Archive in a Pandemic A-Z: R is for...

 RESTORATIVES

We are quite late with this installation of Archive In A Pandemic and it is probably because this stage of the pandemic has been exhausting us a little and we are still short staffed after the retirement of The Fonds.

We were in need of a restorative and found one in the archives today in the Watt of Breckness and Skaill collection. This document written on January 3rd 1737 is a letter from Thomas Baikie, Kirkwall to his son. He begins the letter with his sorrow that his son and wife have been ill and proceeds to share the recipe for a restorative 'if you be troubled with a cough and fear a decay'.

We could read most of the ingredients, but some of the words stumped us a little (highlighted below), so do please help us out if you can and then we can all brew up lovely restorative potions against cough and decay...

Orkney Archive Reference D3/386 - click to enlarge

To make the tincture, Thomas advised his son to take 'a chapin (about a half-pint) of brandy, 4 ounces of pepper, 1/2 ounce of  ___?____ , 1/2 ounce of cinamon, a handful of jags (thorns), a handful of the tops of spearmint, and a handful of the tops of wormwood.'

The method he gives is to 'braise the spices, cut the herbs, infuse them into the brandie, put into an earthen bottle, which will contain honie ____?______ 

This mixture was to be gently heated, 'till by the godes you bring it to a little boil',  left for 24 hours and then half a spoonful taken with milk in the morning or 3 or 4 drops in a dram of whisky.

You may find wormwood and earthen bottles hard to come by so we could conceivably replace the cinnamon and honey mixture with cinnamon buns and just have it with brandy or whisky. Can't hurt.

20 Days of Orkney Trees #5

An older archive today, which illustrates how important trees can be for shelter...

click to enlarge

In 1769, three men were taken to Kirkwall Sheriff Court by Robert Grahame of the Breckness Estate, Skaill, for the 'pulling of Bent or Broom or Juniper' which were 'the natural fence of the adjacent countree (sic) to the said hills'


It was alleged that George Moar, Thomas Linklater and James Hackland, all servants to local landowners, 'did upon the 8th day of June... go to the said hill and there cut and destroyed the surface or scree of the said hill with (?) or hoes, spades or other instruments.'


Without the protection of the juniper fence, Robert Grahame was worried about sand from the nearby bay of Skaill being blown across his lands. He was seeking £5 in damages and a further £5 in legal costs from each defendant. That was a lot of money in those days.


George, Thomas and James did not deny the crime and had to pay 10 shillings each in legal costs. They also had to spend 3 days in Kirkwall tollbooth, i.e., the town JAIL.


This sentence was hung upon the door of the local church so that 'no-one (could) pretend ignorance.'


Crumbs.




The sentence.

There is no mention of what the men took the juniper for. The tree is known in Scottish folklore for warding off devils and witches, but you can also make gin from it. You can also carve it or burn it to smoke food.

Archive Reference: SC11/5/1769/7
Information taken from the Woodland Trust website.

Drunk Bees

We were most amused to read this account of liquored-up bees:

Orkney Herald - 24th February 1897

 How on earth does a bumble-bee show 'remorse and disgust'? Texting last night's companions to apologise for their behaviour? Recycling their cans and bottles under cover of darkness? Commencing a juicing diet in order to detox?


Bombus lapidaries does none of these things. The lush.


Perhaps you are wondering when Humblebees became Bumblebees? Well wonder no more readers... wonder no more:


https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2010/aug/01/humblebee-bumblebee-darwin


I do not know why drunk bees surprised us so. In Orkney of yore, even the babies were at it.

Baby Booze

We have written before about Orkney's strong temperance movement and described the central part that alcohol played in a traditional Orkney wedding.




We were also amused recently when we discovered from the 2nd Statistical Account of Scotland that the island of South Ronaldsay had 16 inns in the 1840s, although "seven would be sufficient" according to the disapproving author.




So we knew that Orcadians of yore enjoyed their drink. It was with great horror, however, that we read Reminiscences of an Orkney Parish by John Firth which was published in 1920.


