A view of the Firth

After a very damp morning it has slowly cleared; but it is cold.  Cold enough for the Current Mrs Creel to keep her hood up as she pads aboot in the Thrift.  And then the call came through.

My mother moved up to Stromness from Aberdeenshire a year past.  She sold her house to a lady who lived not far from her.   My mother had a neighbour (L) who proved to be an excellent neighbour over lots of years; she supported my mother in so many ways.  After my mum’s flitting L kept an eye on my mother’s house and reported to her as things gradually progressed.  Then one afternoon L noticed that the police were at my mother’s previous house, however L was vexed as she couldn’t find out the reason for their presence.  Next day the Bobbies came back and L couldn’t help but notice that the Bomb Disposal Squad were also present (travelled up from Glasgow).   L told my mother this over the phone, in a ‘very concerned’ voice.   My mother nearly ended herself laughing.  The purchaser’s son was in the attic, making improvements, when he found a hand grenade.  The Bomb Disposal boys took it away and exploded it at the Black Dog (just north of Aberdeen).   I distinctly remember that aged about 8 or 9 we would hurl the hand grenade about as we played ‘Brits and Japs’  (for that was the way it was then).  I remember thinking how heavy the grenade was and that I couldn’t throw it very far.  It is only now that I wonder what my parents were doing allowing me to play with live ammunition!

My mother says she can’t remember what happened to the Luger pistol and the German bayonet.   It wouldn’t surprise  me if my mother has developed a heavy water plant in her Stromness flat.