Document 530
Craiters: 06 - E Hens Riv
Author(s): Alexander Fenton
Copyright holder(s): Alexander Fenton
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Ere wis a gweed lot o space for e hens on e craft, for ey brocht in siller wi eir eggs, ir ye cd swap em for groceries fin e van cam. Bit ey fluffert aboot an trampit an made eir mess aawye an ere wis nae girse or greenery left in e riv, haad awa fae e boortree busses at e back o e hoose, an e big trees at tried hard bit wi little success tae shelter e craftie. Ye cam intill e close aff e main road, passin e drain fae e midden at took e bree in anaith e road an oot intill e park on Charlesfield Craft. It hid a gweed honest smell, an wis aften enyeuch chokit onywye. I niver min naebody thinkin naething aboot it.
Byre, barn an hoose wis in line on e left haan side, an e yard on e richt. It wis a big yard, wi a palin o widden spars on three sides, an a beech hedge neesht e road. It grew tatties in season, ere wis a big patch o rhubarb for makin jam at ye took on yer piece or as a sweetener wi yer semolina, sago or tapioca, ilky clump ornamentit wi an upside doon boddemless pail tae force on e stalkies in e spring. A dish o fresh rhubarb, bilet an sweetent an maybe aiten wi a tickie breid – at’s oatcakes, ye ken -, wis supposet tae be gweed for cleanin oot e system, I suppose like pittin new ile intill an ingine, bit I canna say I iver noticet much difference an I niver fanciet e stuff much onywye. Fin ye pat milk ontill’t in yer puddin plate it turned aa soor an I jist winner fit it did tae yer intimmers.
E tap an e far yard palins made twa sides o e hens’ riv, an atween e porch o e hoose an e yard, ere wis a gate intill e riv, made o nettin weer on a frame. Ere wis mair nettin weer at various ither pints tae try tae haad e hens in (e dyeuks an turkeys wisna sae bad), bit ye niver managet aaegither, mair sae fin ere wis a park o ripe corn within sicht.
Tae tell ye e truth, ere wis files fin ye hid tae haad oot as weel’s haad in. We hid a reengy reed coo, an Ayrshire, at geed a lot o milk though it hid ae blin tit, a aiftereffecks o mastitis, an she wis jist e best expert at iver I saa at winnins throwe palins. If she wis grazin in e park alangside an ma mither hid e washin oot – e line wis in e hens’ riv tee – at coo (she niver hid ony name bit ‘e reed coo’) wid gunge aboot ir she won throwe tae get a chaa o e aaprons or sarks or fitiver wis hingin ere. Files she managet it ir she wis noticet. An aafa best! Ye daardna lat ont bairns intill e same park wi er, she’d a gone for em. Jist a richt crafter’s coo, ye micht say, an she hid er faats, bit she geed gweed milk an ay e ither calfie in due time.
E riv ran roon twa sides o e yard, roon e back o e hoose an doon as far as e back o e milkhoose at juttit oot fae e back o e kitchen, alang wi a smaa roomie at hid a biler for fin ye did a big wash, or aan aboot e New Ear I min e smith at bade ere afore’s wid bile a monster clootie dumplin in’t. Here at e back o e hoose ere wis a boortrees, wi eir bonnie sweet floories at e loons likit aye tae snuff at e floorishin time, an syne shiny black berries, bit itherwise es wis a caal, bare kinna nyeuk an we niver played in’t much, haad awa maybe fae cuttin a boortree branch tae mak a pluffer, powkin oot e saft, fite intimmers wi a handy bit o palin weer. Even e hens didna aftern come roon here tae scrape. Ere mith a been an antrin rat tee, an I’ve seen e odd een clammerin aboot a heap o steens gaithert aff e park alangside, haived ower e palin an jist left for aa eternity aside e boortree buss. It wis jist fit ye micht caa deid grun.
Fit wis a lot mair handy wis e big trees in e main bit o e riv. I aye likit tae speel trees, for ae thing. For anither, I eest tae play aboot wi all-farrant electronic, an if ye wintit gweed reception fae yer crystal set wi its cat’s whisker, ye’d tae hae a gweed spread o aerials. I ran weers fae ma up-e-stair bedroom windae tae different trees an throwe at I managet tae get a lot o e world intae ma hans, or tae be mair exact, intae ma lugs throwe a heidphone. I fixed on a tuner, a great big breet o a thing, fae a defunct battery wireless, an maistly it wirkit fin I took e patience tae let it.
