Enigma

When we first moved to Scotland, money was tight for my parents. I was conscious that money was an issue, but I didn’t understand fully until I was much older. To make ends meet, my brother and I were sent out to collect kindling from the woods or search for clinker (stoney residue from burnt coal) along the disused railway track next to our home. We lived in an old Station House at Clocksbriggs, mid route between Forfar and Arbroath.
 
It was along the railway track by our home that we discovered a midden. In the days before refuse collection by the council bin lorry, cottages would dispose of their household waste at the bottom of the garden. As time passed, especially after inclement weather, treasures would become half exposed. Excited we dug in search of artefacts - amateur archaeologists inspired by Indianna Jones. A white glass face cream bottle, pottery, glass bottles with raised lettering, I still have some of these early finds. We even dug up a whole cast iron bed, scrubbed it down and painted it. I have seen a similar one in the ruins of a cottage at the abandoned village of Pitmiddle in Perthshire. Goodness knows how old it is.
 
I wonder if these early discoveries are what made me always mindful of the treasures beneath our feet. Why I am forever searching, whether it be the shoreline or my vegetable patch. When we go walking the fields at home there is always plenty of pottery to be found in a newly ploughed field. But why all over the field? A question that has perplexed me for several years. That was until I was provided the answer by way of an old farmer. Cottage and town midden rubbish would be carted and emptied into farmers’ fields. The ashes from the fire and organic waste matter providing welcome nutrients for the crops. I don’t know why I didn’t work it out myself. It makes perfect sense.