In the spring of '75 a very unexpected letter arrived at Barnton. It was from Poland and was addressed to
                    Miss Pamela Muncreff
                       Kinross-Castle
                        by Stirling
                          Scotland
I knew immediately who it was from. It was from Bruno. How strange I felt as I read the brief note - asking how I was and for news of my family. As he said, "I am OK. Only thirty years older".

I immediately showed it to Ernie and after a brief discussion we decided the best thing to do would be to give Anne the letter and for her to write to her father, telling him all the news of herself - and of me for that matter. Ernie was not in the least jealous; in fact he was quite excited about it and was all for booking a seat for Anne on the next plane to Poland.

As luck would have it we intended joining Anne and John in Comrie that evening to go to a dance. As we were standing in the bar Ernie gleefully produced the letter and gave it to Anne. When she read it she was, naturally, a bit stunned at first but then became quite animated and was all for discussing it and what she would say etc, but John became distinctly upset - in fact he was jealous. I am sure I don't know why - it was Anne's father we were talking about, not a previous boyfriend. If anybody should have been jealous is should have been Ernie, but he was not because he was totally confident of our love.

So Anne wrote to her father, exchanging photographs and learning about her half-sisters and their children. Bruno's wife had died the year before, he wrote, and he was now living with his younger daughter. They continued to correspond until March '78 when she received a telegram to say he was dead. He still remained a shadowy figure to me. It was so long ago that I had known him; it was as if it had all happened to somebody else - not to me. That is until tonight. As I write this, I see him before me and mourn for him, the man I loved such a long time ago.

Shortly after Viv's wedding Anne decided to leave John. I won't go into the reasons for this except to say there had been friction for some time and, finding the tension quite intolerable, she and John agreed to part. Although fully understanding the reasons for this, both Ernie and I felt very sad - if only because we would no longer have our days out fishing on the Earn, the Ruchall or the Lednock. No, that was not true. We did not think of that at the time, we were more concerned for the happiness of both Anne and John - and Susie of course.

Anne moved into a little cottage in Auchterarder shortly before Susie was due to start school at the local primary. Anne was happy there and enjoying the freedom from tension, when one day she went with a friend to the local hotel for a quiet drink. She noticed a handsome dark-haired young man sitting in a wheelchair. Being a very friendly outgoing sort of person, she squatted down beside him and began to chat. And that was it. I would like to say they were still chatting but, sadly, that is not true.

And then came the day when she brought Donald over to see us. It was a lovely day, with the sun streaming into the living room and the patio door wide open so that the garden seemed to be part of the living area. It was a Sunday, so Nick and Lesley were there as well. A real family gathering. My heart went out to Donald having to face this noisy and talkative (though friendly) bunch of people for the first time. It must have been a daunting experience but he survived it well. Before long he was talking seriously to Ernie, who listened gravely as Donald stated his intentions. He and Anne felt deeply about each other and wished to be committed to a long-term relationship and eventual marriage, once the legal obstacles were out of the way. Ernie was not overjoyed at the prospect, not from any personal dislike of Donald - he could understand Donald's love for Anne - but because he could see Anne was likely to be hurt yet again, and that he did not want. He thought it would be better to break off the relationship before it became too deep. He explained this patiently but firmly to Anne and Donald and they in their turn insisted that they understood all the difficulties, the pros and cons and were willing to take their chance.

I should explain that Donald had had multiple sclerosis since his early twenties. He was now virtually confined to a wheelchair and barely able to stand for more than a minute or two unsupported. The discussion went on for a long time with each party repeating their point of view over and over again. I could see Donald was very tense but there were no raised voices on either side. Eventually Ernie said: "Oh well! I can see you are both quite adamant whatever I may say, so you have my blessing. But please understand I had to voice what I felt. Now! Let's have lunch."

