Robert BurnsLimited World Federation Limited www.rbwf.org.uk 1982 The digital conversion of this Burns Chronicle was sponsored by Irvine Lasses Burns Club in memory of the Club Co-founders Rosalind Keyte & Anne Gaw The digital conversion service was provided by DDSR Document Scanning by permission of the Robert Burns World Federation Limited to whom all Copyright title belongs. www.DDSR.com BURNS CHRONICLE 1982 BURNS CHRONICLE AND CLUB DIRECTORY INSTITUTED 1891 FOURTH SERIES: VOLUME VII PRICE: Paper £3.00, Cloth £3 .75; (Members £2 .00 and £2.50 respectively). CONTENTS Mrs. Mollie Rennie 4 i'rom the Editor 6 The Leicester Conference, 1980 Janet Cutting 8 Obituaries 10 Book Reviews 15 Covington Mains Cairn A. A. Scott 20 A Greeting frae Paisley oan ae Janwar Nicht T.G.11 21 Personality Parade 22 Kittle Kattie G. K. Murray 29 A Bannerette from a Burns Club Robert Kirk 30 Mauchline Burns Club-Within and Without D. I. Lyell 31 Irvine Lasses Burns Club 32 Young Burnsians: Burns Federation Schools Competitions James Glass 34 Leith Academy Burns Club Robert Ward 36 A Star for Glasgow Schools Archie McArthur 37 Burns Federation Art Competition 38 Children's Competition in Fife 39 Glebe Primary School, Irvine Margaret Cook 40 The North American Conference, 1980 42 Rosamond Club Presentation 48 The Burns Window in Crown Court Church, London Jimmy Mason 49 Congratulations from Rabbie? David G. Blyth 51 Commemorative Stained Glass includes Roberts Burns 52 Settle that argument J. F. W. Thomson 53 In the Beginning Clark Hunter 54 Down amongst the Drones Stuart M. Wallace 59 Burns Bibliography Professor G. Ross Roy 60 Burns Festival, 1980 65 Producing Scotch Whisky Ian Wilson 66 The women in 8urns's poems and songs Dr. William J. Murray 70 Burns Night in Beijing 76 TheV.l.P.s David McGregor 77 St. Giles Cathedral-Robert Burns Memorial Window J. F. W. Thomson 78 The Jean Armour Burns Houses at Mauchline Peter Shaw 80 Epistle tae a Prince, frae a Pudden Roy Solomon 84 Robert Burns and the De'il Thomas Saunders 86 Canadian Postscript Hugh J. Bryden 89 Around the Clubs 91 The Burns Federation Office Bearers 104 List of Districts 109 Annual Conference Reports, 1980 115 Club Notes 128 Numerical List of Clubs on the Roll 189 Alphabetical List of Clubs on the Roll 231 The title photograph is from the Nasmyth portrait of Burns and is reproduced by courtesy of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery Published by the Burns Federation, Kilmarnock. Printed by Wm. Hodge & Co. Ltd, Glasgow ISBN 0307 8957 I' MRS. MOLLIE RENNIE Mollie Rennie has had the honour of being the second lady elected President of the Burns Federation. She was born and brought up in Cambuslang, on the outskirts of Glasgow, and lived there for most of her life, before moving to the Jean Armour Burns Houses at Mauchline in October 1980. She comes from a family of dedicated Burnsians, both parents being active in the Burns movement and holding office in their Burns Clubs. Her mother was the first lady ever to serve on the Executive Committee of the Federation. Mollie joined the Mary Campbell Burns Club in 1948, and became Secretary of the Lanarkshire Association in 1957, a position which she held for four years. In 1958 she became representative for New Zealand and continued in that capacity until 1979 when she became Senior Vice-President of the Federation. She has a family of two girls and a boy, all married with families; Mollie now has seven grandchildren. She trained as a confectioner, later becoming a catering manager. She has travelled extensively to Burns suppers, in Moscow, Leningrad, Canada and Denmark, and this year spoke at thirteen Burns Dinners. She is extremely versatile in this respect, doing the Immortal Memory and the reply to the Lassies, as well as singing and reciting the Address to the Haggis. 5 FROM THE EDITOR YER the past dozen years I have visited Australia several times on business. On those 0 occasions I flew from one capital city to another, lived it up at the Parmelia or the Wentworth, attended a number of business functions and did various radio and television interviews. Each time, however, I came away with the feeling that there had to be more to Australia than publishers' offices and TV studios; and just as one de luxe hotel is pretty much like another these days, so also the down-town areas of big cities are not so very different the world over. My last trip, in March, therefore, was pure self-indulgence--though some might consider it more in the nature of an endurance