Who’s Knocking?

My father in law was an old fashion Scotsman. His word was law, having a family of seven children there had to be order and discipline in his home, and he certainly demanded it. I guess you could say his household revolved around him and his way of doing things. The wife, as you would expect under the circumstances was the typical obedient housewife... at least in his presence.

How the arrangement came to be is unknown, but Ewan the Father in law and Maggie his wife had separate bedrooms, I believe snoring had something to do with it. She ran things the way he wanted and was happy to do so. Sure she had her moments, after all, people who are always right would rub even a loving wife the wrong way at times. But she knew she would win by gentle persuasion and patience, as she proved in the end.

Photo: Courtesy Grant Ritchie

His sons grew up and left home as soon as old enough, the strict atmosphere at home being too much for their spirits to bear. Both went to sea on merchant ships as many Scottish boys did. I suspect from what I’ve heard over the years, that the older two boys were the typical Scottish young men we hear about. The ones who like to drink and are quick to jump in when a fight is eminent. And of course they followed the Hibernian Football Club, Hibs for short, this family were Hibbies through and through, their team even won the Scottish Cup, in 1902.

The girls were reasonably good, but did their share of sneaking out of the house when his guard was down. He always treated them well, just a little strictly, no make-up, no going out with boys. He once managed to get my future wife tickets to see a group who were playing in Edinburgh, The Beatles, she said she enjoyed them, he certainly enjoyed being able to get the tickets.

Soon after we were married my wife and I went to Scotland and stayed in Ewan’s house, or as he called it “the Hoose”. I thoroughly enjoyed my stay and even came to admire Ewan for his laughter and his Scotch whiskey. He was fairly free with both, for a Scotsman that is. While there I saw some examples of his discipline, but of course the children were grown by then with only the last girl still in residence. Being the last child at home and a girl to boot she didn’t seem to have any problems managing him.

As he grew older Ewan spent more and more time in his upstairs bedroom, he had the place arranged just to his liking. His books were lined up in their place, the TV in easy reach. He even kept his tools, those he might possibly need for minor repairs, in a drawer there. Now Maggie liked spending her free time, what there was of it, downstairs. The TV, her favourite show being Miss Marple, the kitchen, and of course, the fireplace were there, the latter important since this was Scotland.

Ewan, like me, an efficient man, had developed a system of expressing his wishes, so Maggie could understand without his actually having to ask anything. He simply banged his cane on the bedroom floor and Maggie would know, depending on the time of day, what he wanted. 10:00 am, Morning tea, 1:00 Lunch, life was easy. She knew every knock on the floor like the back of her hand, there were newspaper knocks, has the mail come knocks, who’s on the phone knocks. The entire family and possibly the neighbours knew of this upstairs downstairs arrangement, it seemed to work since Maggie was willing to play her part.

This was the daily routine for the years of their marriage, until Ewan passed away. He had always said he wanted to be buried in Mount Vernon cemetery; many of his family were buried there. That cemetery had been opened in 1895 and being in Edinburgh, a very old and crowded city, was filled to capacity long before Ewan’s demise. It was by pure coincidence that shortly before Ewan’s death the church found a small place where a few graves would be allowed but only if there were two burials per plot, husband and wife plots, whoever went first, went in first.

Ewan was buried several years before Maggie had need of the plot. It was at her funeral that the irony of the situation struck home to the family. The priest must have been surprised indeed, when in the middle of the graveside service, family members started hiding smiles and giggling behind their hands and missals. It wasn’t until one of the more disreputable sons voiced what everyone was thinking that full blown laughter rang out. In a loud voice he shouted “Who’s on top now Ewan?”

Maggie was always the life of the party; she was always laughing and had a joke for every occasion. I’m sure she enjoyed the joke that day; after all it was hers.

The photo by Grant Ritchie was taken in Lawnmarket Street near the Castle, if you visit the stores web site; check out the kilt measuring guide.

JAWhite                                                 Return To Main Page
November 2009