Bein young an likely stupit, an bein a bittie teen wi Wild West stories I got tae read fae some o e fairm chiels, wi eir reel Indians an eir tammiehaaks, I took a fancy for throwin an aix at een o e big tree trunks. Aifter a filie, I got rale gweed at garrin e blade stick in. It didna dee e tree much gweed; bit on e ither hand, it cowert it fine an it didna tak lang for e scars tae seal up. An eeseless kinna ploy, bit fit’s nae in e tail o e day?
E riv didna jist haad hens. Inside it wis e watter pump at supplied e hoose. Mony a pailfae I’ve pumpit an cairriet intill e porch, faar een or aften twa pailies o fresh water wis keepit on tap o a tablie, an in anaith wis e orra pail for fool water. Fin es wis full, it hid tae be teemed intill e midden, ir aan it wattert e yard.
E pump wis cast-iron an it wirkit fine maist o e time. Noo an aan e washer geed deen an ma faither hid tae mak a new een oot o a bit o leather in eez souter’s shoppie. Eence ir twice I’ve seen e cover bein liftit for cleanin. Ye’d ging doon on a ledder, an faith it geed a gweed bittie doon. Ye hid tae keep e cover ticht in case a hennie fell in an droont, bit files something got in onywye an hid tae be redd oot. Naebody geed a thocht till e hen’s dirt aboot e moo o’t.
In a hait simmer, it aye geed dry, as eel’s a coo afore calvin, an syne ye got tae ken fit watter mint – ir e lack o’t. We’d tae runk a barra an a big milk-can, een at held a gey fyow gallons, an wheel’t doon e road a gweed quarter o a mile till a concrete cistren at e neesht fairm. Es een wis for keepin beas wattert an it niver geed dry. Ere wis an iron lid on a tap, closed be a bolt, an ye hid yae swing es back on its hinges, syne lean in tae lave oot pailfaes, een at a time. Ye’d tae lowp aff e heid o e cistren, heist e pail doon, haiv’t ower a steen dyke, teem’t intill e can on e barra, syne repeat e dose as aften as required till e can wis foo, an ready for its shoogly run back till e craft.
Ye fairly learnt tae be canny wi e watter. We’d nae sinks an nae drains tae squanner’t on, an iv coorse, nae bathroom. Fit I did wis tae take bilin water oot o e kettle abeen e fire in e reenge intill a basin, tap it up wi a tickie caal tae mak it loo-warm, syne I’d haad up tae ma room, steek e door, an start be washin ma heid. Followin e simple system o wirkin doonhill syne, I’d feenish up wi ma feet, an at e eyn e watter was likely gey din. E basin wis teemed intill e orra pail. It wis maybe jist an apology for a richt dook in a bath, bit fit ye’ve niver kent ye dinna miss, an I can tell ye at I ay felt richt smairt aifter sic a tap-te-tae dichtin. Ye cd aye hae a dook in e burn in e summer, aifter ye’d made a deepenin an cleared oot e water weeds, bit it niver felt e same. Ye wis aye feert somebody wid catch ye.
Onywye, fit’s hygiene? It’s aa jist a maitter o time an place. Ere wid a been e odd thocht aboot it on e craft, bit naebody hid e time tae be ower pernicketty. In my time, e estate at aacht e place pit up a new widden lavvie for’s. It sat aside e moo o e close, in e nyeuk o e widden shed at wis biggit tee till e byre. Aabody comin till e hoose door geed by’t. Afore at, we hid tae use een in e hens’ riv, ir nae jist exactly in e riv bit jist inside an aal henhoose biggit ontill e eyn o e hoose. Es henhoose wis o tarred, timmer planks an a tarred timmer reef tee, sae it wis black a ower, an ye got tarry bubbles an blisters fin e sin wis ower hait. Ye got intill e lavvie throwe a door at wis near ay left open for e hens tae rin oot an in, an for fowk tae gang in tae gaither e eggs, maist o em in nests bit e antrin een on e slopin platform anaith e reests, laid fin a hennie hid gotten excitet an made a mistaak. Ere wis aye some scraichin an flufferin aboot fin ye made a collection, an ye got e cloaker noo an aan at widna meeve an wis mair concerned tae pick yer fingers’n tae let ye gaither e treasures she wis hoordin. Jist on e left inside es door wis anither, made o backs, an a bit rickly, an es let ye intill e aal lavvie. Fit I min is sittin ere, hearkin till e soons o e hennies hard by yer lug, richt contintit fin e gloamin wis comin doon, an noticin e filterin in o fite styoo an bitties o quills an scales throwe e cracks in e dividin waa atween you an e reests. Ere wisna a lot o licht got in an it wisna as gweed for readin in’s e new lavvie.
