My
maiden name was Herbert, and in the churchyard of the Corstorphine Old Parish
church there is a tombstone erected in memory of my great great great grandparents, William Herbert (1776-1828) and Margaret Boyes (1786-1858), and also several other
family members whose names are listed. Herberts had been engaged in farming in
Corstorphine, on the outskirts of Edinburgh, for several generations. (Before that, they lived in Monmouthshire, in the border country between England and Wales.)
The
first time I visited this churchyard was with my parents and younger siblings
when I was fifteen. I visited again at the age of
twenty-five during my OE; and I went a third time in 1997 when I was in Scotland with Bill and our two children. On
these last two visits I went instinctively, unerringly to the church, which
is up a side street; and I went with equal confidence to the gravestone.
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| Ann Herbert at the Herbert family tombstone, Corstorphine Old Parish Church, 1972 |
Now, in July 2017, I came once again to Corstorphine Old Parish Church, this time to attend the morning service of worship as well as to pay my respects at the gravestone. Perhaps it is because I am aging; or perhaps it is simply that I was tired, near the end of a long overseas trip, but I had to ask directions to the church, and when I got there I could not find the gravestone. I noticed several gravestones lying on their faces and wondered if it was one of these. It was a glorious sunny morning, and since there was still time before the service began, I photographed the exterior of the church, which was founded in 1429.
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| Corstorphine Old Parish Church, July 2017 Photo: Ann Barrie |
The minister was away on holiday with her children, but the congregation had enthusiastically adopted her stand-in, a trainee minister with a magnificent voice; and soon I was mesmerised too. He based his sermon on a passage from one of St Paul’s letters, and near the end of his delivery he commented that he, personally, can’t wait until the day when he can frolic over the hills. I found this poignant because this young man has a badly withered right arm and a pronounced limp.
After the service had finished, I asked permission to photograph the interior of this beautiful church.
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| Corstorphine Old Parish Church, July 2017 Photo: Ann Barrie |
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| Corstorphine Old Parish Church, July 2017 Photo: Ann Barrie |
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| Corstorphine Old Parish Church, July 2017 Photo: Ann Barrie |
Then I joined the congregation for tea and coffee in the parish hall. One of the people I chatted to was an eighty-four-year old man who had been attending this church since he was three and a half years old. Like my late husband, Bill, he was forced to leave school at age fourteen, and, like Bill, he found his two years of national service a great education. He too spent time in Malta, although in his case it was a one-week stopover en route to British Kenya, where the British were engaged in the fight against the Mau Mau.
I mentioned the other purpose for my visit, and one of the church members explained to me that several tombstones had fallen over of their own accord; and others had been laid on their backs for health and safety reasons by the Corstorphine Council which is responsible for the graveyard. There are plans afoot to dig a trench and then stand the fallen tombstones upright again and concrete them into place. This helpful church member used his smartphone to search the graveyard records and identify where the Herbert tombstone would be. Then he kindly led me to the spot. So my visit to Corstorphine Old Parish Church was a happy one from start to finish.
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| Ann Herbert Barrie at the Herbert family tombstone, Corstorphine Old Parish Church, July 2017 |
Blog by Ann Barrie
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