Deja Vu Again-Cromarty
Glenallan
I visited the small town of Cromarty a few weeks ago, when my wife
and I were guests of an old friend, Mr Brown, a resident of Nairn.
It was a fine summer's day as we approached the Black Isle by
way of the new bridge, from Inverness. The landscapes and the beautiful
views over the Cromarty Firth were an inviting challenge for the day and
soon we found ourselves in the pleasant little town of Cromarty.
For its size Cromarty houses its fair share of quaint little streets and
buildings.
There are the aptly named Big Vennel and Small Vennel
(which you somehow feel should be 'Wee Vennel'), a churchyard,
a Courthouse and The Hugh Miller memorial.
I spent some time in the Old parish Church, built in the 16th century,
admiring the very old 'improvements' and further renovations
that had been carried out over the years. The church, owned now by
the Scottish Redundant Churches Association is an interesting chronicle
of the development of the Presbyterian Church in Scotland.
Interestingly, the church has a centrally positioned 'fire and brimstone'
type of pulpit. I know it isn't really allowed, but I decided to give it a
try, and cleared my throat for some invocations of some sobriety.
I was pleased with the booming result, and did it a few times more
before being 'telt tae wheesh' by the Missus.
There was a strange eeriness about this church, and I became
conscious of what felt like a finger being drawn down my cheek, and a
certain coldness. I turned round to see a shaft of light pass through the
window and illuminate a very ordinary looking leather bound Bible that
someone had been left, perhaps for the use of visitors. Just as I was
about
to pick it up, there was a thumping as of a staff being heavily banged
on the floor of the upper gallery and my eyes caught a glimpse of the
following text.
>I looked, and behold, an Ashen Horse; and he who sat on
>it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him.
I was stunned into silence and found my way to the front door, gasping for
breath. Irene asked me if I was well, and I could not speak. We stepped
outside to the sunlight and made our way round, past the graveyard towards
the shore. My heart was still beating like a drum.
A young half-cast girl, in a strange dress, at an entrance gestured to me
to come in. I heard no words but immediately found myself in the town's
Photographic Club premises. An English lady, who said that this was their
annual display, began to describe some of the pictures. As she was doing
so my eyes wandered to a sepia photograph of the pulpit I had just seen in
the church. There was a strange light and the picture began to take on an
animated form and move slowly from side to side and man in a clerical
collar, by some process of metamorphosis, was in the picture, which
soon became not a picture but a transposition.
I stood before him; perhaps six feet from the pulpit elevated about three
feet in the air. The walls of the church had disappeared.
All this time the Bible which had been mysteriously closed, opened again,
and the pages, of their own volition leafed over slowly and stopped.
The tall cleric said nothing and with his skeletal hand he pointed at the
Bible and gave the merest nod
Again I saw.
>I looked, and behold, an Ashen Horse; and he who sat on
>it had the name Death; and Hades was following with him.
In the distance I could plainly hear the whinnying of a horse,
and the strange coolness returned. I could not move a muscle,
and the sense of sound appeared to have been removed from me
All at once, we were out in the street again, and I could hear my
friend call loudly, and laughingly from the car
"Mr Black, Mr Black, you are Mr Black aren't you?"
"Where have you been? We thought we'd lost you.?"
When we returned to Nairn, we went to the Newton Hotel's bar.
I quickly had a large glass of Glenlivet
The tall bartender looked over his glasses and with the merest
nod, motioned to me and pointed with his skeletal hand.
I looked and saw......
> Two Glenlivets, Eleven pounds sixty pence.
I was stunned into silence again. ;-)
G
--
Adam Whyte-Settlar
"Glenallan" <rmb...@btinternet.com> wrote in message
news:b58gar$t97$1...@hercules.btinternet.com...
> Cromarty
>
> I visited the small town of Cromarty a few weeks ago, when my wife
> and I were guests of an old friend, Mr Brown, a resident of Nairn.
>
> It was a fine summer's day as we approached the Black Isle by
> way of the new bridge, from Inverness. The landscapes and the beautiful
> views over the Cromarty Firth were an inviting challenge for the day and
> soon we found ourselves in the pleasant little town of Cromarty.
> For its size Cromarty houses its fair share of quaint little streets and
> buildings.
>
> There are the aptly named Big Vennel and Small Vennel
> (which you somehow feel should be 'Wee Vennel'), a churchyard,
> a Courthouse and The Hugh Miller memorial.
>
while.
Did you check out the reproduction 19th century garden behind Hugh Millers
house by any chance?
I planted it out when I was a landscape gardener.
I had to move that ancient sundial to its present position. Apart from
weighing about a quarter of a ton, being about 200 years old and made of now
very weathered, crumbly sandstone - it is priceless from an historical
context as it was a gift to Hugh Miller from some important bod or other.
I wrapped it up in various padding materials until it was covered to a
thickness of about 2 ft before I dared to start winching it about the place.
The herbs and flowers are as nearly identical to the herbs and flowers that
Hugh Miller grew.
Not especially pretty but very interesting I thought.
Got my ugly mug in the Inverness Courier for that one.
My Mother spent her last 10 years or so in Cromarty and my first Scottish
girlfriend came from there.
Shows what poor taste the local lassies had back then eh?
--
The adorable Adam Whyte-Settlar
- destined to be forever in the minority
Glen A. Cook
that have sprung up in Cromarty.
Glen Cook
Rob
behind Hugh Millers house by any chance?
I planted it out when I was a landscape gardener.
I had a couple of pints in the pub opposite Hugh Millar's house.
One of the locals was bemoaning the state of the gardens
which had been planted out a few years back by some chancer
masquerading as a gardener.
It was a beautiful summer's day and the whole town
actually looked very attractive. I did not have time to view
the Hugh Millar house as we had a prior engagement at the
magnificent Newton Hotel back in Nairn.
Apparently it was Charlie Cha[plin's favourite Scottish
resting place. For my sins, I was mistaken for
Rikki Fulton....who, by an amazing coincidence was at
the same school as me. There ye go...... ;-)
Glenallan
----------
"Adam Whyte-Settlar" <grawi...@hotmail.com> wrote in message
news:1hUda.7052$8b.8...@news02.tsnz.net...
Adam Whyte-Settlar
"Rob" <rmb...@btinternet.com> wrote in message
news:b5a2gp$34s$1...@titan.btinternet.com...
> Did you check out the reproduction 19th century garden
> behind Hugh Millers house by any chance?
> I planted it out when I was a landscape gardener.
> ---
>
> I had a couple of pints in the pub opposite Hugh Millar's house.
> One of the locals was bemoaning the state of the gardens
> which had been planted out a few years back by some chancer
> masquerading as a gardener.
I know that guy - he is just pissed off 'cos I got the contract and not him.
I wasn't responsible for maintaining it anyway - I just planted it.
I have to agree it isn't the prettiest but that is because it was a
reproduction 19th century garden and was primarily practical. The plants are
nearly all culinary and medicinal herbs etc.
> It was a beautiful summer's day and the whole town
> actually looked very attractive.
It has improved hugely in recent decades. Back in the early 70's one third
of the houses were derelict, as were most of the now restored larger
buildings - the old brewery and the old rope factory etc.
You could buy a large town house there for the equivalent of a couple of
years average wages.
It was a strange, run-down, end-of-the-road kind of place then. Very
unwelcoming - not just to *nglish visitors but to anyone at all from the
outside. Most of the inhabitants were from only three families who were in a
constant state of feud.
A W-S