Ere wis a lot aboot e hens’ riv tae dee wi e life o e craft. E hens laid eir eggs, an ma mither swappit em for groceries fin e van cam roon. Ere maybe wisna muckle lowse siller aboot e place, bit ere wis ay eggs an butter, en ye cd gey near manage wintin pennies. It wis e hens an e kye at keepit’s, ivery bit as much as ma faither’s shop.
Forbye, e hennies aye geed ye a chance o a pot o fine maamie broth. Ere wis twa wyes o deein. Files a hen got oot o e run an ontill e road, ay on e haik for fresh scraps gin ey cd get aff wi’t, an wid get run ower for ey’ve got nae sense fin it comes tae road safety. Ye’d hear a bump an e scraichin, an maybe widna be jist ill-pleased, for ye kent e broth pot wid be on, aifter due plottin an pluckin o fedders an haalin oot o intimmers. Bit files for a Sunday denner, or for e New Year, ye’d be makin hen broth onywye, sae ye’d tae gang intill e riv, an pick a victim for e slachter. Ma mither kent fine foo tae thraa eir necks an gie em a knackie bit she niver wis on for deein’t an at’s ae thing I niver wid tackle. At mint ma faither hid tae dee’t. Him bein a toonser far Aiberdeen, e hidna e nack. He’d tae tak e hannle o a besom, lay’t on e grun, pit e hen’s heck in anaith, tramp on e hannle wi ae fit an pu e legs wi aa eez micht, e wings wirkin meantime in holy terror. E scraichs seen qualled. It wisna e best wye tae dee’t, bit at’s fit e did. An sae we got wir hen broth (we caad it at firther it wis a cock or a hen), an e ither hens in e riv peyed not one iota o attention till e loss o een o eir nearest an dearest.
Aye, e hens’ riv hid a lot tae dee wi e life o e craft.
Byre, barn an hoose wis in line on e left haan side, an e yard on e richt. It wis a big yard, wi a palin o widden spars on three sides, an a beech hedge neesht e road. It grew tatties in season, ere wis a big patch o rhubarb for makin jam at ye took on yer piece or as a sweetener wi yer semolina, sago or tapioca, ilky clump ornamentit wi an upside doon boddemless pail tae force on e stalkies in e spring. A dish o fresh rhubarb, bilet an sweetent an maybe aiten wi a tickie breid – at’s oatcakes, ye ken -, wis supposet tae be gweed for cleanin oot e system, I suppose like pittin new ile intill an ingine, bit I canna say I iver noticet much difference an I niver fanciet e stuff much onywye. Fin ye pat milk ontill’t in yer puddin plate it turned aa soor an I jist winner fit it did tae yer intimmers.
E tap an e far yard palins made twa sides o e hens’ riv, an atween e porch o e hoose an e yard, ere wis a gate intill e riv, made o nettin weer on a frame. Ere wis mair nettin weer at various ither pints tae try tae haad e hens in (e dyeuks an turkeys wisna sae bad), bit ye niver managet aaegither, mair sae fin ere wis a park o ripe corn within sicht.
Tae tell ye e truth, ere wis files fin ye hid tae haad oot as weel’s haad in. We hid a reengy reed coo, an Ayrshire, at geed a lot o milk though it hid ae blin tit, a aiftereffecks o mastitis, an she wis jist e best expert at iver I saa at winnins throwe palins. If she wis grazin in e park alangside an ma mither hid e washin oot – e line wis in e hens’ riv tee – at coo (she niver hid ony name bit ‘e reed coo’) wid gunge aboot ir she won throwe tae get a chaa o e aaprons or sarks or fitiver wis hingin ere. Files she managet it ir she wis noticet. An aafa best! Ye daardna lat ont bairns intill e same park wi er, she’d a gone for em. Jist a richt crafter’s coo, ye micht say, an she hid er faats, bit she geed gweed milk an ay e ither calfie in due time.
