The euphoria of the millennial celebrations didn’t linger long in the fishing community of Lochinver.
As the last hangovers dissolved, the cry of “sold” saw the last boxes of fish head to the last lorry to leave the last quayside auction in Lochinver. The loaders shed their oilskins for the last time, went for their last after work pint and that was that. The pivotal act in a commercial tradition dating back centuries took its last bow on a cold January evening to an audience of its participants alone.
Three years later, along with ten friends, I was made redundant after thirteen years on the quayside with a Breton firm. They had landed here along with Dorics, Iberians, Faroese and many more, bringing both good cheer and hard currency. The bulk of this, as with the wages from the loaders, auctioneers, forklift drivers, managers and countless others involved in this major local industry and the services dependent on it, circulated locally. Unlike many, we were well-rewarded on our departure and we all found something soon enough. We didn’t complain as we’d all done well from it. By any objective standards, particularly today’s, these had been fruitful times.
It is not so now. There are government jobs in administrative positions, but the labour force has vanished with only part-time piece work for a few men. Tourists no longer flock to see the boats land and listen to the shrieks and grunts of buyers and sellers while loaders, fisherman and countless others weave about in the organised chaos of a wet fish mart. They wouldn’t be allowed to now.
Ominous and abundant signage that wouldn’t seem out of place on the thirty-eighth parallel is everywhere, but there’s little to see anyway. Most significantly, just as wet fish prices are the same in cash terms as they were thirty years ago, so are quayside wages. Once considered good money, the work now offers a minimum wage. Like many before me, I can testify to the invisible orthopaedic toll. Nobody does this for supermarket wages.
This story is from the No 315, January 2018 edition of Am Bratach.
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This story is from the No 315, January 2018 edition of Am Bratach.
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Bookends
“She Said He Said I Said: New Writing Scotland 35”, edited by Diana Hendry and Susie Maguire, Association for Scottish Literary Studies, 2017. £9.95.
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A 19th Century View Of 'Wild' Land
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Fraser Darling's View Of Highland Medical Care
The “West Highland Survey: an essay in human ecology”, edited by Frank Fraser Darling, was published by the Oxford University Press in 1955. Fraser Darling (1903-79) was an English ecologist, ornithologist, farmer, conservationist and author who between 1939 and 1943 brought derelict land into agricultural production on Tanera Mòr in the Summer Isles. In January 1944 he met Tom Johnson MP, Secretary of State for Scotland, who was aware of Fraser Darling’s published works which included a popular weekly column on agricultural science syndicated in several Highland newspapers. They agreed his plan for a social and biological investigation into the problems of the West Highlands and for establishing an agricultural advisory and demonstration centre in the crofting areas. In Fraser Darling’s own words, the West Highland Survey was established “in order to examine in a spirit of scientific inquiry, to gather a solid body of facts for analysis and synthesis, which would serve as a foundation for a future policy for the region”. He continued: “The argument was maintained that if the problem were understood in its wholeness, solution would be possible”. In June 1944, a team which included Frank Fraser Darling as director and four young Gaelic-speaking field officers, began work. The resulting 438-page book includes the following account of the Highlands and Islands Medical Service, launched in 1913 and forerunner of the Scottish National Health Service. After thirty years, the surveyors regarded the service as an unqualified success, an enviable situation underlined by the number of able medics seeking work in the post-war Highlands.
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The Postie's Post
IF YOU are a regular reader of my postie’s posts you will probably sigh when you realise that I am talking about roads again this month. But I do have an excuse and that is because the Highland Council aren’t really that good at managing them at times.
Bookends
George Gunn, “The Great Edge”, Grace Note Publications, 2017. £12.99.
The Postie's Post
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