The enquiry which occasioned our perusal of this book was an enquiry about pregnancy in 19th century Orkney. We turned to the chapter entitled 'Birth' which begins:

"It was no uncommon occurrence at an accouchement for the mother and all her attendants to be the worse for drink",

and continues:

" One does not wonder that the Orcadian of the time possessed an inherent craving for strong drink, for the first thing given to a baby was a spoonful of toddy, and a dose of the same stimulant was believed to be an infallible cure for all his infantile ailments."

This is then followed by a story of 'groggy' midwives laying a baby thought to be stillborn on a cupboard shelf before more sober visitors discover that the baby is just feeling the effects of their mother's imbibing.




 We are then told of a  drunken baby falling out of their coverings on the way to their own christening (they have been given some toddy to keep them quiet in the church) and being discovered in a ditch by passers-by who then have to chase the inebriated family members who are still merrily marching up to the kirk with their empty shawl, none the wiser.




As Firth says earlier on in the book:




 "the need for some stimulant was much felt by the Orcadian peasant, whose lot forbade him tasting freely even the few pleasures and comforts obtainable in those days"





...and it is later pointed out that home-brewed ale was really the only available substitute for milk during the winter months. Still though... drunk babies.




No wonder these folk were so convinced they were seeing ghosts and witches and elves all the time... they were all just really drunk. All the time.

Orkney Archive Advent Calendar - Boats & Booze

Today's Advent archive is an 1805 account taken from the Balfour & Trenabie Collection for three transactions: kelp, a boat of peats and 'brewing Christmas ale for servants and cooking dinners for people.'


Orkney Archive Reference: D2/19/5

French Knittin' In the USA, French Knittin' in the USA-hey!

Last week the archive staff had one of our legendary nights out. We chugged cups of tea, slammed  some veggie burgers and nailed a bunch of  homebakes before staggering home way, way, way, past nine o'clock. Say, tennish?


We talked shop, we talked Bake Off, we set the world of carrot cakes to rights (walnuts or no? Discuss...) until, as it invariably does when one is 'partying hard', the conversation ended up at the topic of French knitting.


It turned out every one of us had spent vast swathes of our youth bent over a wooden doll with a tube through her middle and four pins in her head, tongues firmly between our teeth as we 'knitted' great big worms of wool which protruded from the dolly's nether regions and coiled down to the floor. For what and for why we asked ourselves? What was the purpose of this bizarre pursuit? Who needs boxes of woollen worms and what could anyone ever do with such things?


The Orcadian (as usual) came to the rescue:

Taken from a 1926 copy of the Orcadian. Ten years of looking through these things and the casual use of a word like 'cripple' is still really jarring.

The next week's issue offered readers the opportunity to make a fabric version of a cat who's just remembered that he's not done something really, really important:

Happy Birthday Dear Get Dusty!

 

 

Archiver: Dusty!

Dusty: Archiver!

Archiver: It was the occasion of our 7th online birthday on September the 3rd and we did nothing to celebrate!

Dusty; That's not true... I've never seen you so drun...:

Archiver: ...(hastily) I meant an online celebration that our dear readers could enjoy.

Dusty: Birthday Bonanza time.

Archiver: Indeed. And maybe that plan that shows how close the Peedie Sea used to be to Broad Street?

Dusty: What else?

And thus, dear readers you find both Dusty and myself clad in our white vests, bandanas and blue jeans alternating between straddling the archive front desk to treat the customers to our best Bruce Springsteen 'guitar faces' and gently crooning to them Julio Eglasias-style as they (quite irritably, actually) get on with their work. Happy birthday 'The Boss!' Happy Birthday Julio!


Later on, we hope to put the fear of God into them by making spooky noises in the attic or leaping out of the map chests at them (in honour of birthday girl, Most Haunted's Yvette Fielding) and then reading them a lovely, calming story to soothe their poor nerves in the manner of Floella Benjamin who will also be celebrating today.


That is the plan anyway. And here is another plan:

As you can see, the library and archive building stands on reclaimed ground as the Peedie Sea's boundary used to be at the end of the gardens of Broad Street.

This plan dates from 1827 and you can see in the plan below that it had been this way since at least 1766:

Orkney Archive reference D8/E/19 (part)

Crying for County Show Cakes

We like cakes and we like the County Show.




Imagine our delight therefore, when we found a copy of James Flett & Sons' bakery production list for the 1979 show.




