Holiday Memories

We first came to Coll in 1952 and stayed at the Hotel which was then run by Mrs Mary MacQuarrie, ably assisted by Bunty (now Bunty Kennedy). It was a small hotel, with all the atmosphere of a distinguished Club. We all dined at one big table in what is now the lounge, and on one dreadful occasion one of our dogs quietly removed and consumed all the cold lobster from the salads laid out for everyone. It was replaced by Spam.

Mrs MacQuarrie did all her cooking on a mysterious range called a Bungalow belle, augmented by a Beatrice oil stove. Unfortunately the Bungalow Belle would heat the water or the oven, but not both. Coming in off the hill, sometimes wet and cold and dreaming of a hot bath, we would sneak into the kitchen and turn the damper to 'hot water'. A little later Mary would notice that the damper was in the wrong place for cooking dinner and turn it back to 'oven'. We all hoped this would not happen until the water was hot enough for baths.

I have not mentioned Mary's son Hector, who used to look after the bar. He used to sleep behind the bar, too - not, I hasten to add, while it was operational, but in those days the hotel was small and all accommodation might be taken. Then, Hector used to stretch out behind the bar and sleep in peace. I imagine he had some sort of camp bed stashed away, but the facts remain obscure.

It was in Mary MacQuarrie's tenure of the Hotel that we met 'Fergie', Uncle Billie (William Colyer-Fergusson), who was staying there while his house, Craigdarroch, was being done up for him. I gathered that the estate joiner had lived in the house during the war. Subsequently we started to rent Craigdarroch from Fergie for holidays - he used to go and stay with his sister, Mrs Hinkson, at Airidhvurich. Finally we bought Craigdarroch from Fergie just before his marriage to Tib Fairburn.

The next incumbents at the Hotel were Guy and Jean Jardine. Jean was a superb cook and used to make a wonderful dinner for my birthday in August. On one occasion I had asked for curry, which Jean did extra well. Sir Ian Colquhoun happened to be in on his boat and was eating in the dining room. I don't think he liked curry: "I understand I have you to thank for this," he said gloomily!

Guy presided behind the bar. He smoked a pipe and he would get it going satisfactorily and then lay it down in the ash tray while he served drinks. It inevitably went out and had to be re-lit with clouds of smoke. This pattern repeated itself constantly throughout the evening. One night Hamish MacRae and his father were in the bar. When Guy laid his pipe down, Hamish's father quietly picked it up and replaced the tobacco with dried onion skins. In due course, Guy came back to his pipe and started to light it. He took a great puff of dried onion skins and nearly exploded. The bar was in fits of laughter and, to give Guy his due, he laughed once he had got his breath back!

One of the great things about the island in those days was how welcoming everyone was. Of course the proportion of visitors and incomers was less compared to the indigenous population but we were never made to feel like outsiders or intruders. This was superb for visitors, but they had to play their part too. We were careful not to upset people, not to 'throw our weight around' as the saying of that time was. Nowadays I suppose one would say that we kept a moderately low profile, and it paid dividends. Those very few who did not do this took some time to live down the initial bad impression that they made.

I hope that the friendliness of Coll does not change. There are so many more visitors and incomers now, that this might happen and the old friendly spirit might be changed. I would hate to see that happen. As one of the oldest of the 'summer swallows' can I appeal to incomers to do their best about fitting in with the easy island ways?

K.A.H. Cassells