So, I went to Barvas on the 10.30 Ness bus. At the Loch Street junction, I changed ino another bus, which took me right to the end of the street. This bus was packed full of people from the West Side who were coming into town for shopping. Got off at the end of the street, and found my address staring in my face. After knocking on the wrong door, I was let in by Margaret Joan MacLeod (who I'll refer to as MJ after this, for brevity's sake). I had been advised that she would have more information and names for project Timbertown. MJ used to be a teacher, but had to give it up to look after her mother. She is very elderly and frail following a major operation. Although not a lot of info is forthcoming, MJ goes out of her way to ring around the area to try to find folk whose ancestors were in the internment camp. The internees are now all deceased, and their descendants elderly themselves. It's beginning to sound like the experiences from HMS Timbertown (click here to go to website) have been taken into the grave by those that were there. MJ got her neighbour in, Donald Morrison, and tries another relative, who unfortunately is off to town for the day. I'm plied with tea and cakes. House is warm, but quite modest. A peatfire is lit for me. It appears MJ has gone out on walks with the Barvas & Brue Historical Society, to the Barvas Hills, 6 miles to the south. Next year they want to walk to Muirneag, a fair old distance. She also tells the story of a circular walk from Maraig to Reinigeadal and Urgha, return by Lacasdal Lochs. The ascent from Loch Trollamaraig is brutal, and none the better in pouring rain. I take my leave at 2.15, when the bus comes up Loch Street. At the junction with the main road through the village, I change into a bus, bound for Stornoway. I was back in town some 20 minutes later, at 2.40 pm. After a late lunch I ensconsed myself in the library for 2 hours, trawling through the Roll of Honour 1914-1919. I found at least 105 names of people that were interned at Groningen during the Great War. Some of them had been awarded the 1914 Star or Mons Star medal, although officially all that had fought at Antwerp should have been awarded this decoration.
When I leave the library at 5.45, it's dark - small wonder, the sun sets at 4.30 pm. Mrs B is making mashedturnip and separately mashed potatoes with onion rings. Mind you, the turnip was fully organically grown, fertilised with seaweed. And mince balls, which I'm in charge of. I made them a bit too big.
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