My Mum, sister, and I moved to Cornhill-on-Tweed in the 1970s, where my Mum taught at Cornhill First School for many years. My sister and I spent hours playing in the stream at the bottom of the field behind our house, which ran through the old mill and into the Tweed. We stayed away from the big River Tweed with its dark, swirling currents – it wasn’t something to be messed with! We’d see so much wildlife and bring home all sorts of things in jars to show our Mum. I still vividly remember watching two otters play beside the bridge at the old mill – the only time I’ve seen otters in the wild. They didn’t fit into a jar, sadly!
In the 1980s, we helped at the village riding stables on weekends, and on a hot summer day, we finally got to go in the big river. A few of us rode the horses bareback down the road, past the old mill, straight into the water, staying on their backs and hoping it wouldn’t rise over our boots. It was quite the thrill! I think we only did it once or twice, but the memory has lasted decades. It’s one of my fondest village memories.
