I woke to a white out…a beautiful snowy scene, complete with little fir tree under inches of snow…Nice.

Yesterday was white, and we did venture out and it was all very jolly with kids sledging and people looking Christmassy and friendly. I felt very virtuous and made a big pot of split pea soup and John continued on his list of DIY. I am just exhausted watching him. He’s converted a cupboard for the linen and made shelves for all my shoes…(I was horrified, I had no idea I had that many, for I had cleverly squirreled them about the house, under coats and what not, but now they are all arranged and are easily counted…hmmm Mrs Marcos) He’s covered the fireplace tiles with slate, which is a big improvement…suits the blue room, and doesn’t detract from the Doha rug.

Today is Aunty Mary’s birthday…she is 90. She sits up in Dalwhinnie, which is described as a hamlet on the great north road, about 50 miles from Inverness. It has a railway station, a distillery, shop and hotel. It used to be quite a bustling place, and employed quite a lot of people, but now of course the whisky is made by computers, and that means man power is reduced to about five people…Not like in my day….I hope you can hear me sigh.

Anyway she is amazing, lives alone after suffering a stroke about 15 years ago, and manages to get about her house by zimmer. Always cheery, she welcomes neighbours and friends at any hour, and makes everyone welcome. She looked after me for a while, when I was in my ‘orphan Annie’ phase, after my grandmother died, and before my father and stepmother came to get me from Malaysia. She also looked after me during school holidays from Morrison’s. She also played foster mother to her brother’s children and all the children in Dalwhinnie grew up knowing her as ‘Mame’. She was a refuge where kids knew that there would always be a biscuit and a hug. Now at 90 she is celebrating her birthday…and has 40 cards to open and parcels and flowers.

I remember her granny,my great granny who lived to be 96 (or 7, can’t remember) also sat in a little house overlooking the Grampian mountains, and when she died there was a write-up about her in the Sunday Post… I learnt she had been a midwife…attending to mothers all over the district, on a bicycle in all weathers. They made women tough in those days. Sadly she had 8 children of her own, but only one son outlived her.

Aunty Mary told me her father was the Duke of Athol’s private piper and was considerably older than her mother. When they married, apparently he loved her so much he vowed ‘he would keep the winds from blowing on her’. Sadly after three children, he couldn’t save her and she died tragically young, leaving old granny to bring up the children with the bereaved Duke’s piper.

I remember the last time I visited Aunty Mary was talking about how busy Dalwhinnie station once was, what with hunting and shooting guests up for the season, and barrels of whisky to be taken down to Perth, and she said way back when, a man call Mr Kennedy came up for a 3 month trial on the Ben Alder estate…he was so unamused at the remoteness of the place, he left his belongings at the station saying he would collect them when he left…well, I  have a picture of his widow, Mrs Kennedy and you can see she was no spring chicken. The couple lived in Dalwhinnie for over 50 years and Mrs Kennedy herself lived to be 100.

To continue the ‘old folk’ theme…I had to laugh at the latest news of John’s mother, who is in a home in Evesham. When I saw her last she was very discontent, and not happy to be 95. The latest news is a new resident has come to live in the home…and his name is Lionel (the only man in the place). All the old women made a play for him, but happily Jessie won, and now the two sit together holding hands and are quite oblivious to everything else. Just as well as all the other old women are spitting!!!!

Anyway enough enough. The snow is falling thicker than ever and I must go and watch it.