We all heaved a sigh of relief and sat round the table to enjoy our lunch (which I had been desperately trying to keep warm without spoiling for at least an hour, if not more). As it was such a lovely day Ernie suggested we went out to his favourite spot, near Dalkeith, to see how his famous blackberries were getting on. There was quite a smooth path so Anne was able to wheel Donald along. Ernie and I were in front and they were following on behind. We suddenly became aware that they had stopped when we heard shouts of laughter and, turning round saw that they had half disappeared into the bushes. We could not imagine what they were doing but knew from the sound of their voices that nothing was wrong. We hung around and eventually they caught up with us, but nothing was said. When we arrived back at Barnton, Donald said how much he had enjoyed himself. It was the first time anyone had taken him a country walk since his illness began. He also explained the reason for their escapade in the bushes - he had suddenly realised his bowels were going to move and, as he had very little control by now, there was nothing for it but for Anne to help him out of the wheelchair and support him while he did the necessary. Instead of causing them both embarrassment, it had caused them to laugh and giggle, as they struggled to hide in the bushes while Donald answered nature's call. It was then that Ernie and I realised that if they could cope with a potentially embarrassing situation in such a cheerful manner, their chance of happiness was as good as anybody else's, even though it might be short-lived.

Shortly after that Anne went to stay with Donald for the weekend, while Susie was visiting her father. It was such a success that she never went back to her own cottage and a year so later, March 9 to be precise, they were married. It was quite a do, I can tell you. Both Donald and Anne decided they did not want a quiet unobtrusive wedding. No, they wanted something to remember, a day they would never forget.

It was held at Bridge of Allan in the Prince Charles Tavern where their mutual friend, the Auchterarder hotelier, had moved. The local minister agreed to take the ceremony in the hotel so there was no trailing about from church to hotel, which would have been difficult for Donald. Vivienne was the Best Maid and Donald's friend, Vincent Flanagan, the Best Man.

The ceremony went off very well, with Anne and Vivienne looking very calm and serene, but Donald extremely tense. We then all then sat down for a delightful meal. One of the guests had been to a funeral in the morning and, by the time he arrived at the wedding, was more than a little the worse for wear or, should I say, drunk. Half way through the meal he fell asleep with his face in his soup but nobody seemed to bother. This is the first and only time I have seen such a phenomenon.

When the meal and the speeches were over the tables were cleared away and everyone got down to the serious business of drinking and dancing, in that order. Donald had three sisters and several uncles and cousins who came from the west of Scotland. It is the only time I have been to a wedding where our family were out-numbered by the family on the other side. Even Nick with his silver-topped cane and easy chatter and Lesley, looking very elegant and attractive, both at their sparkling best, could not make up for a feeling of being somewhat outnumbered.

Suddenly I became aware that Donald was whizzing across the room in an absolute fury, shouting, "I'll get him, I'll get him." I could not think what all the fuss was about until Nicky came back into the room with a look of amazement on his face. He had been on his way to the toilet when he had come across two young men having a fierce argument and Susie, who was then aged seven, was caught in between them. As one young man had a bottle in his raised hand, ready to clobber the other, Nick did not wait to see what it was all about but, quickly pulling Susie, away he grappled the assailant with the bottle and virtually threw him out of the door into the car park. He then went to the toilet and, coming out, was confronted by Donald who attacked him verbally for starting a fight.

It took him more than a few minutes to calm Donald down so that he could explain what had really happened; that he had not started a fight but had indeed prevented one, that he was not prepared to stand by and see his niece possibly injured by flying glass. Peace was restored and the remainder of the wedding went off without a hitch. In fact I only began to relax and really enjoy myself when it was time for us all to pile into the bus which was taking us back to Auchterarder. Nicky was still in high spirits and entertained the passengers with his good humoured chatter, flattering the middle- aged ladies outrageously.