We are very noble at Orkney Archive and, although it is every member of staff's dearest wish to spend tomorrow whirling about in a tea-cup, drunk, with cream and jam all over our faces, in the company of tractors, two of us will be manning the archive desk.




Just... manning the desk. With no cakes. No booze. No tea cups. No tractors. Just crying.


We may have complained about this before...




Orkney Archive Reference D122/6/1

County Show Woe

We are pretty good to our customers really. While the rest of the county is drunk and 'tasting' cakes in Bignold park, we valiantly maintain our posts at the archive desk just in case someone gets tired of a field full of home-brew, home-bakes and waltzers.

It is County Show day again in Orkney and, whilst we would normally be crying into our documents because we're not eating a cake next to a pony, we feel slightly less short-changed today. Because it is raining. Lots.

The same thing happened in 1950:

 

 

 

Psssst, winter is coming...

A Biscuit That Can Get You Drunk. FINALLY...

You know how it's really annoying that you can't pour wine down your throat whilst simultaneously cramming your face with biscuits? Problem over readers, problem solved:

Wine biscuits. Perfect for surreptitious staff-room drunkenness and for drowning your sorrows whilst wearing your over-sized mourning clothes.

Advert taken from 1940 edition of Peace's Orkney Almanac.

"A POX UPON YOU!!....."

...Is the curse we have been using of late after finding this amusing letter addressed to Alexander Watt, merchant in 1768.

In it, Robert Sandison expresses amazement that a young woman of their acquaintance is to marry a 'Parched, sapless soldier' saying 'a pox upon you young cow hearted fellows to let so many pretty charmers slip into the arms of old, worn out powder.'

He then bemoans his hangover: ''must now draw to a conclusion my Caput (head) being in great disorder after a Debauch last night...some of us Youngsters had a private dance with some ladies of our acquaintance & after seeing them home we had a severe frolick...' What does THAT mean I wonder?


Orkney Archive Reference D1/437/1

I KNEW it!

"Pure" you say? Increases Muscular Strength? Gives Physical Endurance and Staying Power?

Quick friends; to the microfilm readers to search for proof that wine raises IQ levels and makes you a groovier dancer permanently, not just post-quaff!

 There could also be evidence that cakes are not 'fattening' and 'artery clogging' but 'invigorating to the digestive tract' and 'advisable to eat in large quantities.'

Get to it!

The Aftermath...

Orkney Library and Archive was a shameful sight yesterday morning. The corridors were strewn with burst balloon skins, torn streamers and empty wine bottles, two members of staff were discovered passed out amongst the Mills and Boons and a sad pair of underpants swung slowly from a light fitting.

At least that would be the case if we were not nerdy librarian/archivists who did most of their tidying up on Saturday night. It was Alison's leaving do and the staff gathered to eat, drink and make merry. Homebakes were produced, speeches were made and gifts were presented.

It was a very pleasant, if emotional, evening. Anyone who claims they didn't feel a little moist around the eyes during Alison's speech was either crying a river inside, has a heart of cold, cold steel or is a liar.

Plenty of pictures were taken on the night but it is yet to be established whether they can ever be shown in public. Instead, this post is illustrated with two photos of a staff leaving do which took place just after the Second World War. These pictures were taken when the catering facilities at Lyness were closing so it was a leaving do for all of the staff.

It looks pretty similar to Saturday night's do except we didn't have any hats and they don't seem to have limbo dancing dogs as waiters.

Photographed by: J.W. Sinclair.

Dispatches From The Summer Assistant #7.5

A visitor to our archives has kindly drawn my attention to some interesting records. As it is the weekend, it seemed the perfect time to share these with you. He is interested in alcohol policy and found some interesting records on the argument on temperance in Stromness.

In 1921, Stromness became "dry", meaning that alcohol was banned. This was later put to the vote and the ban was repealed. The printed notices connected with the local veto poll held in Stromness in November 1947 (D1/439) are interesting because they show both sides of what appears to have been a heated debate. They also show that electors were asked to reflect on a range of issues, including crime and the economy. They had to vote for the Continuance Resolution (remaining the same) or Repeal Resolution (allowing a return to licencing).

