We rode the Flying Scotsman further north into Scotland, crossing the River Cyde just as we pulled into the intricate Victorian railway station in Glasgow, where we exercised our legs a bit and boarded the modest two-coach train to Johnstone.
We stepped off the train, disoriented and must have looked so. Knowing no stranger, Jean asked a kindly Scot's lady, Margaret Cockburn, for directions to Elderslie and our Gleniffer House B&B. Margaret said "follow me" and we walked together, while she showed us a short-cut and delighted us with stories of her family.
A little further, beginning to be weary from the almost 3 miles with our packs, we made our way past where the Stoddard Carpet Factory used to be, uphill to Gleniffer House (for scale, click on the picture and look carefully at the flower box where Jean stands). |
Having just walked 2.5 miles from Johnstone to Glennifer House, we deposited our few belongings in our room and...we walked back in to town! Finding few restaurants on the High Street and paying close attention to our hunger, we walked into Collier's Pub, skeptical at its advertised pub food. Collier's locals and their audible ambience did it for us: "we're staying!"
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We found our way to the short leg of the bar, proprietor Martin Docherty flashing a friendly smile of welcome. We've come for drinks and a meal! Oops...oh, dear we missed the meal time (hey, it's only 5:30). Martin first checked with the kitchen to see if there was anything left for us and then immediately suggested that we go next door to the take away and bring the food back to his bar, where he would supply plates and utensils.
Already enjoying the place, feeling like we were established as welcome, we went for take away, confusing the fast food young employees with orders of cole slaw and chips, eschewing fish or sausage, and happily & gratefully remarked on how easy it was for vegetarians to find a good meal even at a take away. Side ways looks from the young ones; we spread our joy everywhere.
We returned to Colliers, and sat at the table next to the bar, where Martin, a magician, produced plates and silver for our use. We went to the bar and ordered a glass of wine and Martin's recommended Tennant's ale for Michael. Martin would not let us pay. "It's on the house. You'll return the hospitality when I come visit your country." We were in Scottish pub heaven with its very own gracious Martin.
We enjoyed our substantial meal (ordering way too much, not realizing that the take away was generous with their salads & chips) as we talked with a married couple sitting at the bar (recently refurbished after a fire).
Upon hearing of the location of our B&B, it was that couple who told us the sad news for Johnstone. The Stoddard Carpet Mill, producing carpet and employing residents for decades, sold its factory site, moved to Kilmarnock, and put the fathers, mothers, sons & daughters of Johnstone out of work. The factory had been demolished and was now gone, with it an entire generation and a way of life, to be replaced by new homes for Glasgow commuters. The final insult - the new homes development is called Mill Park. He had worked there for 30 years and lost his job. In the noise of the pub, for a brief moment, we saw himself look away momentarily, close to tears. We felt as though a friend had lost a part of his life.
We left Colliers, full of food, drink and happiness. Our Pub! Walked back to Glennifer House, via Abbey Road, scowling at the flattened Stoddard site and smiled at the sunset that put alpine glow on our faces. The same sunsets of Jean's ancestors. We slept well and prepared for our visit with the Brocklebank cousins the following morning.
As arranged by phone, cousin Catherine's husband, Harold, came to Gleniffer house by auto to collect us after breakfast on 21 April for the short drive to their home. Quite coincidentally, we discovered that the property next to our B&B, "Glenpatrick House," was where Catherine's Uncle Bob & wife lived in a flat from 1937 through all of their married life!
Wee Catherine: bubbly, Scottish through and through. Harold Boxall was originally from Yorkshire, England and Michael remarked that his accent was just like Clarence the angel in "It's a Wonderful Life." Indeed it has been a wonderful life for Catherine & Harold and we began our reunion with The Cousins at the Boxall's home of 45 years, to where they moved after their wedding day.
Already enjoying the place, feeling like we were established as welcome, we went for take away, confusing the fast food young employees with orders of cole slaw and chips, eschewing fish or sausage, and happily & gratefully remarked on how easy it was for vegetarians to find a good meal even at a take away. Side ways looks from the young ones; we spread our joy everywhere.
We returned to Colliers, and sat at the table next to the bar, where Martin, a magician, produced plates and silver for our use. We went to the bar and ordered a glass of wine and Martin's recommended Tennant's ale for Michael. Martin would not let us pay. "It's on the house. You'll return the hospitality when I come visit your country." We were in Scottish pub heaven with its very own gracious Martin.
We enjoyed our substantial meal (ordering way too much, not realizing that the take away was generous with their salads & chips) as we talked with a married couple sitting at the bar (recently refurbished after a fire).