Most of the Edinburgh guests, including Ernie and I, stayed the night in a hotel in Auchterarder. It was freezing. After an early breakfast we were at a loss what to do. There was no heating in the lounge so we decided to find somewhere to have a coffee. There was nowhere in Auchterarder but we drove to Crieff where we managed to find a little icecream shop that served coffee. We were all still cold and miserable so decided it was time we called on Donald and Anne, who had gone home to their bungalow after the festivities. Why we did not drive home to Edinburgh I cannot quite remember, but I think we must have left some clothes and things at their house. Somehow I think the happy couple were not too pleased when a crowd of us all trooped in about 11.30, asking for warmth and shelter!

Three months later a very different wedding took place - my own. There was only Jimmy and Jessie Thomson as witnesses at the Registry Office and then we went for lunch with Harry and Enid, and my sister Bumpy and her friend Rosemary, at the Livingstone House Hotel, and on to Tullibole for the rest of the day.

Two days later we had a real family party at Barnton with all the young ones and some of Ernie's London friends as well. Ernie made some of his famous punch, which would make any party go with a swing, and the next morning Keith and I served bacon and egg for breakfast on the lawn.

Looking back, the Seventies seem to have been a calm and peaceful decade. There was no longer the sense of continual struggle - struggle to make ends meet, struggle to keep the peace, struggle just to keep going - that there had been in the Sixties. Ernie and I were happy together and had the same outlook on life and, as time went on, our ideas and values became even more similar. Ernie had had a very rigid upbringing, as opposed to my very liberal childhood, but gradually his ideas relaxed and his opinions mellowed so that he became more tolerant in his outlook. Even though he did not always strictly approve of the behaviour of some of the younger generation he would have his say, he would listen and he would try to understand. In that way we became more united as a family than ever before, even though physically more scattered. Ian had gone off to London to work and rejoin old friends. Keith remained in Edinburgh. Anne was in Auchterarder. Nicky who, predictably but amicably, had separated from Lesley, travelled to various parts of the world to try and make his fortune. Vivienne was married to Alan and lived in Fife for a while before moving back to Edinburgh. Douglas was still at school and then, when he left school in '75, found work as an apprentice locksmith and remained in Edinburgh. Ernie had progressed at Chubbs from office manager to selling safes and heavy equipment and was making a comfortable living and, as his health still remained good, we had very few worries. Tragedy is always round the corner, but I will come back to that later and meanwhile try and recall some of the happier times. One such was a fishing expedition which Ernie and I went on while we were staying in a holiday cottage at Findhorn, on the Moray Firth. We went to Grantown, a nearby fishing village, where we arranged with a local boatowner to go out the following afternoon. When we arrived, equipped with flasks of tea and whisky, we found the skipper already in a very cheerful and mildly inebriated condition. He asked if we minded sharing the boat with a man and his two teenage sons which, of course, we did not.

So, off we went. It was a lovely sunny afternoon with only the slightest breeze and, personally I felt there was no need to fish to enjoy oneself. But after about twenty minutes the skipper said: "Put out your lines now, boys", taking a swig from his whisky bottle. So overboard went the great hooks with their coloured feathers, four or five to a line. Two seconds later came an excited cry: 'I've got a bite". "Pull it up then, pull it up."

This I did and there were several beautiful silver mackerel on the end of the line. Ernie dropped his line and started taking the mackerel off the hooks and throwing them in a box on the floor of the boat. At the same time came excited cries from the two boys: "I've got a bite too." "Pull it up then", shouted Father.

By this time my line was back in the water and almost immediately out again, with wriggling silver fish dangling on the end. I left Ernie the horrible job of taking the fish off the hooks while I threw his line overboard into the water. Before he could even get all the fish off the hooks, I had already pulled up the second line with five large struggling fish, and so it went on. The first box was soon filled, and the second and the third. The boys were having the same success as ourselves and so the mass slaughter went on. I was whispering to Ernie: "Throw them back. Please throw them back". He threw back, say two out of three, but the skipper obviously wanted a good harvest and looked very disapproving as he helped himself to another swig from the bottle. Soon all the boxes were full and the boys, obviously enjoying themselves, began throwing the fish, with the approval of the skipper, loose into the bottom of the boat. In less than no time we were literally knee deep in fish, which were flapping about all over the place. Ernie and I had stopped fishing by now and the time came when Ernie could stand it no longer. "This is getting boring. Let's go elsewhere and try for some flat fish".

