Stuart MacNeill and the people of Islay
Stuart MacNeill and the people of Islay
I received the very sad news that an ex-colleague Stuart MacNeill had been killed while on holiday in Spain in the middle of September 19 and yesterday Saturday the 5th of October I travelled to Isle of Islay with my friend and ex work colleague to attend his funeral, both of us now retired.
Stuart worked in the office through the day.We both had our own distinct work to do but it was after hours where we both worked together on standby duties to keep the lights and the power on in Lanarkshire and occasionally elsewhere.
Every now and then while we worked together Stuart would say "you need to visit Islay".
Sadly I never did.
Islay is located on the west coast of Scotland and part of the Inner Hebrides, this is the large island group off the west coast beyond the Mull of Kintyre.
We set off at three a.m. to catch the seven a.m. Calmac ferry from Kennacraig on the Mull of Kintyre to Port Ellen on the isle of Islay.
Travelling overnight there is no traffic in front or behind us once leaving the area north west of Glasgow but there are other hazards , sharp bends and steep inclines , large drop offs to the sides if you make a mistake that will either drop you down a cliff edge or into Loch Lomond or one of the many other lochs and watery hazards along the route known as the “rest and be thankful” or the A83 to the rest of us. The name “rest and be thankful” comes from a name carved into a stone by the solders who built the road in 1753, testament to their hard labour.
On the way we came across a few groups of large deer by the side of the road that were grazing on the lush grass verges and shrubs growing along side the road, this hazard gets worse as the winter weather begins to bite and food becomes scarce.
We arrived at Kennacraig ferry terminal at five fifteen a.m.,still dark, there was already one other vehicle waiting in line and this was some other ex-work colleagues, the mini bus which had picked up from the office arrived some five minutes later along with some other vehicles all patiently waiting for the ferry to begin loading after six a.m.
The ferry left on time at seven a.m. and began our two hour ten minute crossing ,the daylight finally began to light up the shoreline of Loch Long as we all met up together to have a hot breakfast from the busy restaurant on board and then retired to one of the lounges to have a blether whilst making the crossing.
The crossing was relatively smooth until we were about three miles out from our destination , we were now in the influence of a stronger south westerly breeze and the swell was beginning to make the journey a bit more uncomfortable.
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| Arriving at Port Ellen |
We arrived on time and disembarked the ferry and started looking for St.John`s church which is also in Port Ellen, as we began to get lost in this lovely little village we looked for the one person who has all the answers..the postman. By luck as this was the first ferry of the day, the Royal Mail van was also on board and the mail was being split up between the posties, we asked the one of the postmen at the back of his van sorting his mail where St. John`s church was and we were given some very precise instructions " go along the road until you get to MACAULEY and TORRIE and turn right you will see the church on the left hand side ".
We pulled up at the church and found a suitable parking spot, within about fifteen minutes the church opened and people began to arrive... one hour early ,it was going to be busy !.
This is when we started to feel some the amazing hospitality of the island and the appreciation shown to us for attending the funeral. Even though we had hardly been on the island an hour or so we were asked to enter the church as its was near to full but they kept some empty pews just for us ,and all his work colleagues that had travelled to attend.
The church was full, people were sitting in the small anti rooms, on the alter, standing in the porch and outside, it felt that the whole island were all at St Johns church to mourn the death of one of its own, one of our colleagues. Eventually the church got so full myself and my friend could see some elderly people standing at the back so we decided to give up our seats and walked to the back. I could hear the wind getting up and typically it started to rain just as the memorial service began.
The service started and it went quiet.
The church was full, people were sitting in the small anti rooms, on the alter, standing in the porch and outside, it felt that the whole island were all at St Johns church to mourn the death of one of its own, one of our colleagues. Eventually the church got so full myself and my friend could see some elderly people standing at the back so we decided to give up our seats and walked to the back. I could hear the wind getting up and typically it started to rain just as the memorial service began.
The service started and it went quiet.
The minister welcomed all the congregation for attending including visitors to the island and began the service, two eulogies were read out by close friends which made us all laugh and then a beautiful poem read out which made us all think about our friend and colleague.
The minister then thanks us for attending and asked us to sing the final hymn.
Many many years ago at school in our music class we sung traditional Scottish ballads like the Skye boat song, but one of those traditional songs was used as the final hymn. I had not heard or sung it since then , it was "Westering Home" a song/hymn about returning home to Islay and I could hardly sing as I felt myself welling up as my thoughts took over.
The final solemn task of burial began, with the funeral hearse slowly making its way to Kilnaughton cemetery with lovely views over Kilnaughton bay and its white sands. The congregation followed ,accompanied by a lone piper playing a lament .
