Banff & Macduff when you were a kid

05/06/2026

It's Friday. It's 5'o'clock and it's!!!..........the official weekend starter. Time to get you demob happy teeth into our Weekly Test of Time. Going back to June 1978 this week. Did you get the answers right for Mikes Teazer questions and guess the year? Remember to get involved in Friday mornings......and no Googling, we want to see your reactionary responses to the 'Teazer', answers right, wrong, funny or with a wee story of what you remember of the the times, every Friday forenoon 😀
Have a great weekend All 🌞😀🌞🍷🥂🎉🥃🍻🥂🍦🍰🍦🍿................

04/06/2026

Friday Test of Time Teazer!!!!!!!
Mike has prepared some great clues and questions for us .........let's see your answers ( No Googling mind) 😀

“Right folks we’re here again. As usual a few clues and a couple of questions relating to this week’s Test Of Time chart. Top twenty will be posted later today.

CHART WISE
Songs this week include “Night Fever”, “Love Is In The Air”, “Come To Me” and “What A Waste”.

YOUR QUESTIONS
???The Bee Gees have three songs in the top ten. At no.5 Is Yvonne Elliman’s “If I Can’t Have You”. The Bee Gees also penned her first hit two years previous. Anyone remember the title???

???”Because The Night” was Patti Smith’s only top twenty hit. Co written by???

WORLD NEWS
Another World Cup year (so that narrows it down). Forget Willie Johnston, forget Ally McLeod’s meltdown. What about Archie Gemmill’s goal!!!

LOCALLY
Disco Inferno. Some of the mobile discos playing locally were Shamona, Syd’s, Loco and Vic Flett. Any memories?

BUT WHAT WAS THE YEAR
Answers here from 3PM. Until next week, take care.
Mike”.

04/06/2026

Dr Barclay remembers the visit of the, yet to be, King Edward VII, to Banff in 1883.
(From a series of articles published in the Banffshire Journal in 1933)

"Not a few notable events have disturbed the classic calm of this ancient and royal burgh of Banff during these past fifty years [1883 to 1933]. Curiously enough, the [18] "eighties" would seem to have been most prоlific of such red-letter days, most notable of all, perhaps, being the visit paid by the Heir to the Throne (afterwards King Edward VII) to his friend and future son-in-law, the Duke of Fife, in 1883. What a flutter the event caused among Banff's ever loyal citizens, every man-Jack (and lady-Jill) vieing with onch other in showing their affectionate loyalty to Queen Victoria's genial son.

Arriving by special train at the Harbour Station, the Prince received a tremendous welcome. Bunting, greenery, tapestry and gaudy trappings of every description made a brave and successful attempt to shame into warmth and colour the drab November day, while no fewer than five triumphal arches spanned the royal route to Duff House gate way. A week's pheasant shooting ensued, the party to meet the august guest embracing such celebrities as the old Duke of Richmond and Gordon, the Earl of Seafield, Lord Charles Beresford, Lord and Lady Ribblesdale, &c. A grand ball, to which many local poople were invited, provided a fitting finale to what was rocognised as one of the most memorable events in the annals of the burgh."

04/06/2026

And another local 'Dash of Doric' from Dennis (He's here all week 😀)

"An Aberchirder shop assistant was heard discussing how hard it was to get by on a shop assistant's salary and was drawing much sympathy and empathy from one elderly customer, who said: 'I ken fit it's like. In my young day, I'd an affa job makkin ends meet.'

'I'm nae sae much worriet aboot makkin the ends meet,' said the girl, 'though it wid be real fine if they could get close enough ti wave at een anither noo and again.'' 😂

04/06/2026

The gentleman responsible for much of the content posted on this page during this week, Dr William Barclay late of the Banffshire is covered in this excellent piece in the link below to the Banff and Macduff Heritage Trail website. ( Please go in to their website and have a right good 'rummage aboot', there's some really good stuff in there)

William Barclay died aged 82 in 1951. He spent 65 years on the staff of the Banffshire Journal, most of them as editor. In fact the Banffie had only two editors in a hundred years. In 1941 the University of Aberdeen gave him an honorary LLD. With no disrespect to modern journalists, that would not h...

04/06/2026

Bustling Banff Harbour life in the 1870's/80's, recalled by Dr W Barclay. Based on a series of articles in the Banffshire Journal during 1933.