Very reluctantly the boys and the skipper agreed. After cruising around for half an hour or so the Skipper found what he thought was a likely spot and once more the lines, with suitable bait and tackle, were lowered into the water. This time we had longer to wait but then up came the line with a flounder. We tried again and soon we had a rock salmon as well. The boys were not so successful and did not think it was such exciting fishing as before. All too soon it was time to head for home and when we arrived at the harbour we had to wade through the mackerel to get out, as the boat was literally up to the gunnels with fish. We took three large mackerels and the rock salmon away with us, and the family of boys something similar, so you could say that the skipper had a very profitable afternoon - allowing for the cost of fuel, both petrol and whisky, of course.

Ernie continually worried that I was overworking and was determined that I should have some time off and really 'get away from it all', so the following autumn we looked through some catalogues of holiday cottages for rent. Because I remembered my mother talking of the beauties of Loch Awe and relating stories of holidays there with the older children, we chose a Forestry Commission cottage in Dalavich - a little village on the west side of the Loch. It was early November when we drove up one Saturday morning. It was a grey day but the air was clear and still and we literally gasped with delight as we beheld one magnificient view after another, wending our way down the single-track road which seemed to writhe and curl "like a snake in pain" (in the words of my Aunt Daisy's chauffeur). It took us well over an hour to cover the 15 miles from Taynuilt to Dalavich. We just had to keep stopping to admire the view, to take photographs, to get out of the car and climb the embankment. The last view, as we came over the brow of the hill and suddenly out of the forest and saw Loch Awe spread out before us like an aerial picture was breath- taking. All the inlets and islands were clearly visible, and the hills reflected in the still clear water made a picture impossible to describe. We drove very slowly down the hill into Dalavich, not wishing the moment of beauty to end. That is how we both fell in love with Loch Awe and it became our spiritual home.

We spent the holiday exploring the area by car and by foot, but even then Ernie was beginning to have trouble with various joints and could only manage short walks of one-two miles at the most. The weather did not keep up and there was wind and rain but, nothing daunted, we were out in all weathers - with proper rainproof apparel, for Ernie was never one to skimp on such matters. One evening we were driving back to the cottage in the dark when we found the road blocked by a fallen tree. A school master was already there with his two sons and was discussing ways and means of moving the tree, using his knowledge of physics and mathematics. After a few moments hesitation Ernie did a three point turn on the narrow road and drove to the fish farm, a few miles back. Two obliging young men grabbed a power-saw and, getting into their Landrover, drove up the loch in front of us. In a few minutes they had the tree cut into sections and off the road. Accepting our thanks (but not Ernie's offer of a tip), they made off home in a southerly direction and we continued on our journey north to Dalavich.

From then on, whenever we could get any time off, summer or winter, we were up in Argyll. One of our first weekends I remember particularly well. It was at the end of January, Burns' night in fact, and as we piled into bed about one am on the Saturday morning we heard sounds of revelry coming from the community centre, and the singing of Scottish ballads as, later, the revellers found their way home. The next day was bitterly cold but clear and sunny. As we went for a walk through the woods we found the burns partially frozen and every bush and blade of grass covered with icicles. It looked like the land of the Snow Queen. We tried to take as many photographs as we could but it was really too dark under the trees. I have one of Ernie, like an oversized gnome, sitting on a wooden bridge with his feet dangling over the side and a woolly bobble-hat on his head.

