Emma And The Vanishing Huts
I've received a shocking e-mail from an Arts student in Dundee who needs help in preserving a piece of local history. It's shocking to me because it seems that a huge chunk of my childhood is about to be wiped out. The student's name is Emma McGregor and her project involves the little huts that are scattered on sites between Monifieth and Carnoustie. One such hut was where I spent most Easter and Summer holidays as did my parents, six brothers and one sister.
Emma contacted me because she discovered an old blog posting in which I'd described listening to the radio in the hut because there was no electricity to power a telly. Lighting was by gas, candle or paraffin and water came by way of a trek to a stand-pipe.
As I recall there were two big sites off the Barry Road. Our hut was in the 'Lucknowe' near the piggery. A half a mile north of that there was the 'Downs' site which was tucked behind the riding stables. Our hut was demolished about fifteen years ago and now Emma tells me that most of the others are likelyto go the same way. It seems there's more money to be made by renting the land to caravan owners either as static camps or winter storage.
In the meantime, Emma is trying to collect as many memories and photographs as possible.
She's not had a lot of luck so far so has asked me to include her e-mail address in this posting. I must also put her in contact with our sports reporter Jim Spence who also remembers days of childhood fun with friends at the huts.
My original blog on The Hut can be seen by clicking here. There's also this article on the subject from The Big Issue.
© MMIX~RS~q~RS~~RS~z~RS~32~RS~)
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Sincerely hope Emma's campaign gets the support it so earnestly requires. Like most things to do with modern living one of the first things to go is a perceived sense of community which huts and those who have used and continue to do so obviously have.
We in Clydebank / North Glasgow area have our own Carbeth Hutters, maybe Emma could look to a national call for support?
Emma may care to check out...
www.moveonup.tv/UserFiles/File/DONALD-COUTTS-2008.doc
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Thanks mac... I'll have a look at that..
I'm hopefully going to get some support from the local paper ... trying everything...
I hope it isn't the case but if there is nothing anyone can do to stop these hutters from being evicted, then the very least I can do is make sure they're not forgotten.
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You have no idea what it meant to me to find your blog today, Jeff! I'm supposedly in my early sixties (lol!) and sitting here in Delaware, USA, remembering Easter Sundays at my auntie's Hut at The Downs...early-mid150's (and probably in the forties though I don't remember those days. I do remember my Mum telling me Gran 'took the laddies' to the hut as evacuees during the war, though for how long I don't know. Mind you, she also mentioned they had gone to the school at Barry.) We all lived in Dundee and this past week my memories have returned home as I've blogged on my own site about Easter as a kid. We'd go to Ward Chapel Congregational on Easter morning and, of course, sister and I to Sunday School. We had our baskets with us, dressed in finery (though I'm sure Mum had some play clothes stashed!) and after services, we'd head for Lindsay Stree bus station to get the bus for Carnoustie. I loved when it was a double-decker...not the kind with seats on either side of a centre aisle, the old ones with one aisle down one side of the bus and l-o-n-g seats filling up the rest of the upper deck. We always went upstairs for Dad smoked a pipe and, getting the bus at the station meant my sister and I had first dibs at the front seat. There was nothing quite as exciting as the bus careening round the bends and twists in the road to Carnoustie and us hanging on to the bar across the front window!
The family hut was one of the first as you entered the field, only a few steps from the stand pipe. One big room where there was a settee, fireplace, where we gathered to blether and eat our meals. There was another wee room off of it, with the calor gas burner, single bed, a place to wash dishes and store the supplies for the weekend. Next door (outside) was the chemical toilet. I can still smell the disinfectant mixed with the chemicals they used and remember how my Dad...among the other uncles...hated to be on 'emptying' patrol! I recall the sand pits where we'd be digging our way to China; the big Army bell tent the laddies (my cousins) would use when they had friends visit with us all. One year us little ones went in there despite being told not to and the thing collapsed around us! There was a shoppie further up the field that sold emergency supplies...especially the ones us kids needed...sweeties. I can still remember the wonderful aromas as we stepped inside. The milk we'd go get from the farmer...seemed to me his name was Strachan...and the black and white cows, especially Bessie, in the adjacent field. Even the smell of the pigfarm, when the wind was just right, permeated the landscape. Easter Sunday seemed to mark the opening day of everyon's hut and all the bairns would be out rolling their eggs. We'd have lunch, later dinner and before it got dark be packing up and making our way to catch the bus home...tired, probably dirty!...and happy. And thinking "Roll on the seven weekies!" We'd spend many Sundays, a few weekends down there, courtesy of the aunt (every one had to get their turn of the Hut) but there was always a week down there during the school holidays. Happy days! The only regret I have is my cousins (the boys) got to go climb trees, find hazel apples and Mum never would let me go! Thank you so much for sharing memories so similar to my own. I would say I found your post by accident but...as some say, there ARE no accidents!
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