’t disturb any others but him, nothing could be done.”

“The local Air Station (RAF Lossiemouth, which opened in May 1939) had both male and female personnel, however we did have one of the officers staying at the hotel.  Early one morning, about 2 am, we had a phone call from a female wanting to speak to this officer.  I asked if anything had gone wrong at the air station, she answered no, but she would like a little chat with the officer.  You can imagine where I told her to go.  At that time, we did not allow women in the public bar, however, we did allow them to have a drink in a sitting room, next to the bar, or in the dining room.”

“The lads at the air station arranged for a supper and dance.  When it came to the supper time, the Wafs (WAAFs – members of the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force) were so full of drink, most of them being English, accustomed to drinking beer and not whisky, were so sick that they did not take the supper and left all of their drink in such places as the bathrooms and the toilets.”

Accommodating evacuees (about 1940s)

“After the troops left, we then had 20 evacuees planted on us.  There was supposed to be a woman to look after them.  Unfortunately, they only stayed for a very short period.  One of these women who stayed for some time, on her night off, used to get drunk.  On the first occasion the hotel girls, thinking she was ill, carried her to her bedroom.  When she had quite a few drinks she used to sing and would walk one step forward and then two steps backwards.”

“The children mainly came from Portobello near Edinburgh.  We found them a real handful.  Not one of them ever told the truth, nothing was ever safe, especially money, for two of them broke the chocolate machines at the railway station.”

“One of these children went off with my wife’s cash to the tune of £23 and cleared off by the early train at 7 am.  Fortunately, our maid, who had wanted money to pay for morning rolls, missed the money and also found that two of the boys had left Cullen Station with the early morning train, so she phoned Aberdeen Police, who met the train.  We then had the cash returned less two fares, but as we would not prosecute, the police kept the money for six months.  They also wanted us to take them back, however my answer was a definite “no”.”

“We found very few of them to be honest or trustful, for we had heard lots of tales about others, especially whilst attending Crathie and Balmoral, who used the rooms as toilets and broke through the bedroom walls.”

Cullen Hall fire (about 1943)

“During my time at Seafield Arms, the hall adjoining was used as a picture house (cinema).  One evening the Cullen Fire Brigade was called out to a fire at the hall.  As the hall was connected to the hotel, I went to help to put the fire out.  I found two Cleansing Department men with a fire hose on the stair, one was pulling the hose up whilst the other was pulling it down.  Then the firemaster arrived.  He was a disabled man who couldn’t put on his own clothes.  He also used a crutch to assist him walking.  None of the firemen went up on the roof, however a Canadian airman and myself went up on the roof and had almost got the fire out when the water supply gave up.  When it came on again for a very short spell, I was so mad at the so-called firemen, I gave them the lot, as all that they were doing was looking on.  The Buckie Fire Brigade then arrived, but their hose fitting did not fit the existing hoses.”

“Mr William Grant was for a spell officer in command of the plotting station, no relation – he came from Winnipeg.”

“By this time nearly everything had been taken from the hotel, including the phone cash box, the servants’ tip box and many other things we never saw again.  Then a soldier lifted two dozen boxes of 6d cakes of soap, which I took from him and turned the hose on him and gave him a good bath, telling him that he would feel much cleaner without the soap.”

“When all our efforts had failed, the Keith Fire Brigade arrived, the firemaster came to me to see if there was any place where it was possible to get water under the roof.  My temper being roused by this time, I told him where to go and to take his firemen with him.  He at once saw my point but told me quite calmly that his men were pumping water from the harbour and if I could show him any point where a water hose could get under the roof, the fire would be as good as out.  I therefore took him up where there was a brick wall, where they took out a few bricks and put the hose through, and the fire was under control in a very short time, one man with common sense, who came out of the crowd, who knew his job.”

“The following Sunday a new firemaster appeared, all dressed up, and was to show how his men could get water to a fire but they still couldn’t get the fittings to connect properly.  Someone had told the chief constable what I had said about them, so he had called to explain that the firemaster was in charge whilst at a fire.  This got me riled up and I told him that it wasn’t the firemen that I had complained about, it was the people carrying or stealing my goods whilst three policemen stood looking on.  This changed his view, but it didn’t bring back my goods.  However, I did get my funeral hat returned.  A friend told me a certain person had taken it, so I wrote and told this individual, giving him 24 hours to return the said hat, which was eventually returned with the excuse that someone else had given him the hat.  The grand piano which was the only thing left in the hotel had been sold and taken away in pieces.” 

(In October 1942 Cullen Town Hall, which was adjacent to the hotel and was also used as a picture house, was gutted by fire but the Seafield Arms was saved, though the guests were evacuated and much of the furniture removed as a precaution).

