I suppose it all happened in 1916. My father had been discharged from the Army, unfit for duty because of lung damage. He was serving at the Front during World War 1. How, as a Farrier in the Royal Army Service Corps, he managed to get himself in the firing line, I don't know,but his horse was shot and fell on top of him and while he lay there trapped he suffered from the effects of a German gas attack. As a result he was discharged from the Army as being unfit for duty.
Before the outbreak of war he had served his time as a country blacksmith under the tuition of his father who was the blacksmith at Teasses Toll, in Fife. As far as I know they lived in the small village of Ceres, Fife. During my research into my family tree I have discovered from the 1881 census that my grandfather, at the age of 15, was an Apprentice Blacksmith with Robert Bonella, a Master Blacksmith in Dairsie, Fife. He boarded with the Master Blacksmith along with a Journeyman Blacksmith, David Skinner and a fellow apprentice, Andrew Ramsay, aged 17. His father, my great grandfather, William, was also a blacksmith at Teuchats Smithy, as was my great great grandfather, another William, at Craigrothie. All were in the county of Fife on the east coast of Scotland - the part known as East Neuk of Fife. Fife has been called the 'the beggar's mantle, fringed with gold', or sometimes the Kingdom of Fife.
By the time the First World War started my grandfather had graduated from being a blacksmith to farming. His first farm was at Cabbagehall, not far from St Andrews, Fife. He then moved to Nether Lochty, a small farm about two or three miles to the north of Pittenweem, also in Fife. This was an offshoot of the Big Lochty farm. Nether Lochty was rented and I don't know if it belonged to the big farm or was part of a local estate. My father managed to get a job as a blacksmith at the local village smiddy in Arncroach. By all accounts he was very popular in that country area and his younger sister, my Aunt Jean often told me, with a hint of pride in her voice, that he was known as the King of Arncroach. He was a good looking man and probably was popular with the girls!
I'm not sure whether he was called up to the Army or enlisted voluntarily but he was 18 at the outbreak of World War I. After his discharge from the army, my father assisted his father on the farm and, presumably, it was then that he met my mother. My grandfather's family attended Carnbee church which was only about a mile from Lochty. On one of the back pews in the Church the names of some of the young Cunninghams can still be seen carved on it.
Carnbee is what, I suppose, could be called a hamlet, consisting, at that time, of the big farm (Carnbee farm), the Church, the School, the Schoolhouse, the Manse, a few cottar houses and a wee sweetie shop cum Jenny a' thing. I seem to remember the schoolhouse front garden had a huge monkey-puzzle tree in it. The Manse was situated just outside the hamlet at the bottom of a steep road, (School Brae). This led to a small place at a crossroads called Ovenstone. It had one house, a smiddy (a blacksmith's workshop) and a large reservoir. The road then went on southwards towards Ovenstone Hospital, an isolation unit where patients with very contagous diseases were sent, past the 'squeaking gates'. This ws a large gateway to Balcaskie estate and if you stamped on the ground between the gateposts a sort of squeaking sound was heard. Then to Pittenweem approx. two miles from St Monans, on the Fife coast. All that area, now called North East Fife had an abundance of small villages and still has. Arncroach, Craigrothie, Ceres and Teuchats, to name but a few. My forebears all lived in the Craigrothie, Ceres area. I don't know exactly when my grandfather started farming at Lochty, but some of my uncles and aunts must have attended Carnbee school. My grandparents, my father, and all the rest of the Cunningham family are buried in Carnbee churchyard. Now, the school has been converted into a house, the wee shop has gone, but despite that, Carnbee still retains its charm. The Church is still in use. The 'big' farm - Carnbee - is, today (1998) farmed by Ian Carstairs, whose Grandfather, John Carstairs, and my Grandfather, John Cunningham, were very good friends and I can recollect some very pleasant evenings when the families got together.
My mother was the daughter of James Thomson Niven Miller who managed James N. Miller & Sons Ltd. of boat and yacht building fame in St Monans or St Monance, as it was spelt then, it was a very old established firm (1747). My mother was a proficient pianist and had many other talents, including photography using a Kodak folding camera. It was flat compact camera requiring a lid to be opened to access the lens. This was attached to a concertina type case. The lens had to be pulled out on slides so that the it was the correct distance from the film. The camera shutter was operated by what can only be described as a very small hypodermic needle pusher, using the thumb. My mother developed and printed her own photographs. She was artistic in several directions doing pokerwork, which involved burning patterns on wooden objects using an implement, something like an electric soldering iron. She was a keen knitter, doing needlework, crochet and also glass painting. These were some of her talents.
She was also proficient on the piano and had been appointed organist at Carnbee Church. I assume that was where she met my father. It must have been a difficult courtship, as St Monans is at least five miles from Carnbee, and Lochty was about another mile further on. I suppose the only means of transport was by bicycle. I do know that my grandfather had a pony (Beauty) and gig (trap, or two wheeled pony carriage), but I doubt if he would have allowed his son to use that. Anyway, love had its way and they were married. Eventually on 10th.August 1917, I arrived and was baptised by the then minister, the Rev. George Thomson in Carnbee church.
My father had managed to get tenancy of a small cottage, in the middle of a field, at Over Carnbee between Lochty and Carnbee, where we all lived. The cottage has long since been demolished, but I have managed to preserve a snapshot of myself (aged about 9 or 10), standing in front of it.
At
Lochty, with my Grandparents, were two younger brothers (my uncles David and
Alex) and two sisters (aunts Elizabeth (Nan) and Jean) . My aunt Nan was
disabled, probably caused by polio, and was not able to walk well.
