No 58. Tackety Boots, pb 30.10.2009

A long time ago, but yesterday too. Rain On My Window (Tears in My Eyes) will be an ongoing tale of my early memories of life shared by my younger brother David on Whitehall Farm in Stronsay, Orkney, of our childhood on a working farm in the 1930s before we lost our innocence.


No 58. Tackety Boots.

It was in an article back in May 2008 that I touched on the subject of “Tackety Boots”. Well worth another look. Of all the articles of clothing worn by the men in my early days, Tackety Boots was the most worthy of mention. And the most important. Every day and all day the farm men walked at their work, be it in the field with the horses or in the buildings looking after their cattle or the shepherd walking his sheep. A well fitting pair of tackety boots was an absolute necessity, there was no room for “nearlies” about it. Worn they may be, have seen their best days as many a pair had, but functional as only an old friend can be.
Every village had it’s shoemaker. In Castletown after we came to Caithness in 1944 it was John Gunn, in Stronsay it was, among others, Peter Lennie, but I do not know if Peter was a proper shoemaker as such, more of a very good man at repairs. A neat old man when I knew him, he was certainly a good carter for our father during the herring season and a carter in his own right for the whole Island. A warm house along the beach just west from Norton’s Pier, Maggie with the kettle always singing gently at the back of the fire, ready for an instant cup of tea. One of our father’s very regular stops.

I remember father getting a pair made for him by John Gunn after we came to Caithness. Took many days to make in between repairs of a more pressing nature for others.

The niceties of boot making are not in my memory except now and again watching some aspect of the shoemakers art. It all looked so easy, but a well made and well fitted pair was an exquisite bit of work. Left foot and right foot could vary a bit, the shoemaker carefully measuring each foot for a new customer. In most cases he just remembered.
Made of the best usually imported horse hide, thick and tough. Take a piece of leather, cut the separate parts out to a pattern, a few iron sprigs and tacks, toe and heel plates and a length of strong linen waxed twine. To make a pair of boots out of that was a miracle in itself. Slightly thinner tanned leather for the uppers, thicker leather for the soles and heels. Metal eyes for the long leather strip laces to run through. A thin leather loop tab at the top of the heel to facilitate pulling them on in the morning!! Every shoemaker had his own idea of the pattern of hobnails to be kept on the soles, out of sight no doubt but often identifiable as his hallmark. A final polish in black.

The boots today might well look odd, but do not believe your eyes. The curved soles, rising to the turned up toes. The uppers came well up the ankle giving good protection and support. The leather tongue was well sewn in, good enough to be watertight, quite important when walking through wet grass or puddles or pouring rain. Indeed the whole boot was watertight. They were definitely NOT town boots.

Simple tools, sharp knife, patterns, a cobblers last of which he would have many sizes, an awl to drill the holes, a tap hammer, a strong needle to pass the thread, indeed two at a time sewing double, which is one thread each way. And that wonderful smell of new leather always around which today’s plastic cannot copy. . A pair would last for so long, looked after and treasured by the men.
The new boots would be admired for a time, then the process of looking after them for many years ahead. A tin of waterproof dubbin, warm the boots at the fire and rub in a layer both on the uppers and the soles. Hard work too, especially on the seams. The long leather laces would be dubbined and run through the hand. Leave a few days to absorb the dubbin, then another coat. Sometimes a gentle warming with a blow lamp turned well down, a near singeing perhaps, just enough to warm the leather. Helped the dubbin to soak in. Sometimes warm a spoon at the fire, handle held in a bit of rag, and smooth the back of the spoon on the leather for a final polish. An Army trick too. The new boots would be put on by the worker for the evening, going nowhere but getting them gently broken in, getting to know each other. Sometimes a gentle joke or two about wearing them in bed. Maybe they did !!!

Most if not every house had a shoe-last in the shed, taken into the kitchen in front of the fire to work on a pair of boots. I can never forget seeing Sincy Shearer our Whitehall foreman with the shoe last stood on the floor and supported between his knees, a tackety boot on it, his specks on his nose, a few hobnails or tacks kept handily ready between his lips, the tap tap as he hammered them home. Why the name “hobnails” I do not know, it must go back in history a long time. Clover leaf head and just so long that they did not penetrate the soles. Spare heel and toe plates as well.

Keeping Tackety Boots healthy was an every day task. Running repairs normally were to check on the toe and heel plates to see if they were firmly nailed on, any loose or missing nails being instantly replaced from the precious tack tin. A lost toe or heel plate had to be replaced right away, or a worn one as soon as possible.
The clover leaf headed tacks or hob nails set in their regulation pattern along the soles and heels of the boots were likeways taken care of. The boots really walked on iron, the men walking behind the horses shod also with their own iron horseshoes. When one thinks on it, leather however good could not stand up to the constant walking of farm work. Hence tackety boots.
Consider that the horsemen walked mile after long mile every day all year round following their horses. To plough an acre was a good days work with a pair of horses and a 7 inch wide furrow plough. That meant 15 miles of walking for one acre. Allow for going out to the field and home again twice in the day, going round the ends between bouts, and you are pretty near to twenty miles, Wick to Thurso in a straight line. EVERY DAY SAVE SUNDAY. All on tackety boots.

Holding the stilts of the plough and keeping the line of a straight furrow, looking after your horses though a well trained pair were pretty good themselves at keeping the furrow, and you will recognise why there were very few over-weight ploughmen in old photographs. I remember none at all.
Or the shepherd herding his sheep, the cattleman walking up and down the byres. No farm work was done sitting on ones **** as now we do. Boots were the foundation of their day. Tackety boots.

Looking after boots, new or old, was very important. Last thing at night after work was to clean them, wash if need be at the tap or sink or pond using a wisp of straw or a bit of an old sack, dry well at the fire but not too near. On a fine evening set them out on the window ledge or at the back door to dry. I remember one tragedy when a pair were set just too close to the fire, did not do the leather much good. Then a rub with dubbin, especially into the sewn seams. Black boot polish was sometimes used for that final shine. Dubbin was a khaki coloured wax like thick vaseline but could be bought black dyed already.
Tackety boots were every day and all day wear for farm work. Normally the men would have a good pair of lighter boots for Sunday and social events. The tackety boots may have looked odd with their upward curved toes but don’t you believe they were clumsy. Stronsay went to neighbouring Sanday for a football match, the complement (COMPLIMENT ) returned in due course. Tackety Boots did the job just as well as the super brands you see over-advertised today. Trousers tucked into socks, shirt sleeves rolled up, trousers held in place by suspender braces and an Army Surplus belt from the Army and Navy Stores. The men were as good as you could get, some very pretty players indeed. Sanday usually won.


Long years later after I went to Lower Dounreay and looking at old records, I found that the farms of Lower Dounreay and Upper Dounreay had enough men on each farm pre First World War to each form a team, perhaps not eleven men but enough. They played one farm against the other, needle matches. Tackety boots at their best no doubt!!