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I have always been aware of my Johnshaven
connection. My paternal grandmother was a Johnshaven
lass, known as Jeannie Bell. Unfortunately, she died
before I was born so I never met her but two or three
times every year we (my father, mother and I) would take
a run up the east coast and visit my father's
folks.
My father's favourite uncle, John McBay, was a huge
figure of a man and I remember watching my daddy
blethering away to his uncle who was much taller, and
thinking - from a child's perspective - that daddy would
grow as big as his uncle one day.
Uncle John's entire life had centred around boats
and the sea. A merchant seaman, it still fascinates me
when I think of how many times he left Johnshaven and
sailed to all sorts of places yet always returned to
that lovely little harbour. One of many men, of
course.
Uncle John loved to paint boats - sailing ships in
fact - but no canvas or expensive artists' materials
were ever used. He would get all of the left over paint
from other fishermen who painted their boats. I was fair
impressed by the amount of old tins of paint he had.
Anyway, he'd sit at the short witha bit of hardboard on
an easel of some sort and paint these amazing sailing
ships, always with the wind filling the sails. The sea,
however, apart from one or two pictures, was always
calm!
As my father and I sat watching him on one of our
visits, a visitor to the village came over and asked
Uncle John what he was painting. "Ahm pentin' a boatie."
As he looked out the sea again, the visitor also scanned
the empty horizon and asked which boat Uncle John was
painting. Adding a few more brush strokes to the amazing
galleon again in full sail that was coming to life in
front of our eyes, he said: "Ahm pentin' the boatie oot
there on the wahter!"
Another very vivid memory of Johnshaven was the
lobster shed. My note at the time was level with the top
of the tanks that the lobsters were kept in. As dad
chatted to his cousin, I couldn't take my eyes off these
amazing monsters. I wouldn't let go of my dad's hand
either until we were back outside again.
It's not just that I have grown a little bigger, I
swear the lobsters aren't half the size they were forty
years ago! I don't think we ever left Johnshaven without
one safely tucked up in the boot of the car.
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My mother didn't like cooking them. Dad had
to do it. I didn't really like the sounds the
monster made but I knew that if I was getting
boiled alive I'd be squealing too! Another
fascinating aspect was the way they changed colour
from blue/black to pink. I had to be lifted up and
allowed to look in the pot to see if the colour
had changed yet. I still adore lobster and look
upon it as food for the gods. Which is probably
why I've not had any for a long time.
I was, on the other hand, very surprised when
I discovered that my maternal grandfather had
actually started life in Fettercairn. That
discovery was just recently. However, since his
name was Fettes, Francis Fettes, it just made so
much sense.
I haven't, unfortunately, so far been able to
trace him at all. He'd have been a pretty young
loon when he left Fettercairn to join up in 1914.
He'd been working on the land or in a garden
before that. Although badly wounded in the left
leg, he was one of the lucky ones who returned. He
was injured at the Battle of Loos where, I
believe, he was a member of the 42nd Scot. Light
Infantry. He returned, however, with the Black
Watch.
He was an exceptionally strong man, a
brilliant cook, had a great sense of humour. He
was always playing tricks and I loved him to bits.
He was the first person that I lost. I was only
seven or eight when he died. I have lots of
Grandpa stories and I'm always asking my brother,
who is a bit older and remembers more, to tell me
more. It would be brilliant if I could trace back
to Fettercairn though - a definite special extra.
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