Actually I had another uncle who was killed before I was born. He was the
eldest of the family and had falsified his age to join the Army at the outbreak
of World War I.
The small farm could not feed all these mouths, so the plans
were that we would go to Forfar, where my father was to set up business as a
blacksmith. Alas, my parent's plans were not fulfilled.
During the influenza
epidemic of 1918, my father was one of the victims , probably as a result of the damage to his lungs in the war, and hedied on 28th. October 1918.
I was only 14 months old.
This resulted in plans for my future being being changed completely - life is full of uncertainties!
After my father's death, my mother took me to live with her parents in St Monans.They were very good to both of us and I was really brought up by my Granny and Grandpa Miller. They were both wonderful people. I had a sheltered upbringing and am sure could not have done better under any other circumstances. We lived in the family home in Rose Street along with two of my uncles, Willie and Mackie, who eventually got married and left the parental home. My Granny Minnie (pronounced locally – Meenie) was an excellent cook and we ate very well indeed. There was sometimes porridge and always an egg in some shape or form for breakfast. The main meal was in the middle of the day, usually of three courses. The best soup was made every Friday (cleaning day). Boiling beef was used to make the stock for the 'kail' (scotch broth), and it had just about everything in it - turnip (sliced), carrots, peas - the hard variety, barley, onion brussels sprouts, to name but a few. After the kail, the main dish consisted of the boiling beef, it always seemed to have a lot of fat on it, and the turnip slices taken from the soup along with 'chappies' - mashed potatoes and at least one other vegetable. Of course, there was always pudding, more often than not, baked rice. I used to love the brown skin, which formed on top of the dish. My Granny cooked liver, sweetbreads as well as all the other cuts of beef, lamb and pork and of course fish and shellfish mainly partans (edible crabs) or lobsters, all caught locally. On Sunday, it was roast beef with all the trimmings. Sunday lunch was always quite an occasion. A far-off relation, Lizzie Lindsay, known by all as 'Wifie' came home from Church with us to have lunch, I think we called it dinner in those days. I attribute my longevity to the solid foundation of good food I had as a boy, both at St Monans and on the farm. The Lindsay's were connected to us through marriage. My Granny Meenie was a Phillips and her sister, Beatrice, was married to a Thomas Lindsay, who ran a draper's shop in St Monans and all were on very friendly terms
The house at St Monans had a huge garden and in it, instead of the usual garden shed, was a fairly large building, shaped like the prow of a boat, and, of course, it was referred to as 'The Ship'. Inside it consisted of a living area, complete with gas cooker, but no running water, a bedroom with a double bunk bed. In the 'fo'castle' were two typical fishing boat type berths. During the summer months, when she let out her house in Elie to holidaymakers, my Aunt Lizzie and her family; husband Bob Stevens, my cousins, son David and daughter Minnie lived in it. When it was vacant, my pals and myself used it often as a play place during inclement weather and, at Halloween, when 'The Ship' was unoccupied, we used to 'dook' for apples', using a wash tub, half filled with water with the apples floating on top. More often than not one had to get the apple right to the bottom of the tub to get a bite at it. Another ploy at Halloween time was to try to bite a scone, covered with treacle, which was dangling on the end of a piece of string. In both cases, the hands were held firmly behind your back.
Immediately behind the 'Ship' were other outbuildings, a henhouse with a small henrun. My grandfather kept a few hens and of course, we were self sufficient for eggs and the occasional cockerel for a meal. Beyond the henhouse was a building that I suppose would be called a garden shed. As I grew older it became my favourite 'workplace'. Beyond that again was the washhouse with its washboiler, the water in it was heated by means of a fire underneath it. There was always plenty of fuel for the fire as the washhouse was quite near to the huge steam boiler that provided steam for steaming planks (to make them pliable) for the boatyard.The odd job man, 'Old Keith', always had a good supply of wooden blocks to keep the boiler fire going. The washhouse had its complement of washing tubs and barrels, 'dolly' sticks and scrubbing boards. Doing the washing was really hard work in those days.
Rose Street, where the family house was, had no roses but was so called because two sandstone gate pillars at the entrance to a garden at the end of street had roses carved on them. It was, and still is a narrow and quite short street, complete with a 'pump'; at least that is what we called it. It was a public water supply as many houses had no running water in those days. There were several pumps like these scattered throughout the town. Adjoining my grandfather's house was another house called Ivybank, which I think was the original family home as it had a more direct connection to the boatyard. Actually the two houses had at one time been separate buildings, but, before my time, an addition to my grandfather's house had been made that joined the houses together.
This addition allowed a scullery (it was too small to be called a kitchen, and a bathroom to and an additional bedroom to be provided. The garret part of the extension became my bedroom. My great-aunt Bella (my grandfather's sister and a spinster) lived in the house next door, she had been a schoolteacher and spent her retirement actively engaged in the BWTA (British Women's Temperance Association).
Every year she ran a concert on New Years day for the benefit of the local pensioners, appropriately called ' The Old Folk's Tea', where they were provided with a meal and given a poke (paper bag) of 'goodies' and a half-pound packet of tea, on leaving. I was involved in the concert party at a very early age and this photo shows me, a very shy small boy with my velvet suit and pearl buttons alongside my great aunt.
My pre-school days are only a hazy recollection. The highlights of which were being taken to my grandfather's farm on occasions to visit my paternal grandparents.
School Days 1922 to 1935
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