Every summer we rented a house for a fortnight, and for a week in the autumn, and friends and family came to stay or visit for the day. Donald and Anne were frequent day visitors. Ernie and Donald would settle down to a serious game of cribbage and Anne and I would go out for a tramp. There are many glorious walks thereabouts, but all too rough to take a wheelchair, so we asked permission to drive up the forestry roads so that Donald could see the waterfalls and other beauty spots.

The only drawback to Dalavich was the clouds of midges that appeared in the summer. Unless experienced they are difficult to imagine. Dalavich is a very sheltered spot and there is frequently no breeze to disperse the thick clouds of malevolent insects. One evening we were coming off the loch after a days fishing and, as we stepped ashore, a black mass of biting insects attacked us. We couldn't see because the midges were so numerous. They were up our nostrils, in our ears and behind our spectacles. It was terrifying. Ernie quickly lit two cigarettes, one for him and one for me, and we dashed to the car, not waiting to take down the rods or do any of the things that we usually did when unloading the boat.

Another evening we made one vital mistake - we left the living room window open and the light on. When we came home and opened the door we could not see across the room. Hastily putting the light off and closing the door, we found the canister of insect killer, opened the door slightly, put one arm into the room, sprayed madly and then retreated upstairs, remembering to shut the windows before putting on the light. In the morning when we came down we found a pile of dead midges four inches deep on the dining-room table. You can be assured we never made that mistake again!

Mostly we did our own catering but every now and again Ernie liked to take us out for a really slap-up meal. There were no half- measures for Ernie. He was perfectly content with sausages and mash if eating at home, but if he took you out for a meal it had to be for the best. And one place that was the best was Taycreggan Hotel, at the little village of Kilkrennan, ten miles up the loch. One year my birthday came round while we were holidaying at Dalavich with Jimmy and Jessie, and Ernie said he would take us all to Taycreggan for dinner. Two days prior to my birthday, knowing Ernie could be somewhat dilatory I began gently nagging him: "Have you booked a table yet?" "I haven't forgotten. I'll do it later."

The next day. "Have you 'phoned Taycreggan yet?" "Not yet. There is plenty of time." Even on the morning of my birthday I was still worried, as I had not seen him go to the 'phone box in the village. "Are you sure it will be OK? You haven't 'phoned yet." "Don't worry. It will be alright."

When the time came we changed into our finery - both of us tended to go about like a couple of scruffs when not at work - and off we went. On arriving at the hotel we were met by Mr Taylor the proprietor, who said "I wonder if you would mind waiting in the lounge for a while? We are not quite ready for you yet."

"Of course not", I replied, but my heart sank momentarily. I felt this was a foretaste of things to come. Mr Taylor held open the door and I entered first and let out a cry of surprise and delight, for who should be there but Harry and Enid with bottles of champagne on the table beside them! There was lots of laughter and kisses before the champagne was handed round along with caviare and dainty hors-d'oeuvres. It was so totally unexpected. Seemingly Ernie had arranged it all before we left Edinburgh and had chosen the menu, which consisted of all my favourite dishes cooked to perfection, including a memorable duck in cherry sauce. What an evening it was and such a surprise!

The weather in Argyll is very changeable and unpredictable, as my next tale will illustrate. It must have occurred before Anne met Donald, because she and Susie were on holiday with us at Dalavich. Ernie loved a day's fishing on the loch and Anne and I loved walking and fishing, so we arranged a day which would suit all of us. We hired a boat for the day on nearby Loch Avich, where Ernie would drive directly and do some solitary fishing, while Anne, Susie, myself and Toro would walk over the hill from Dalavich to the remote side of the loch where we would meet up and join Ernie for some fishing in the afternoon.

The day dawned with rain which rained as it only can in Argyll. By eleven o'clock the heavy rain had ceased but there was still a fine drizzle and the sky was dark and overcast. We decided to risk it against the advice of the locals, who said, "I think you should wait." We waited another hour and then began getting into all our waterproofs, including trousers, jacket and boots. I said to Anne: "You know, I think it is going to clear. I'm going to put on my shorts under my trousers just in case."

