I have never wanted to check out the family folklore that we could be traced back to a dominie at the hamlet of Balquhidder in the Scottish highlands.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
My grandparents told endless stories about the town they were from. It became an almost mythic place.
The truth is, my folk-lore friends and my Saturday Reviewer differ with me on the important problem of the origin of folk-tales. They think that a tale probably originated where it was found.
My father was a creature of the archaic world, really. He would have been entirely at home in a Gaelic hill-fort. His side of the family, and the houses I associate with his side of the family, belonged to a traditional rural Ireland.
What I find interesting about folklore is the dialogue it gives us with storytellers from centuries past.
My maternal grandmother had what might be described in a school report as a 'lively imagination.' She told us that she was a direct descendant of Sir Christopher Wren.
The son of a Fife mining town sledder of coal-bings, bottle-forager, and picture-house troglodyte, I was decidedly urban and knew little about native fauna, other than the handful of birds I saw on trips to the beach or Sunday walks.
Growing up in England, I was constantly surrounded by the Arthurian legend.
There is something so quiet and so industrious, something so Viking about the Scots.
There's a lot of fantasy about what Scotland is, and the shortbread tins and that sort of thing.
Mum and I were delighted to find out we were descended from 'bog-trotters.'
No opposing quotes found.