IN PRAISE OF THE CROFTER'S COTTAGE.

I

 Even before my first voyage through the Outer Hebrides I was fascinated by the vernacular architecture of the black houses. My father made several trip over in later life, and I was particularly interested in his photos of derelict and decaying houses. Having wandered from Barra to the Butt of Lewis several time over the past fifteen years I’ve seen a few changes. In this respect the islands are no different to the mainland as new houses seem to sprout up like mushrooms overnight. I can well understand why people in the 1920’s and 30’s wanted to move out of the dark black houses and into the new Department of Agriculture designed crofters cottages. Sash windows in every room meant for the first time the interior could be light. However thinner walls, even when covered in V lining also meant a serious amount of peat or coal was required to heat the place. Today’s hermetically sealed, well insulated and triple glazed houses are a world away from that, but my preference is still for the traditional crofter cottage. My own cottage was stripped back to the bare bones before introducing insulation and damp course, but all the interior timber was kept and put back along with its charm. I have often heard it said that location is everything and certainly many of these cottages can boast a magnificent location.

Cottage on South Uist perched high with a view of Loch Boisdale.

Tin roofs are still a common feature on all the islands and the irrational romantic artist that I am will always be drawn to a colourful bit of rust. Many of the earlier stone built cottages were originally thatched in heather or straw, while some later houses were built entirely of corrugated iron with only the chimney being built of brick or block. Today that chimney might be the only thing remaining that indicates the site as being habited. Many of the black houses no longer had a central chimney, and a cast concrete or brick chimney was built at one end. Alternatively the interior was divided by a chimney wall and the smoky peat filled rooms became a thing of the past. 

  For a time during the mid-20^th century the domed Nissan hut was popular but few remain now. When I first stopped to sketch this Nissan hut on South Uist it was complete with windows and doors, but two years later the half round black tarred tin had flown leaving just the end gable and an outside toilet.

During the second half of the 20^th century the crofter’s cottages were upgraded to include a bathroom but many also suffered greatly when adapted and modernised. The most shocking of these so called improvements was the removal of the dormer windows, replacing them with a long box window or worse still raising the entire front creating a flat roof. This is simply not a good look from any angle. Those with double sashes on the ground floor often had the central division removed and metal framed replacement windows installed. Despite the net curtains flapping at the back window this lone cottage on the Isle of Eriskay was uninhabited. This fine example had a well-proportioned porch, a scullery extension at the rear and a useful shed on one gable end. Below were the roofless walls of black houses from a bygone age. The artist’s sense of beauty for the rustic thatch, rusting tin and lichen covered walls counts for little during the reality of harsh winter months and my romanticized visions are fit only for a framed image of times past. 

While visiting the old cemetery on Bernaray I continued my walk following a trail of mushrooms. Over the ridge I came across another abandoned house. What was once the front garden, was now full of stinging nettles beyond the pair of ball topped gate posts.  Although showing all the outward signs of a typical crofter’s cottage this house had four dormer windows. The porch had long since blown away which gave it a rather vacant look with just two windows on the ground floor. Circling my way around the back I discovered the kitchen window had blown in, and while the v-lining was collapsing all the furniture remained. I clambered in and made my way through into the dining room complete with gas light fittings and a large mahogany side board filling the back wall. Through in the hall a coat stand leaned at a precarious angle as the floor boards crumbled beneath it. In the parlour there was more light, on the wall a text declared “I will trust and not be afraid, God is my salvation”, and on the chair was a rather out of place grey telephone. Upstairs one bedroom was complete with chaise longe, while asleep on the bed in the second bedroom was the remains of the last occupant, a very dead and desiccated furless cat. This at one time had been a fine home.

 

 

These cottages, whether stone built, cast concrete or tin were constructed internally entirely of wood. The name Hepburn is written in chalk on the underside of each tread of the staircase in my cottage, and I’ve seen that same suppliers name in other houses on Lewis. 

When in 2022 my crofter’s cottage was unanimously voted BBC Scotland home of the year, I assumed that maybe now with the island council also agreeing that these old houses should be renovated that the demolition would stop. However, before the year was out one of the oldest cottages in my own village was demolished and consigned in its entirety to the dump. Built in 1909 the interior was crammed with all the old furniture, but this also suffered the same fate. Yes, without damp course or insulation, and having stood unoccupied for years the interior was a mess. Later wall paper hung from the ceilings and walls, and the v-lining bellied out from the internal walls. As with my own house the interior would have needed to be carefully removed while the ground floor was dug out and walls exposed for damp proofing and insulation. I managed to save some of the v-lining from the roof of this cottage before demolition, and was not surprised to discover that there was absolutely no wood worm in the entire house. The timber is fabulous being slow grown pine and far better than anything you could buy today. With a few of the boards I have started work on making a dolls croft house. It pleases me to think that there will at least be a little bit of life after death.

In recent years there has been a trend to paint the exterior of houses white. This has happened over the length and breadth of the UK, but particularly on the west coast. Down in Cornwall, charming little granite cottages are still being painted white. It has become a selling point and even I in my needlework images of sheep will include a white walled and red roofed cottage. When I first started the renovation of my crofter’s cottage it was suggested that if I painted it white it would be worth significantly more. It is often the first thing a new owner will do and there are several that seem to have run out of money being only half painted. A publicity photograph promoting the islands will always try and include a white painted cottage, so it didn’t surprise me when a photo of my own house as it is today, in its drab grey harling appeared in the local paper, described as the winning house before renovation. I will not be painting it, or the crofter's doll's house white.