Anne and Susie did the same and about noon we set off. I don't know about the two girls but I felt and looked like the Michelin man, especially across the nether regions - after all I was wearing pants, shorts, long trousers and waterproof trousers. Ernie loaded up the car with the fishing gear, flasks of tea and sandwiches, and a can of petrol for the boat. I put some fruit and a pair of gym shoes in a small back-pack and off we set; Ernie in the car, and the three girls, with the dog on a long lead, on foot up the forestry road. We had only trudged a quarter of a mile when suddenly the sun came out, and the heat reflecting from the precipice onto the flint road sent us diving into the shelter of the forest, where we did a hasty striptease - off came the waterproof tops, the jumpers, the waterproof trousers, the jeans and the wellington boots, and we climbed back onto the road wearing T-shirts, shorts and gym shoes - and even then we were sweltering.

We decided to have a rest before continuing on our sweaty way, so sat at the edge of the road and ate some fruit and a little chocolate. When we felt rested we shoved our unwanted garments into our back-packs and set off once again - I had my wellies tied with part of Toro's lead, dangling round my neck. After struggling uphill for another half hour or so we came to more open country where the walking was easier and we could see miles in all directions. We spent some time listening to our own echoes and then Toro got the scent of a deer and off he went. We were by now miles away from any sheep so I wasn't worried and took the opportunity to lie flat on the turf and soak up the sun, occasionally whistling and shouting 'Toro, Toro!', but all the response we got was the sound of a faint yelp in the distance. We walked on a bit, sat down and waited and then walked on again, all the time whistling and shouting, 'Toro!' It was probably pointless as he was no doubt too far away to hear. We continued in this fashion until suddenly he appeared and collapsed in a ditch at our feet - too tired it seemed to take another step. So this was an excuse for yet another rest and chance to sit in the sun and soak up the beauty.

When Toro was rested we set off once again, this time more purposely, and very soon we heard a strange sound - a deep voice shouting, 'Pam-el-a, Pam-el-a'. We cupped our hands and yelled back. 'Hall-o-a, we're coming, we're coming'. But the voice continued 'Pam-el-a, Pam-el-a'. We were now going gently downhill so hurried on our way, sometimes through deep natural forest where it was obvious we couldn't make ourselves heard to Ernie out on the loch. Suddenly we were there, on the loch shore, and Ernie was about a mile away along the loch, still shouting. Because the trees were very dense along the shore, extending right to the water's edge, all we could do was jump up and down waving brightly coloured garments and shouting like mad. Unfortunately Ernie was a little deaf and so was unable to hear us until we came into his field of vision, and then he came as fast as he could - rowing. On his face was a look of enormous relief; at last he had found us. The wooden shelter where we had arranged to meet was so overgrown by vegetation that it was barely visible from the water, so he had spent the afternoon rowing up and down the shore, worrying in case something had happened to us.

Why rowing you may ask? Well, so far his day had been a chapter of accidents. On his way to Loch Avich he had noticed a smell of petrol and, on stopping the car, found the can had fallen over and leaked and the back of the car was swimming in petrol. He mopped it up as well as he could and, opening all the windows, continued on his way. Luckily there was still a little petrol left and so after loading the boat with the fishing gear and picnic things, he set off quite happily leaving the car, not so happily, with all the windows open.

The boat engine started perfectly and he was just settling down to do some quiet and peaceful fishing when suddenly there was a noise from the engine and he realised the shearing pin in the propellor had snapped. There was nothing for it but to row so, taking in his line, he set off to row to the prearranged meeting place which, of course, he then could not find. Poor Ernie had spent the afternoon rowing up and down the loch shore getting more and more anxious, wondering where on earth we had got to, while we were taking our time, thinking we were allowing him to do some undisturbed fishing before we joined him.

Anyway once found, he forgave us and we had our picnic on the shore before piling into the boat. Toro was so exhausted he fell fast