Where were you when you heard the news

... of Chairman Mao's death? I was here at Dairy Cottage, in the grounds of Ardchattan Priory, on the shores of Loch Etive. I was eleven, and had never heard of Mao, but I realised from the tone of the radio announcer's voice that the news was important, so I went to find my aunt, Susan, to share it with her.

Andrew and Susan rented a cottage in the grounds of the Priory for around four years before their own house was built. They had a small but growing family, and space was tight. I do not think that the dormer windows seen here were there then: there were just two bedrooms, and three rooms downstairs. I spent many happy half terms and parts of holidays there as a child, and it suited me well.

We visited the priory and its gardens today with CleanSteve's long lost relatives from Australia. A tidal wave of memories came back to me: playing among the historic tombstones in the ruined part of the priory; reading poetry books in sunshine in the walled tennis courts; seeing my first ever fireworks display in the old (dry) fishpond; being allowed into the priory itself to borrow books, by kind permission of the Laird.

Now the Laird is gone, and his son has planted a wildflower meadow where the wired tennis court used to be, with a stone monument engraved "I will lift my eyes up to the hills, whence cometh my aid". It seems fitting, in this uniquely West Highland location.

There was a dairy here once, and a dairy herd. The milk was delivered locally (including to my mother's house) by a man named Archie. It cost seven pence a pint, and came in tall waxed cartons with trees on them. Then a rule came in that the milk had to be sent to Paisley to be pasteurised ( Paisley is around eighty miles away) so that spelled the death knoll. My uncle Andrew was never the dairyman, but I am sure that the present occupants of Dairy Cottage have no dairy connections either.

It's now nearly 1 am, and my mother, niece and I have spent around three quarters of an hour fixing the loo flush with a spot of DIY. In between wrestling with nasty wet things and holding up the ballcock so we didn't get even wetter, we kept going by practising the hymns that my mother was supposedly rehearsing for church tomorrow!

There's a fete at Ardchattan Priory tomorrow, so more scenes of jollity will follow.