Upon hearing of the location of our B&B, it was that couple who told us the sad news for Johnstone. The Stoddard Carpet Mill, producing carpet and employing residents for decades, sold its factory site, moved to Kilmarnock, and put the fathers, mothers, sons & daughters of Johnstone out of work. The factory had been demolished and was now gone, with it an entire generation and a way of life, to be replaced by new homes for Glasgow commuters. The final insult - the new homes development is called Mill Park. He had worked there for 30 years and lost his job. In the noise of the pub, for a brief moment, we saw himself look away momentarily, close to tears. We felt as though a friend had lost a part of his life.
We left Colliers, full of food, drink and happiness. Our Pub! Walked back to Glennifer House, via Abbey Road, scowling at the flattened Stoddard site and smiled at the sunset that put alpine glow on our faces. The same sunsets of Jean's ancestors. We slept well and prepared for our visit with the Brocklebank cousins the following morning.
As arranged by phone, cousin Catherine's husband, Harold, came to Gleniffer house by auto to collect us after breakfast on 21 April for the short drive to their home. Quite coincidentally, we discovered that the property next to our B&B, "Glenpatrick House," was where Catherine's Uncle Bob & wife lived in a flat from 1937 through all of their married life!
Wee Catherine: bubbly, Scottish through and through. Harold Boxall was originally from Yorkshire, England and Michael remarked that his accent was just like Clarence the angel in "It's a Wonderful Life." Indeed it has been a wonderful life for Catherine & Harold and we began our reunion with The Cousins at the Boxall's home of 45 years, to where they moved after their wedding day.
The Brocklebank Cousins
Many years ago, Jean's great-great grandfather (John Brocklebank) left northern England, the home of his ancestors, to continue life in Johnstone, Scotland. He and his wife Martha (nee McVay) had lost their two infant sons (James & John) in industrial Preston. There had been a recession in the cotton manufacturing industry in the early 19th century but the mills in Johnstone were not affected because they used flax from the UK & Russia, rather than cotton from the southern states in America. For whatever reasons John moved from England to Scotland, it was his descendants who would ultimately be the late 19th century Scottish immigrants to America about whom Jean would learn 100 years later.
In November 1867, John, a widower, married again in Johnstone. His wife, Isabella Munn, from Aryshire, was a "flax mill hand." They had four children (including Jean's great-grandfather James). John died in 1877, at age 53. Living 48 years after his death, to her grandchildren Isabella Brocklebank would always be "Granny."
It was the great-grandchildren of "Granny" whom we visited in Johnstone: Catherine, her sister Una and their cousin Nessie. Their grandmother, Agnes, was the sister of Jean's great-grandfather, James Brocklebank. And it was love at first sight! Family reunited in Scotland and ancestors surely smiling from their graves. We spent most of a day visiting with one another in the McDonald Street home of Catherine and her husband, Harold. Sharing pictures and trying to make sense of the connections. Cousins? First, second? No matter...there was such joy and love in that home. The Scottish accent hung heavy in the air and we tried desperately to absorb it into our souls...it was intoxicating. |
Later we bade them farewell as we wanted to walk to Johnstone center and find the home of our common ancestors, Isabella Munn and John Brocklebank. We wallked the short two miles and found what was #4 Hagg Crescent, now renumbered to 16. Jean knocked on the door to ask the current resident if she might take a photograph in the backyard. An elderly man, Mr. Flinn, with one tooth, answered the door and gave his blessing to our exploration.
We all stayed in that backyard of yesteryear for some time. There we were greeted, across the stone fence by Jean McAlister (pictured with the cousins), Catherine's long time friend who now lives in #2 Hagg Crescent where Catherine was born! Then we said our goodbyes once more, filled with so much emotion that it is difficult to explain. |
We walked on, to the High Street of Johnstone, looking for other family historical landmarks, including the remnants of the old Finlayson flax spinning company where Jean's McAulay and McGowan ancestors had been managers and great-grandfather Brocklebank had apprenticed, (alas, now taken down and replaced by a huge terraced housing estate ironically called Mill View Terrace!) another family home at #12 George Street (now a car park) and another on Ellerslie Street (one flat left from yesteryear!).
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We left Johnstone on the morning train, leaping aboard at the last minute as the doors slid shut. We rode southwest past Dalry out to the coast at Ardrosson harbor, where the Norse King Haakon's fleet took shelter before the Battle of Largs in 1263 AD, when Scotland's King Alexander III lured the Vikings into a trap in bad weather and difficult terrain. We walked along the long curve of South Ardrosson Beach to the winding streets of Saltcoats, where we caught the train back to Dalry.