E riv ran roon twa sides o e yard, roon e back o e hoose an doon as far as e back o e milkhoose at juttit oot fae e back o e kitchen, alang wi a smaa roomie at hid a biler for fin ye did a big wash, or aan aboot e New Ear I min e smith at bade ere afore’s wid bile a monster clootie dumplin in’t. Here at e back o e hoose ere wis a boortrees, wi eir bonnie sweet floories at e loons likit aye tae snuff at e floorishin time, an syne shiny black berries, bit itherwise es wis a caal, bare kinna nyeuk an we niver played in’t much, haad awa maybe fae cuttin a boortree branch tae mak a pluffer, powkin oot e saft, fite intimmers wi a handy bit o palin weer. Even e hens didna aftern come roon here tae scrape. Ere mith a been an antrin rat tee, an I’ve seen e odd een clammerin aboot a heap o steens gaithert aff e park alangside, haived ower e palin an jist left for aa eternity aside e boortree buss. It wis jist fit ye micht caa deid grun.
Fit wis a lot mair handy wis e big trees in e main bit o e riv. I aye likit tae speel trees, for ae thing. For anither, I eest tae play aboot wi all-farrant electronic, an if ye wintit gweed reception fae yer crystal set wi its cat’s whisker, ye’d tae hae a gweed spread o aerials. I ran weers fae ma up-e-stair bedroom windae tae different trees an throwe at I managet tae get a lot o e world intae ma hans, or tae be mair exact, intae ma lugs throwe a heidphone. I fixed on a tuner, a great big breet o a thing, fae a defunct battery wireless, an maistly it wirkit fin I took e patience tae let it.
Bein young an likely stupit, an bein a bittie teen wi Wild West stories I got tae read fae some o e fairm chiels, wi eir reel Indians an eir tammiehaaks, I took a fancy for throwin an aix at een o e big tree trunks. Aifter a filie, I got rale gweed at garrin e blade stick in. It didna dee e tree much gweed; bit on e ither hand, it cowert it fine an it didna tak lang for e scars tae seal up. An eeseless kinna ploy, bit fit’s nae in e tail o e day?
E riv didna jist haad hens. Inside it wis e watter pump at supplied e hoose. Mony a pailfae I’ve pumpit an cairriet intill e porch, faar een or aften twa pailies o fresh water wis keepit on tap o a tablie, an in anaith wis e orra pail for fool water. Fin es wis full, it hid tae be teemed intill e midden, ir aan it wattert e yard.
E pump wis cast-iron an it wirkit fine maist o e time. Noo an aan e washer geed deen an ma faither hid tae mak a new een oot o a bit o leather in eez souter’s shoppie. Eence ir twice I’ve seen e cover bein liftit for cleanin. Ye’d ging doon on a ledder, an faith it geed a gweed bittie doon. Ye hid tae keep e cover ticht in case a hennie fell in an droont, bit files something got in onywye an hid tae be redd oot. Naebody geed a thocht till e hen’s dirt aboot e moo o’t.
In a hait simmer, it aye geed dry, as eel’s a coo afore calvin, an syne ye got tae ken fit watter mint – ir e lack o’t. We’d tae runk a barra an a big milk-can, een at held a gey fyow gallons, an wheel’t doon e road a gweed quarter o a mile till a concrete cistren at e neesht fairm. Es een wis for keepin beas wattert an it niver geed dry. Ere wis an iron lid on a tap, closed be a bolt, an ye hid yae swing es back on its hinges, syne lean in tae lave oot pailfaes, een at a time. Ye’d tae lowp aff e heid o e cistren, heist e pail doon, haiv’t ower a steen dyke, teem’t intill e can on e barra, syne repeat e dose as aften as required till e can wis foo, an ready for its shoogly run back till e craft.