Maritime matters in Banff in the 1880's

"In conversation recently [1933] with an old Banff resident, in course of which he fell to be wailing the stagnation that had now overtaken the harbour and all its oldtime activities, he gave it as his unshakable conviction that if matters had been capably and energetically handled when the days of the sailing ship were on the wane, Banff today would have had a different commercial and industrial tale to tell. However that may be, certain it is that a most depressing change has come over the seafaring life of the town, as of not a few other towns similarly situated. Fifty years ago [1880's] our harbour hummed with all the life and bustle of a thriving seaport town, with trimlooking vessels continually coming and going, and the Seatown thronged with sailors and their wives and families.

Banff Harbour A Hive of Industry

Fishcuring in the autumn, with three or four firms going all out, added considerably to the stir. The harbourmaster's job was then no bed of roses, I can assure you, and old Francie Booker had his work cut out for him in preserving the pence when questions of berthing precedance led, as they frequently did, to heated altercation, if to nothing worse. Shipbuilding, too, both at the harbour in the hands of John Watson & Son, and at Duffus Hillock by the brothers John and William Geddie, was at its zenith. These rival hives of industry, employing anything around seventy men and lads, fairly buzzed with activity, the clamour, especially when caulking was in progress, reminding one, in a minor way, of a day on Clydeside.

And what all this enterprise meant to the Ropeworks, in the energetic hands of Henry Munro, needs not to be emphasised. So great indeed did the press become upon its resources for the production of sails, ropes, &c., that the works had to be doubled in size. Painters like wise shared in the boom; while George Cumming's smiddy at the foot of the Jappy Brae had more than a hot time in keeping pace with the demands made upon its brawny staff.

'Jolly' Banff Ship Builders

Many a handsome schooner, each with its realistic and beautifully coloured figurehead -some of them real works of art was launched from these busy yards. Yet, although laying down a fresh keel every few months, you must not imagine that it was all work and no play with these eident carpenter lads. They had their times of jollifiention, the invariable custom being, after every launch, for all the associated tradesmen to hold a spree in the evening. The scene of the revel was the old Artillery Hall on the Station Brae, and after a supper, sing-song and dance it was no unusual thing for some of the fresher spirits to sally forth for the express purpose of engaging in a bit of town-painting ("Red" of course the favourite colour). As a sample of what happened on these occasions, it is on record that one of these hilarious bands, happening to fall in with one of the policemen, known by the sobriquet of "Partan-Back," did so far outrage the dignity of the law as to tie its representative to a lamp-post, from which unhappy plight he was only released some hours later. Needless to add, that happened in the days before the county constabulary had established its headquarters in Banff!

Banff Schooners, [Tall Ships]

Amongst the fleet of gallant schooners belonging to or trading with the port were many whose names linger in the memory as do those of departed friends. All, without exception, I believe, have now made their last call and furled sail forever. Here are some of their names, jotted down at random: Dantzic, Deveron, Vistula, Lord Clyde, Lothair, Sovereign, Chase, Blossom, Воуne, Ruby, Volant, Fleetwing, Cairnrankie, Norseman, John Watson, Andrew Longmore, Gladstone, Constance, Mary, Isabella, Fair Wind, Flower o' Banff, Baron Skene, Star of Peace, Lady Ida, Countess, Guiding Star, and Swift; while across the water, the Tollo, Tarlair, Lass o' Doon, Paragon, and Alice are names still cherished by many.

Banff Sailors Home From Sea

The appearance presented by the harbour in winter, with all the Baltic traders laid up until the spring, would be difficult for the younger generation to visualise today: while the corner of "The Barns," with all the sailors home from the sea, full of strange oaths and still stranger stories, was daily the scene of great animation. And how could these yarns fail to be thrilling and highly flavoured when spun by such past masters at "swinging the lead" as Robbie Clark, Geordie Macdonald, "Swackie" Turner, Jim Mackie, Dick Barlow, "Auld Chaw" Bolton and other prize romancers! What though some of their adventures in Baltic ports might have landed them in trouble with the modern censor, they were none the less entertaining on that account. Delectable to***co that never "passed the Customs" was consumed by the yard a stick of sweet to***co from the Baltic in those days tasted as a nectarine gift of the gods!-and all was joviality and good humour. Forgotten for the nonce was the sailorman's perpetual grouse: unhappy visions of "peasoup 21 times a week" disturbed not his feather bed slumbers; while to crown all the winter's joyous sociality, came that glorious night of nights, the annual Sailors' Soiree!

The Annual Sailors' Soiree!

