Paternal family history                

                                                  

My father was Ian McHamish, only son of George and Charlotte McHamish, of Balloch, Dunbartonshire.  He was born on 23 Dec 1911 at Alexandra hospital, near Balloch.

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Charlotte was a Robertson, and was born to the innkeepers at Inverbeg, up Loch Lomond.  Not sure where George was born – somewhere in Glasgow.   No idea where the name McHamish came from – nobody had or had to have surnames in Scotland until late in the 19th century. The only other McHamish was Jim, George’s brother, and all that family are in Yorkshire.

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They had a bungalow, “Valhalla” which they had built, opposite the Glasgow-Balloch railway line, on Tullichewan Road, close to the station.  George was in the motor trade, and there was a garage holding about 6 cars next to the house.  When Malcolm Campbell was breaking water speed records on the loch, George drove him about.  He like his drink – a wee dram.  They say that when he had been banned from driving, he would sit customers for a drive up the side of the loch in the driving seat so that they would get a better view of it. 

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One of my grandfather’s favourite sayings was “The ways of men are many, but the gates of heaven are wide”

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My granny (and all her friends) shopped at the co-operative store, pronounced “co-operAtive”

My grandmother used to do bed-and-breakfast in the guest bedroom, decamping into the hut next to the house if they needed the main bedroom.  She had a roller ironing machine, and if the sheets were not too dirty would re-iron them and put them on for the next guests – “They’ll no tell the difference!”

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We went to visit them during a trip to the UK in the very cold winter of 1946-47.  I was 4, and can remember being in the Alexandria hospital having my tonsils and adenoids out – de rigeur in those days.  I also remember getting ice cream at Roccocioli’s corner shop on the Tullichewan Road.  Italians were big in ice cream in Scotland, and they even had ice cream wars in Glasgow.  When we were in Barga, northern Tuscany, 15 years ago, there were lots of Scots accents about, of returned Scottish immigrants.  Instead of “Eh, signore!” you might be getting “Oi, Jimmy”!

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We went to the UK by ship – the Highland something or other.  The trip took about 3 weeks.  I can remember a celebration, crew and passengers, as we crossed the equator, and being tossed up and down in a sheet.  But most of all I can remember a passenger who could play the harmonica to entertain his fellow-passengers, and looking at him really hard and really believing that by wishing and wishing really hard he would let me have a go.  He never did, no matter how hard I wished.

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My grandfather died in about 1955, and my grandmother in about 1965.  Valhalla was sold shortly thereafter.  

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My grandmother had a relative, Charlotte, who never married, and who was very nice, living in the Pier Head cottage at Luss, a very picturesque village a few miles up Loch Lomond.