“The Seafield Arms Hotel was taken over by the Seafield Estates in 1973.  “The Earl”, no doubt with the help of Government grants has been enlarged and greatly improved.  Perhaps with the oil magnates it could be an asset, but otherwise Cullen no longer being a fishing village, seems rather out of place for a first-class hotel.”  (This is a reference to the loss of Cullen’s fishing fleet and the simultaneous development of the North Sea oil industry).

(In the period following the end of WW2 in 1945, Donald Grant’s place of domicile, as established from objective, independent sources, is at times difficult to reconcile with the scattered clues he gives in his own narrative to where he was living.  The following facts have been established from electoral registers for the North-East of Scotland.  During the year 1939 both Donald and his wife Annie were recorded as being resident at the Seafield Arms Hotel, Cullen, however, no electoral registers appear to have been published during WW2, so it is only possible to trace them again in the registers from 1946.  In that year and in 1947 they were living at Seafield Cottage, Banchory and between 1950 and 1955 they lived at 1 Campbell Street, Cullen.  From 1958 Donald senior and Annie resided at Forest Cottage, Inchmarlo, Banchory, Deeside, Annie being recorded there until 1965 (no date of death has been found for her) and Donald until 1976, the year in which he died.)

1 Campbell Street, Cullen

“When the war was over, I had wanted to sell the hotel as my wife had several bad turns with her heart.  Also, my son (Donald) was not too keen to have the licenced hotel but would rather have the garage.  I therefore got the feu split from the hotel, so that Donald and Ivan carried on the hiring business until Ivan got married.”

(Ivan McI Grant had married Mabel (surname currently undiscovered) by 1951and the couple lived at 47 Seatown, Cullen at least between 1951 and 1957.  In 1950 and 1951, Donald junior was living with his parents at 1 Campbell Street, Cullen but about the latter year he married Lorna and from 1951 they were recorded as staying at Seafield Garage, until 1955.  Between 1957 and 1973 the couple occupied 28/30 Seafield Street, Cullen, which appears to have been adjacent to the hotel and may originally have been the hotel stables and identical to Seafield Garage).

Seafield Garage

Auchattie Farm (about mid 1940s)   

“I then bought a farm outside Banchory (1946?), which my wife wasn’t too keen about, so I got Ivan and his wife to manage it for me.  However, after two years (1947 - 1948?) got a good offer for the farm, sold out and had Ivan installed in an icecream and paper shop in Cullen.  By this time a Mrs Jackson had bought the hotel and, after some years, had sold it to a Mr Donaldson.” 

(Auchattie lies close to Banchory, south of the river Dee and west of the Bridge of Feugh, but Donald and Annie appear to have been living at Seafield Cottage, Banchory, which, given the name, was likely named by them).

Banchory House (about 1947)

“After the War, when the boys came home, we sold the Banchory House (Seafield Cottage?).  I bought a house at 1 Campbell Street, Cullen (1948?  The Grants were definitely there from 1950).  After, first Ivan, then Donald got married.  My wife and I wanted to get back to Deeside.  As Aunt Nell was in Glen Aberarder (near Crathie, Deeside, north of the river), we sold the house in Campbell Street and were for a time settled in the glen (about 1955 – 1958), which we have never forgotten.  Auntie’s ashes and also those of her sister, my wife Annie, were scattered there.  It is also my wish that my own ashes be also scattered in the glen.  My son Donald, who visits that part regularly and has had many happy days in the glen, would also like to rest in the same spot.  The glen house was alright in the summer, but pretty hopeless as a winter house.  I then made an offer for a house in Banchory (Forest Cottage, Inchmarlo about two miles west of the town).  However, someone had made an offer of £500 more.  I therefore got a real surprise to receive a wire that my offer had been accepted, the other offer having been refused owing to the person having no money.”

Retiral fishing

“My first job when settled down in Banchory (between 1953 and 1958), was to get some salmon fishing done.  As a gillie was required for Durris House water, I went to see about the job and had an interview with Mrs Baird, which turned out to be quite unpleasant.  However, I was asked to return and see Major Baird (Douglas Montagu Baird, 1897 – 1954), himself a very nice gentleman.  By this time, I had come under the Old Age Pension Scheme (1950), and could not have a proper fixed wage, however he explained that it was not a gillie that he wanted but simply a man to catch fish, which he agreed to pay me 10 shillings for every fish that I caught.  Now that beat is let out at the very large figure of £120 per week.”

(According to a relative of Donald Grant, he became a very successful gillie and would be invited by well-to-do people to go and visit them. He reportedly made regular visits to England and also travelled to Canada and America to see hunting contacts.  These suggestions have not been independently verified).