That was a really great night, with Rev. "Johnnie" Murker as perpetunt chairman. His opening romarks, and the yearly statement anent the Shipwrecked Mariners' Society by that true sailor's friend, William Watson, were usually listened to with due sconce and decorum; but I'm afraid the other clerical speakers had a hard task to keep up their end amid the babel that invariably ensued. The best of humour was rampant, however the tars in the highest of spirits-and, punctuated by the frequent explosion of "a blawn-up baggie," [bagpipes?], the whole function went with a bang, or to be strictly correct, a series of bangs! Gone, with the sailor, is the sailors' soiree. Although the fishermen tried for a few years to carry on, the meeting lost its zest, and has been done these many years."

04/06/2026

Kindly shared by Dennis Paterson, particularly for Dave Ritchie

"Those were the days! Dave Lawrence's band gets into the swing of things at the Bakers' Baill at Macduff Town Hall in 1954. Dennis's uncle, Jack Paterson, on trumpet; his dad, Harry, on tenor sax; Abby MacLeod on drums; Davy Lawrence on alto sax but can anyone r member the name of the lady pianist?"

04/06/2026

Brandon Fair day in Banff, the twice yearly feeing markets and fair held on Low Street, recalled by Dr W Barclay in his reminiscences of life in Banff in 1870's and 1880's. From a series of articles in the Banffshire Journal during 1933.

"There must still be a good many residents in [1933] Banff who remember Old Sandy Mackintosh, "The Bishop," whose old book stall was such a familiar feature of the Plainstones for many a day. Seated at his stall, beaming benignly through his horn-rimmed spectacles, Sandy was ever a most courteous and helpful cicerone to all in search of book bargains. An omniverous reader himself, he had assimilated a vast amount of polyglot information which made a talk with him always an interesting experionce.

On half-yearly feeing market days, however, literature gave place to lollipops, and Sandy's stall bore (for these occasions only) a heterogenous assortment of sweet things for the delectation of a more youthful clientele. Place of honour among these allurements was his far famed market speciality, gingerbread horses and mannies, which have even been glorified in juvenile song. The market over, however, all youthful interest in Sandy and his wares faded for another six months. His bookstall was a most useful institution, and one much missed by many people after his death.

Market Day.

What a melancholy change has come over "Brannan Fair" in the course of these past years. "The merry, merry market day," at one time a red-letter day indeed in the calendar of youth, is now, in common with similar events throughout the country, but a pitiful shadow of its former self. For a few weeks previous to this great gala day in May the subject uppermost in every schoolboy's mind had, I'm afraid, but little reference to anything connected with the "Three R's." That troublesome trio were pro. tem. assigned a back seat, all energies being bent on the speedy accumulation of wealth. The question of questions became, "Foo muckle hae ye to the market?" and when the long looked for day arrived, with the fruits of weeks' scraping and hoarding in pocket, all juvenile roads led to Low Street, lined from end to end with stannies heaped with all that the heart of youth could desire, Jock was expected to treat his Jean to a "fairin'," consisting of "half-a-pun o' conversation sweeties"; while in the evening similar tribute was paid to local Juliets by their adoring Romeos. Some indeed of the more favoured of the fair have been known to bear home with them as many "bags of sweeties" as kept them munching for the next half year. That commendable custom, with the decline of the market, is now a thing of the past. Girls can, and do, buy their own sweets now!

Of course there was always an abundance of shows, ranging from "The Living Head without a Body" to good old Simon's Menagerie with its five waggons of evil smelling animals, including an infirm old lion which Simon himself, by dint of much whip cracking and strident shouting, tried to persuade to jump through a fiery ring, much to the edification of a wide eyed audience of small boys. [Simons Bellevue Menagerie attended many feeing markets across the northeast in the 1870's. A fairly small scale show of its type. They had a small brass band playing in the front of the show, charged adorable admission prices and were popular in the towns and villages they visited according to press reports]. A frequent attender was the evergreen Duckworth, from Aberdeen, with his velocipedes (a novelty then), which the riders themselves had to propel round and round a grooved track at the expenditure of much puff and perspiration.

Engrossed in such enthralling pursuits, time passed all unheeded, and not until the last shot in the locker had been fired and the last ounce of energy dissipated, did the weary revellers dream of striking the homeward trail Now all is changed. With the exception of a few cheap-jacks, there is but little to lure the copper from the pockets of the canny-going "Geordie," and when his business is completed, he is off home on his bike, leaving Low Street to its wonted quietude-and the policeman with never a case!

03/06/2026

A saint amongst the sinners on the Gallowhill of the 1880's, it would seem? More from Dr William Barclay's colourful reminiscences of Banff of the 1880's which were published in the Banffshire Journal in 1933.........