Ye fairly learnt tae be canny wi e watter. We’d nae sinks an nae drains tae squanner’t on, an iv coorse, nae bathroom. Fit I did wis tae take bilin water oot o e kettle abeen e fire in e reenge intill a basin, tap it up wi a tickie caal tae mak it loo-warm, syne I’d haad up tae ma room, steek e door, an start be washin ma heid. Followin e simple system o wirkin doonhill syne, I’d feenish up wi ma feet, an at e eyn e watter was likely gey din. E basin wis teemed intill e orra pail. It wis maybe jist an apology for a richt dook in a bath, bit fit ye’ve niver kent ye dinna miss, an I can tell ye at I ay felt richt smairt aifter sic a tap-te-tae dichtin. Ye cd aye hae a dook in e burn in e summer, aifter ye’d made a deepenin an cleared oot e water weeds, bit it niver felt e same. Ye wis aye feert somebody wid catch ye.
Onywye, fit’s hygiene? It’s aa jist a maitter o time an place. Ere wid a been e odd thocht aboot it on e craft, bit naebody hid e time tae be ower pernicketty. In my time, e estate at aacht e place pit up a new widden lavvie for’s. It sat aside e moo o e close, in e nyeuk o e widden shed at wis biggit tee till e byre. Aabody comin till e hoose door geed by’t. Afore at, we hid tae use een in e hens’ riv, ir nae jist exactly in e riv bit jist inside an aal henhoose biggit ontill e eyn o e hoose. Es henhoose wis o tarred, timmer planks an a tarred timmer reef tee, sae it wis black a ower, an ye got tarry bubbles an blisters fin e sin wis ower hait. Ye got intill e lavvie throwe a door at wis near ay left open for e hens tae rin oot an in, an for fowk tae gang in tae gaither e eggs, maist o em in nests bit e antrin een on e slopin platform anaith e reests, laid fin a hennie hid gotten excitet an made a mistaak. Ere wis aye some scraichin an flufferin aboot fin ye made a collection, an ye got e cloaker noo an aan at widna meeve an wis mair concerned tae pick yer fingers’n tae let ye gaither e treasures she wis hoordin. Jist on e left inside es door wis anither, made o backs, an a bit rickly, an es let ye intill e aal lavvie. Fit I min is sittin ere, hearkin till e soons o e hennies hard by yer lug, richt contintit fin e gloamin wis comin doon, an noticin e filterin in o fite styoo an bitties o quills an scales throwe e cracks in e dividin waa atween you an e reests. Ere wisna a lot o licht got in an it wisna as gweed for readin in’s e new lavvie.
Ere wis a lot aboot e hens’ riv tae dee wi e life o e craft. E hens laid eir eggs, an ma mither swappit em for groceries fin e van cam roon. Ere maybe wisna muckle lowse siller aboot e place, bit ere wis ay eggs an butter, en ye cd gey near manage wintin pennies. It wis e hens an e kye at keepit’s, ivery bit as much as ma faither’s shop.
Forbye, e hennies aye geed ye a chance o a pot o fine maamie broth. Ere wis twa wyes o deein. Files a hen got oot o e run an ontill e road, ay on e haik for fresh scraps gin ey cd get aff wi’t, an wid get run ower for ey’ve got nae sense fin it comes tae road safety. Ye’d hear a bump an e scraichin, an maybe widna be jist ill-pleased, for ye kent e broth pot wid be on, aifter due plottin an pluckin o fedders an haalin oot o intimmers. Bit files for a Sunday denner, or for e New Year, ye’d be makin hen broth onywye, sae ye’d tae gang intill e riv, an pick a victim for e slachter. Ma mither kent fine foo tae thraa eir necks an gie em a knackie bit she niver wis on for deein’t an at’s ae thing I niver wid tackle. At mint ma faither hid tae dee’t. Him bein a toonser far Aiberdeen, e hidna e nack. He’d tae tak e hannle o a besom, lay’t on e grun, pit e hen’s heck in anaith, tramp on e hannle wi ae fit an pu e legs wi aa eez micht, e wings wirkin meantime in holy terror. E scraichs seen qualled. It wisna e best wye tae dee’t, bit at’s fit e did. An sae we got wir hen broth (we caad it at firther it wis a cock or a hen), an e ither hens in e riv peyed not one iota o attention till e loss o een o eir nearest an dearest.
Aye, e hens’ riv hid a lot tae dee wi e life o e craft.
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Craiters: 06 - E Hens Riv. 2024. In The Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech. Glasgow: University of Glasgow. Retrieved 23 November 2024, from http://www.scottishcorpus.ac.uk/document/?documentid=530.
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