A Dressed Red Herring
Created | Updated May 22, 2007
I was always an exciting time for me, the lustre of Christmas had started to tarnish a little when suddenly along comes The New Year. Suddenly the house when into overdrive, everything had be cleaned. All the wrappings and trappings of Christmas was removed and toys tidied away to ones bedroom from the place they had been lying since Christmas.
Christmas was never a big celebration in my house mainly because if it fell on a week day then it was work as usual for the men of the house, or at least until lunchtime.
Presents were opened before breakfast but not properly looked at by the adults at least until afternoon when everyone gathered prior to the Christmas meal around five pm.
But New Year, well that was different, everyone was on holiday that day.
The day before New Year, Hogmanay as it is called here in Scotland is when it all starts. I would dance around all day on tenterhooks waiting for tea to be passed and the preparation to begin.
The front room fire had been lit earlier in the day and now the musty smell was gone as the room was only used for special occasions such as a visit by the Minister or Kirk Elder or a funerals and such like. Plates of shortbread and cake were carried through from the kitchen and arranged on the sideboard. A bottle of whiskey, a bottle of gin and a bottle of sherry were also displayed along with the home made ginger wine which I could not wait to sample, the warmth as it hit the back of your throat can never be forgotten.
A bowl of fruit and a dish of nuts was placed on an occasional table to the side of the fire. At this point the green baize lined top drawer of the sideboard was frantically racked through to find the nut crackers which were to be given their annual outing. I always thought that walnuts were a bit of a waste as they shattered under the pressure of the crackers and you had to pick out small crumbs of nut and sometimes got shell in stead.
Around eight o’ clock my mother would tell me to get my coat on as it was time to go. It was the tradition you see, my mother, her brother and I would venture forth down to the town centre where we would meet up with my Uncles pal and his fiancée and we would all do the Overgate.
The Overgate on that one night of the year was a magical wonderful place full of mystery and excitement for a boy of ten. However by day it was a sombre dismal place coming rapidly to the end of it’s life and due for redevelopment. But on that night, that one magical night it became a wonderland. Stalls or barrows as they were called as that was what they were, wheel barrows with decorated canopies were lined up alone one side of the narrow street. Each barrow lit by a tilley lamp hung from it’s roof and reflecting shafts of coloured light as they swung in the wind and illuminated the coloured canvas awnings that formed there roofs.
There were barrows selling fruit, some selling white and pink sugar mice, coloured candy walking sticks, large rainbow coloured lollypops, sticky toffee and every other kind of sweet that could be imagined. Some barrows sold paper hats and cardboard trumpets and all manner of fancy dress. Straw hats with “Kiss me Quick” and “I’ll be yours” printed round the brim and balloons of all colours.
But the stall that held the most fascination was the one that sold the Dressed Red Herring or Reed Herins as they were know. A dressed red herring is a herring that has been smoked over a oak fire a talent of the good folk of Arbroath. Then it is wrapped in brightly coloured crepe paper teased out at the top to make a frill round the fish’s neck. The head is left to protrude. Then a second crepe is applied in the manner of a dress with a larger frill going up round the back of the fish’s head. A ribbon is then applied around the middle of the fish and formed into a bow at the rear. This bow is used to hang the fish up by as the fish is left hanging in the recipient’s house, sometimes for the best part of a year, as a good luck charm.
Several red herrings would be purchased and wrapped in old newspaper and carried home along with the other items such as calendars and sweets which were also bought from the barrows. The object of the exercise was to arrive home before midnight as one did not want to be one’s own “first foot” a Scottish term for the first person to cross the threshold after the striking of midnight. The purchased items had to be left outside the house as to bring them in before midnight would be bad luck, so they would be set down under a nearby bush in the garden next to the front door.
Around half past eleven my Uncle would leave the house to go and meet up with some friends. At five to the hour my mother and grandmother would go into overdrive. All ashtrays were emptied, the kitchen bin cleaned out, all dishes that were lying around were washed and put away. Even the ashes from the fire place was shovelled up and taken out. All this had to be accomplished before “the bells”
Back in nineteen fifty three we had no television to tell us when the old year ended and the new one began. My mother would take the front and rear doors of the latch the reason being to let the old year out the rear and the new one in the front door.
Then we would sit and wait for the sound of the rocket being fired from the City Square, it’s scream and bang could be heard all over Dundee.
Moments later a knock would come to the door. I would hold by breath with anticipation. My Grandmother as matriarch would answer the door to be met with hopefully a tall, dark, handsome man, as these were the requirements for a “First foot”
And sure enough standing on the threshold would be the said first foot Red Herring in one hand, a lump of coal in the other and a half bottle in his coat pocket as you never entered a house empty handed so to speak.
After the traditional greeting of “A happy New Year” the first foot would proceed to the lounge where he would ceremonially pace the lump of coal on the fire and utter the words “lang may you’re lum reek”
Usually after that the doorbell never stopped ringing and the house filled with people. For my part after a glass of ginger wine and a piece of shortbread I was glad to be put to bed as by now tiredness had caught up with me and I would be sitting behind the sofa half asleep.