"And here a more delicate subject may be briefly alluded to. There were in existence at that time not a few houses of ill repute in the town, mostly in the Gallowhill and Deveronside localities, to which the local "rakes" habitually resorted. This was notorious, but after one of these Gallowhill or**es had culminated in tragedy-in which the "hostess," known to all as Paddy Brown, was burned to death-a marked diminution in this particular form of debauchery took place. Fifty years ago, [1880's] drunken brawls in that district were of frequent occurrence, but that's all changed now. Indeed, were some of the old-time denizens permitted to revisit the glimpses of the moon, I'm afraid the Gallowhill's modern air of staid respectability would give them a severe shock: they might even be forgiven for imagining that, through some unlucky mischance, they had somehow drifted on to an alien planet, and sighing for "the grace of a day that is dead, and the sound of a voice that is still", have beat a sad and speedy retreat to the shades whence they had emerged.

"The Bosun."

Among the worthies who had their home in the Gallowhill some sixty years ago was one known by the name of "Bosun" Tennant, a retired Navy man. Here was a tough nut indeed, one of the saltiest among old salts, and at "splicing the mainbrace" could hold his own with the best. It was common knowledge that he and Annie, his wife, were unequally yoked together, for, in direct contrast to her rather wayward spouse, she found her chief delight in revivals and other forms of religious excitement. The abode of this pair was frequently the scene of great revival "love feasts," at which Annie's "lambs," as she fondly called them, were reported to be made partakers of the delectable dish of "tatties an' herrin'," but at which the unfortunate "Bosun" was assigned the unheroic role of "awful example," or "skeleton at the feast"-much, no doubt, to his disgust.
At last tragedy came to break the bond. The great Moody and Sankey revivalist campaign in the South naturally enlisted Annie's keenest sympathy and so she actually made a pilgrimage to Edinburgh to hear the famous evangelists. On the return journey, she figured as one of the victims in the Manuel Junction railway disaster of 1874 [more commonly known as the Bo'ness Junction Train Crash, which claimed 16 lives, including that of Annie] -and the Bosun then stood a free man!

Not for long, however. Bosun the celibate life held no charms -and he soon consoled himself with another partner.
This time a charmer in her early 'teens' and known on the Macduff side of the water as "The Langman Queen." The nuptuals of the little gnarled old man and this girl created something of a senantion, and furnished occasion for an additional verse to a popular song of the period,

"I wish my grannie saw ye;"

"Bosun Tennant an' the Langman Queen They've gane aff tae Aiberdeen;
Sic a sicht was never seen-I wish my grannie saw them!"

The fates, however, proved unkind to poor old Bosun, for he did not long survive his matrimonial jaunt to the Granite City, giving up the ghost soon after.

03/06/2026

A couple of Banff pub stories of 1880's Banff are recalled by the anonymous author, who we now think might well have beeen Dr William Barclay, editor of the Banffshire Journal in a series of reminiscences published in the paper during 1933.

Publicans and Sinners.

Although not occurring in the same time as Banff's salubrious religious revival, I am here tempted to regale an amusing incident in which two young fellows well known to me took part.
One afternoon, feeling in need of refreshment, they entered a well-known pub, at the foot of Bridge Street [possibly the Deveron Inn or Royal Oak, as the St Andrews was not yet a pub, The Crown might have been temperence?]. Thinking to be funny, asked for "two pints of beer and two savages." Gruff old Boniface, without comment, departed , to fuifil the order. Returning presently, he slammed the bottles down on the table in front of the startled pair and barked out, t "There ye are! Drink up yer drink an' oot o' this: we keep nae savage woemin here!" Discomfited and speechless, the revellers drank up their beer with all speed, and, like the tent-folding Arabs, silently stole away. And yet, truth to tell, all the poor innocents wanted to accompany their glass of ale was a couple of perfectly innocuous sandwiches!

Some of those old "vintners" I remember as truly "men of substance." Two of them at least, round and rubicund, might have sat tο Dickens for his portrait of honest old John Willet of the Maypole Inn in "Barnaby Rudge."
I am afraid you will look in vain in Banff today [1933], for the publican peers of James Watt of the Railway Inn, and old Bill Marsdon (father of the Inte V.S.) in Castle Street. The latter, moreover, was something of a character, with an explosive, staccato manner of speech. I can recall one occasion when two very thirsty but impecunious souls attempted to "touch" the veteran vintner for a modest quencher on tick. Bill, however, was not built on tenderfoot lines, there was "nothing doing," and after glaring at them in speechless, almost apoplectic horror for a minute, exploded thus: "Tick, tick, by God: tick, tiok! I'd rather break stones by the roadside with a wooden hammer than seek tick from any man!" With which sturdy declaration of independence as "epitaph," we may well leave these worthy old "vendors of the vine" to their last long sleep.