“Never having had the opportunity, it was a bit strange to start, but I was soon getting one or two and occasionally three per day.  Sometimes the keeper on the other side of the water made a complaint about my starting before 9 am, also for using the boat.  However, as I was not a gillie, I could use the boat.  I had quite a good and happy season which was ended by the tragic death of the Major.  (This suggests that it was season 1954).  My next fishing (1955) was at Cairnton, with plenty of fishing, with an odd week of gillieing.  After that I went to Ballogie, where I had to fish the first month, then ghillie the remainder of the season.  This I did for two seasons (1956, 1957).  The next spell (1958?) of fishing was at Dess water, until it was sold.  I was then asked to fish at Kincardine O’Neil (1959?), where I spent a few happy days with the same gentleman, a Mr Ludlaw who, until he died, sent me a case of apples each year.  His widow still sends a note with £2 enclosed every Xmas.  Since then, I have had odd days on the Spey and the Deveron, where I got a bottle of wine for catching an 11 lb sea trout.”

“Sea trout are easy to catch when it is just getting dark, but very difficult to land in the dark.  When hooked, they usually leap from the water, quite a few feet in the air.  It is at this time that you have to use all your fisherman’s experience and guile by dropping the rod point, then lifting the rod up quickly when the fish lands back in the water.  Some people seem to have the “fishing instinct”.”

“I have seen a supposed fishing expert brought up from the South to learn some “Toffs”, when all they did was draw out 10 to 12 feet of line and cast down the river.  This may be alright for a pond, but if you hooked a fish you must tighten the line at once, otherwise the fish may be across the water, or the line might get stuck around a rock.”

“I once had a gent who fished for 3 or 4 days and had caught nothing, however, his wife on the same beat on the river, had caught a few fish.  One day when he had stuck his bait in the river and his fly up a tree, we had a few words, when he told me he had fished since boyhood.  He then demanded to know why his wife and others were getting fish whilst he got none.  Well sir, I said “Ye canna fish”.  He was so astounded by my remark, that he demanded to know why I thought so.  I replied by telling him that he did not have the fisherman’s patience of covering every foot of the water carefully and skilfully, giving the fish plenty of time to see the hook.  Otherwise, he might as well not be in the water.  Later that afternoon he hooked a fish, but no matter how much I shouted for him to come ashore, he just stood in the water, the fish going round and round him, until his rod was in pieces.  I finally went into the river and took the rod from him, then got back on to the bank, giving his rod back, by which time the fish was floating and therefore easily gaffed.  He told me he had a spare point at the hotel.  I said I hoped he had a spare pair of stockings, as after being in the water without waders, mine were soaking.”

“Some gentlemen are very good, others not so, especially those who were out for their money’s worth.  On one occasion I had one of these people. Whilst out, it came on sleet and he wanted me to make a fire, but there was no fireplace in the hut.  I told him it was impossible.  Anyhow, he couldn’t take it into the water.  He stuck it for a while, then he asked what was to be done.  I replied that it was best to go up to the hut which had a fire in it, otherwise if the snow continued, to go back to the hotel.  This he was not keen to do, until he was advised by the other fishers.”

“Another would-be toff had me back every night, so that he and I both fished.  One night he had gone down water and caught a fish and took what he thought was a short cut through the fields and got lost, finally getting to the hut after his wife had put on his car headlights and kept blowing the car horn.  Well, when Friday came, he said that he was going on Saturday and if I cared to fish, I could have the fish.  On seeing him and his rods away, he handed me a note and drove off.  Instead of a fiver as expected, he had given me a 10-shilling note.  On the Saturday evening, he was on his way South, which would mean that he would call in past the riverside to see if we had got the fish.  I asked if he had made a mistake regarding the tip.  He replied, “Don’t you get paid from the estate”.  My reply was that I was paid by the estate for gillieing from 9 am until 5 pm and that the 10-shilling tip wouldn’t pay for petrol and oil for my car, or for the extra hours, including the fish that I had caught for him.  He gave me an extra £2, which he claimed was all the loose change that he had.”

“On another occasion I had a Navy Admiral Casey, who had been in charge of the fleet during the First World War.  What a temper he had.  However, he was a real gentleman.  One windy day he could not get his line out properly.  He started to wallop the water, so I shouted to him to come and get his hook changed.  After some time when his temper had gone, I suggested going down round the bend out of the wind.”

“He said that I would not make a good Naval Officer.  I asked why and he replied that I should have ordered him back to fish the pool properly with no nonsense.  He never allowed me to carry the fish.  His wife used to arrive in the forenoon, when she came to me and asked if the Admiral had caught any fish.  If he had caught something, she normally stayed for lunch, if not, she went for a walk.”

“One gentleman (nameless), mistaking me for the laird, asked me on his first morning to have a glass of whisky, which I always carried, to the great delight and amusement of gents and the gillies alike, the same man being 6ft 4 inches, having a special peg to hang his waders up to dry.”

(These biographical notes by Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant are clearly incomplete, apparently ending about 1960, though some of the undated incidents may be from a later time.)

Donald Kennedy Cameron Grant (1885 – 1976)

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Don Fox

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