As for the red herring, well it would spend the next two months at least hanging from the pulley rope hook in the kitchen until spring and the flies forced my mother to part company with the beast.
Christmas was never a big celebration in my house mainly because if it fell on a week day then it was work as usual for the men of the house, or at least until lunchtime.
Presents were opened before breakfast but not properly looked at by the adults at least until afternoon when everyone gathered prior to the Christmas meal around five pm.
But New Year, well that was different, everyone was on holiday that day.
The day before New Year, Hogmanay as it is called here in Scotland is when it all starts. I would dance around all day on tenterhooks waiting for tea to be passed and the preparation to begin.
The front room fire had been lit earlier in the day and now the musty smell was gone as the room was only used for special occasions such as a visit by the Minister or Kirk Elder or a funerals and such like. Plates of shortbread and cake were carried through from the kitchen and arranged on the sideboard. A bottle of whiskey, a bottle of gin and a bottle of sherry were also displayed along with the home made ginger wine which I could not wait to sample, the warmth as it hit the back of your throat can never be forgotten.
A bowl of fruit and a dish of nuts was placed on an occasional table to the side of the fire. At this point the green baize lined top drawer of the sideboard was frantically racked through to find the nut crackers which were to be given their annual outing. I always thought that walnuts were a bit of a waste as they shattered under the pressure of the crackers and you had to pick out small crumbs of nut and sometimes got shell in stead.
Around eight o’ clock my mother would tell me to get my coat on as it was time to go. It was the tradition you see, my mother, her brother and I would venture forth down to the town centre where we would meet up with my Uncles pal and his fiancée and we would all do the Overgate.
The Overgate on that one night of the year was a magical wonderful place full of mystery and excitement for a boy of ten. However by day it was a sombre dismal place coming rapidly to the end of it’s life and due for redevelopment. But on that night, that one magical night it became a wonderland. Stalls or barrows as they were called as that was what they were, wheel barrows with decorated canopies were lined up alone one side of the narrow street. Each barrow lit by a tilley lamp hung from it’s roof and reflecting shafts of coloured light as they swung in the wind and illuminated the coloured canvas awnings that formed there roofs.
There were barrows selling fruit, some selling white and pink sugar mice, coloured candy walking sticks, large rainbow coloured lollypops, sticky toffee and every other kind of sweet that could be imagined. Some barrows sold paper hats and cardboard trumpets and all manner of fancy dress. Straw hats with “Kiss me Quick” and “I’ll be yours” printed round the brim and balloons of all colours.
But the stall that held the most fascination was the one that sold the Dressed Red Herring or Reed Herins as they were know. A dressed red herring is a herring that has been smoked over a oak fire a talent of the good folk of Arbroath. Then it is wrapped in brightly coloured crepe paper teased out at the top to make a frill round the fish’s neck. The head is left to protrude. Then a second crepe is applied in the manner of a dress with a larger frill going up round the back of the fish’s head. A ribbon is then applied around the middle of the fish and formed into a bow at the rear. This bow is used to hang the fish up by as the fish is left hanging in the recipient’s house, sometimes for the best part of a year, as a good luck charm.
Several red herrings would be purchased and wrapped in old newspaper and carried home along with the other items such as calendars and sweets which were also bought from the barrows. The object of the exercise was to arrive home before midnight as one did not want to be one’s own “first foot” a Scottish term for the first person to cross the threshold after the striking of midnight. The purchased items had to be left outside the house as to bring them in before midnight would be bad luck, so they would be set down under a nearby bush in the garden next to the front door.
Around half past eleven my Uncle would leave the house to go and meet up with some friends. At five to the hour my mother and grandmother would go into overdrive. All ashtrays were emptied, the kitchen bin cleaned out, all dishes that were lying around were washed and put away. Even the ashes from the fire place was shovelled up and taken out. All this had to be accomplished before “the bells”
Back in nineteen fifty three we had no television to tell us when the old year ended and the new one began. My mother would take the front and rear doors of the latch the reason being to let the old year out the rear and the new one in the front door.
Then we would sit and wait for the sound of the rocket being fired from the City Square, it’s scream and bang could be heard all over Dundee.
Moments later a knock would come to the door. I would hold by breath with anticipation. My Grandmother as matriarch would answer the door to be met with hopefully a tall, dark, handsome man, as these were the requirements for a “First foot”
And sure enough standing on the threshold would be the said first foot Red Herring in one hand, a lump of coal in the other and a half bottle in his coat pocket as you never entered a house empty handed so to speak.
After the traditional greeting of “A happy New Year” the first foot would proceed to the lounge where he would ceremonially pace the lump of coal on the fire and utter the words “lang may you’re lum reek”
Usually after that the doorbell never stopped ringing and the house filled with people. For my part after a glass of ginger wine and a piece of shortbread I was glad to be put to bed as by now tiredness had caught up with me and I would be sitting behind the sofa half asleep.
As for the red herring, well it would spend the next two months at least hanging from the pulley rope hook in the kitchen until spring and the flies forced my mother to part company with the beast.