The burial was completed, it was such a beautiful and fitting send off by the people of Islay
Afterwards we returned to the Islay hotel for lunch at the invitation of the family and that is when we heard some of the reports of the magnificent hospitality being given.
Some of our group had arrived the day before and booked accommodation .
One group had arrived and called for a taxi to take them to their flat , once the driver realised they were here for the funeral he refused to take the fare. The same group went back into Port Ellen with the same taxi to the local pub but all their drinks were bought for them ,they commented "we never once had to put our hands in our pockets."
Another group arrived at their accommodation only to find the booking cancelled and all monies refunded as they were here to attend the funeral.
Everybody remarked at the warm welcome and appreciation they received. Someone later disclosed that they were treated like Kings !
The return ferry to Kennacraig was at Port Askaig at three thirty, some 30 miles away, further than you may think as there are no dual carriageways on Islay ,so we thanked our hosts and left for the ferry at about one fifty.
We arrived at the ferry terminal and joined the queue, the mini bus pulled up into another lane,and as there was a bit of time to spare a few colleagues went to the shop for a cup of coffee and yes you`ve guessed it the server refused to take payment...even at the ferry terminal shop !
The rain was still falling, the wind was still blowing as we left Islay but the crossing was smooth as we all chatted on the way back hearing even more examples of the island hospitality.
We arrived at Kennacriag bang on time and the disembarkation ran smoothly, well that ,is apart from the minibus returning to the office leaving without four of its passengers, we waived as we passed them, thats just what Stuart would do but I am sure he would also have been sending them a funny text.
Fortunately the minibus pulled up at the ticket office and they climbed aboard. We started the long journey back up the A83 with the minibus not far behind us and within and hour or so its started to get dark again.
Yes it was a long day with lots of miles travelled, but it was worth it to show our respect to the family and to let them know we wont forget Stuart.
When I got home and while unpacking my things I noticed white sand, Islay sand.
A little bit of Islay had come back with me.
The next time I hear Westering Home being sung it may bring a tear to my eye but it will always remind me of Stuart.
(If you have never heard Westering Home here is a Youtube link to the corries version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eg0w3XJmq2Q )
The minister then thanks us for attending and asked us to sing the final hymn.
Many many years ago at school in our music class we sung traditional Scottish ballads like the Skye boat song, but one of those traditional songs was used as the final hymn. I had not heard or sung it since then , it was "Westering Home" a song/hymn about returning home to Islay and I could hardly sing as I felt myself welling up as my thoughts took over.
The final solemn task of burial began, with the funeral hearse slowly making its way to Kilnaughton cemetery with lovely views over Kilnaughton bay and its white sands. The congregation followed ,accompanied by a lone piper playing a lament .
The burial was completed, it was such a beautiful and fitting send off by the people of Islay
Afterwards we returned to the Islay hotel for lunch at the invitation of the family and that is when we heard some of the reports of the magnificent hospitality being given.
Some of our group had arrived the day before and booked accommodation .
One group had arrived and called for a taxi to take them to their flat , once the driver realised they were here for the funeral he refused to take the fare. The same group went back into Port Ellen with the same taxi to the local pub but all their drinks were bought for them ,they commented "we never once had to put our hands in our pockets."
Another group arrived at their accommodation only to find the booking cancelled and all monies refunded as they were here to attend the funeral.
Everybody remarked at the warm welcome and appreciation they received. Someone later disclosed that they were treated like Kings !
The return ferry to Kennacraig was at Port Askaig at three thirty, some 30 miles away, further than you may think as there are no dual carriageways on Islay ,so we thanked our hosts and left for the ferry at about one fifty.
We arrived at the ferry terminal and joined the queue, the mini bus pulled up into another lane,and as there was a bit of time to spare a few colleagues went to the shop for a cup of coffee and yes you`ve guessed it the server refused to take payment...even at the ferry terminal shop !
The rain was still falling, the wind was still blowing as we left Islay but the crossing was smooth as we all chatted on the way back hearing even more examples of the island hospitality.
We arrived at Kennacriag bang on time and the disembarkation ran smoothly, well that ,is apart from the minibus returning to the office leaving without four of its passengers, we waived as we passed them, thats just what Stuart would do but I am sure he would also have been sending them a funny text.
Fortunately the minibus pulled up at the ticket office and they climbed aboard. We started the long journey back up the A83 with the minibus not far behind us and within and hour or so its started to get dark again.
Yes it was a long day with lots of miles travelled, but it was worth it to show our respect to the family and to let them know we wont forget Stuart.
When I got home and while unpacking my things I noticed white sand, Islay sand.
A little bit of Islay had come back with me.
The next time I hear Westering Home being sung it may bring a tear to my eye but it will always remind me of Stuart.
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| Stuart MacNeill |
(If you have never heard Westering Home here is a Youtube link to the corries version https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eg0w3XJmq2Q )
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