For Continuance:



For Repeal:





For more information on temperance in Orkney click here.

We Are Closed!

We are all at the Dounby Show today, liquored up and full of homebakes. Normal service shall resume tomorrow.

...and there will be wine...

'Gone With the Wine' - a world tour in booze and books, shall take place tonight from 5pm - 7pm. It is what it sounds like, there will be books and there will be wine, two of the best things in the world I'm sure most people would agree (closely followed by sandwiches and tea.)

This event provides the perfect opportunity to be 'a drunk in a library' without the usual unflattering accouterments of poor personal hygiene, skip chic and carrier bags full of loose crisps and biscuits.

Christ-mas do do do, push pineapple, shake a tree...

It's the Library and Archive festive drinks tonight.

Yes. Tonight we shall drink, dance and be merry. Booze shall be downed, congas will be led and morals shall be cast loosely aside as we spill wine, straddle photocopiers and make inappropriate passes at each other. Our office party will make Sodom and Gomorrah look like an episode of Sesame Street.

Photographs of the debauchery* will be posted on Monday.















*Which, of course, will actually be photos of a perfectly pleasant, civilised and tastefully lit soiree ending no later than 7pm. Don't worry tax payers!

Booze Ban

It is tempting to think that binge drinking and concerns about its effects on society are a modern phenomenon.

However, the second half of the nineteenth century and early years of the twentieth century saw great efforts in Orkney, and indeed the rest of Britain, to stamp out the 'demon drink'.

Good Templar associations conceived along Masonic lines complete with rituals, costumes and passwords sprung up all over the county and Temperance hotels were situated throughout Kirkwall and Stromness. The Albert Hotel was a temperance venue and nearly every Parish had at least one Good Templar Lodge including the Emblem of Love Lodge in Holm, the Star of the East Lodge in Deerness; the Maeshowe Lodge in Stenness and the Noltland Lodge of Westray.

The stated object of the Temperance league was "the entire abolition of the drinking system" and much of the dedicated literature quotes alcohol related death and crime statistics in much the same manner as newspapers and websites do today. Indeed, Royal Commission reports were ordered on the situation and articles bemoaning the damage being done to the nations health, mental acuity and economy by 'the greatest evil' appeared in the local and national press with great frequency.

In 1920, the first Local Veto Polls took place. The results ensured that Stromness and Holm became 'dry' parishes, with no alcohol license at all, and Kirkwall's license was 'Limited.' Reactions to this were mixed. The Orkney Herald carried a regretful obituary for 'Mr Johnnie Walker' claiming that 'his demise has left a vacant place in the hearts (and the throats) of a host of his admirers and friends, both open and secret...' Some felt that other parishes deserved to go dry as a 55% share of the vote was required to carry a no license decision, meaning that some areas where the majority had voted to be dry remained licensed.

It must be noted that there was a great reduction of crime reported by the police post Veto Polls and various statistics to this effect were brandished by the No License campaigners whenever a reversal was threatened.

Stromness was officially dry until 1947 whereas Holm did not reverse their decision until 1975.

Information taken from: Orkney Herald, 5/01/1921, 1/06/1921, 29/11/1922, 14/11/1923.

The History of Stromness by George S. Robertson

Various Good Templar pamphlets and journals.

Black Building

The demolition of the 'Black Building', Orkney's war-time communications hub, has begun this week. It has been a controversial decision for some who view the old RAF building as an irreplaceable piece of Kirkwall's history.

For years, small efforts had been made by members of the public to prevent the deterioration of the objects and papers still left in the vacant rooms and we have a very small collection of official (blank) forms and jotters as well as an annotated OS map in the archive. Empty buildings do not take long to destroy themselves, however.

But does something still have to be physically present to serve as a reminder of the past?

Before demolition began, the entire building was laser scanned by Historic Scotland so that a 3-dimensional model can be made, even when the original no longer exists. The Royal Commission for Ancient and Historical Monuments of Scotland (or RCAHMS) hold plans, and photographs of exteriors, interiors, building details and aerial views:
HERE

Surely it is the information that counts, especially when any atmosphere of a bustling communications hub must have disappeared as soon as the damp infiltrated and mould, moss and mice took up residence?