test. In less than a month I covered over 16,000 miles by road and rail, miraculously escaping the worst effects of the Qantas and New South Wales Railway strikes, and savouring the delights of Dandenong and Darwin, the amenities of Curtin Springs and the cuisine in Cocklebiddy and Three Ways. By the end of the month I had a much better idea of the immensity of Australia and its vast emptiness, diametrically opposite to all my previous impressions. Obviously any country, which is virtually the same area as the United States but only supports 14 million people (two thirds of whom live in the state capitals), must have a lot of open spaces. My only previous experience of the Outback had been visits to King's Park in Perth, but the real thing is difficult to describe. From Darwin to Adelaide, a distance of more than 2,000 miles that is comparable to the distance between London and Jerusalem, the great bulk of the terrain is red sand-enlivened this year (thanks to exceptionally heavy rains in January) by an astonishing profusion of flowers and plants. About 600 miles of the highway, from the Northern Territory border to Woomera, is unsealed--a euphemism that conceals the most horrendous corrugations, potholes, ruts and choking red dust. Imagine a journey as long as the drive from London to Inverness in those conditions! By contrast, my crossing of the continent from Perth to Sydney was accomplished in the height of luxury and comfort aboard Australia's Indian-Pacific, arguably the last of the great trains in the world. The journey takes the best part of four days and three nights and the train is more like a travelling hotel, with a tradition for superb cuisine (the chef was trained at Gleneagles). The well-appointed club car even boasted a piano and during the lull between the first and second sittings of breakfast on the first day out I seized the opportunity when no one else was around to try it out. I retired to my roomette about 8.30 p.m., hoping for an early night, but shortly thereafter there was a knock on my door. 'You were playing the piano this morning', the Senior Car Attendant accused me, 'so we need you for our concert.' He was a great deal bigger than me so I could hardly refuse. I said that I had no music, but I did not get off that easily. Apparently no passenger on the Indian-Pacific worth his or her salt travels without a song-book, while John, the Senior Car Attendant. a fine Irish tenor in the John MacCormick tradition. produced a massive sheaf of music. Suffice it to say that we were still at it at midnight-really only I 0.30 p.m. (Western Australian time) but we had to put our watches forward an hour and a half during the ceilidh when we crossed the border into South Australia. I cannot imagine many sing-songs where you have to put your watch back or forward at half time! Once I had got the hang of the rhythm of the locomotive and could get my fingers on the right keys most of the time the quality of the music improved. It is disconcerting to play a piano at 60 6 miles an hour; even Liberace isn't that fast. I was fortunate in having an undemanding audience, mainly wanting the old faithfuls from 'Amazing Grace' to 'Danny Boy'. Someone had a Welsh song-book, another a volume of Irish songs, and b~fore the night was out I'd learned a few Aussie convict and sheep-shearing ballads. But undoubtedly the most moving experience for me was to play the auld Scotch sangs. Admittedly, there is something bizarre and surreal about the strains of 'I Belang tae Glesca' in the warm night air of the Nullarbor Desert. and I wondered momentarily what the odd passing kangaroo or stray camel would be making of that. Inevitably it was a selection of Burns' songs that proved my undoing. An Irish tenor and a Scots-Australian baritone are a pretty powerful combination, but their sensitive rendition of such haunting ballads as 'The Lass o' Ballochmyle', 'My Luve is like a red, red Rose' and 'Sweet Afton' was a wonderful experience by any standards. When they got to 'Of a' the Airts the Wind can Blaw', however, the tears streamed unstrained down my manly cheeks. 'Is the smoke getting to you, Jock?' John enquired. 'No.' I snuffled, 'I think it's my jet-lag catching up with me!' On my last day in Australia I fulfilled a long-felt desire and had a swim at Swanbourne on the outskirts of Perth. This was another experience that proved my undoing. Not looking where I was going, I stumbled on the beach and stubbed my big toe on a boulder, almost detaching my toe-nail in the process.