Covid Pandemic 2020-2022.

The community response was tremendous. Funds were raised both for charities, and for individuals who were struggling to cope. As Slate Islands people swung into action, it seemed everyone had something to contribute, such as: 

In this way, at least £17,500 was raised, probably quite a lot more, considering that there might well have been many anonymous donations. 

Foremost in the list of Covid heroes, though, are the owner and staff at Balvicar Post Office and store, who not only organised food, newspaper, medicine and other deliveries to vulnerable locked-down people, but also hosted one-off fund-raising for McMillan Cancer Research and Seed for Life. Most importantly, they introduced the ‘give a little’ incentive to help people who were struggling financially, as they were unable to work.


The Roll Call of Honour

Swimming: the Blue Tits and Annie Anderson.

Walking on Luing: Ian Cruickshank.

Baking and poetry: Luing Home Bakers and Norman Bissell.

Pop-up shop for Slate Islands Heritage Trust: Catherine Shaw.

Visors and masks for NHS: Paul Vucovick.

Mini-triathlon: Jean Ainsley.

Ultrathon: Catherine Forsythe and Michelle Halbert.

Easdale baked treats: Keren Cafferty.

Buggy runs: Rachel Smith.

Walking for miles and miles: Willie Munro, sometimes accompanied by his daughter Tracy White.

British Legion Piper: D J Campbell.

Poppy Appeal: British Legion, mainly organised by Ron Hetherington with help from and Alice Clayton and others.

Gardens: Sheila Downie (An Cala) and Kimba Barett.

Walker from Bridge to Cuan Ferry: Isla Murdock. Head-shaved lady: Janette Sheldrick.

Mad Knitters of Easdale: Lynn Noble, May McGillveray, Ghalia Assad and Alice Clayton. 

Balvicar Stores: the Dugdale family, especially Wendy. But also Vanessa Neary and staff from Seafari who helped pack up and deliver essential supplies.

And last but definitely not least, our brilliant NHS staff: we thought it was the bees’ knees when our first vaccine dose was delivered by drone and filmed by ITN.


Memories from 2020

From Alice Clayton, Museum Curator and Easdale resident:

The first lock-down on Easdale Island in March 2020 didn’t really impinge on my life at all, as we had plenty of space to walk about and few restrictions on where we went and when. We were all in it together, and whilst obeying the social distancing rules, we felt that the whole island had been quarantined together.

The only downside was not being able to see or hug the family, especially my two-year old great, great niece, who wondered what she had done wrong, not to have cuddles on tap.

The whole island turned out for the Thursday Clap for NHS carers, and we had musical accompaniment and sometimes, even, cake. Everyone was friendlier and we never passed each other without a few words or a wave, or both. Keren from the Puffer Bar sent around fresh baking to everyone on Sundays. We were all very appreciative of this kind gesture, and looked forward to seeing which goody would arrive each week.

After we had done all our normal work and catch-up chores, some of us found time hanging heavy, until Lynn Noble started up the Mad Knitters of Easdale, and we went on to crochet, sew and knit items such as masks which we gave away to islanders for free, and nurse dolls which we sold to raise money for NHS charities. Our latest project is a commemorative Covid blanket, involving any Easdale resident who can knit or crochet. The aim is to display it in the island’s museum when it’s finished.

So, the Balvicar shop had started a shopping and medicines delivery service, with the help of staff from Seafari. The ferry between Easdale and Seil was now reserved for local residents, and tourist traffic banned to keep us all safe. All in all, I have to say that we have been a lot better off than those living in towns and cities.

The weather couldn’t have been better (most of the time) and the pandemic has brought the people on Easdale Island together- there is definitely a better feel to the place. When one of our residents had to cancel her 90th birthday celebrations as her family couldn’t come up north, the whole island turned out (socially distanced), singing, and leaving cake, presents and cards on her doorstep. It was such a lovely thing to do, and she, and indeed, we, will never forget it.


From Tim Sinclair, Seil Island resident and researcher for the Scottish Slate Islands Heritage Trust, September 2020:

"It could never happen in this country: people would just ignore it!" It was a glib remark for me to make. In January 2020 BBC news reported that the Chinese town of Wuhan had been ordered into lockdown, to reduce the spread of Covid-19. Such authoritarian measures seemed a world away.

When Britain went into lockdown just weeks later, politicians were surprised at our compliance. But folk were fearful. Supermarket shelves were empty of soap, tissues and toilet paper; and food was being hurriedly stockpiled by a nation behaving as if it were under siege. When our own groceries were delivered a few days later – our last delivery for many weeks – there was a fraction of what we had ordered and none of the essentials. I found myself counting the tins in our store cupboard, guessing how much fruit we might pick from our two gooseberry bushes, and wondering how to trap the rabbits that infest our garden. What would we do if predictions of food shortages proved correct?

As days turned into weeks, our local community seemed ever more determined to help each other. The village shop expanded its supply of fresh food and organized distribution through a team of volunteers. The giant supermarkets increased their deliveries too, but our village shop seemed to lead the way. The surgery changed how consultations would take place and how prescriptions would be collected, giving folk confidence that patients and medical staff alike would be safe. Care-workers wrestled with Individual Protective Equipment as they cheerfully helped those who needed personal care at home. The Community Council updated islanders online; and I joined their Facebook page, preferring to get the facts as they would affect me, rather than trust a national media too eager to sensationalize world events. Everywhere people looked out for each other.

As weeks became months we waited for someone to tell us it was over. We wanted the referee to blow his whistle for the end of the match. We yearned for victory and celebration; and then a return to the routine of our lives. But the referee has not blown his whistle. The match drags on, well into injury time, and the players are looking fed up.

In her 2017 book The Children of Jocasta, Natalie Haynes brings together two ancient Greek myths – of Oedipus and of Antigone – and re-tells them in a story of vivid realism. Central to the tale is the plague that struck the city of Thebes. In what is mostly a work of fiction, the author has researched how plague and modern epidemics change people; and her writing is unnervingly prophetic.

The gates to ancient Thebes had been closed. Palaces and city offices were locked shut. The people of Thebes had to stay at home, but countless numbers died. It was an angry mob that forced the gates to re-open after many months of misery. They blamed the ruler. He had not closed the gates soon enough, and then had kept them closed for too long. They blamed him for the information he had released and what he must have withheld. The book reads like Greek tragedy, and it's all too believable in today's world.

The story ends on a note of hope. The plague passes. Those who have survived must rebuild their lives in new ways. The future will be different, but it may be better. Patience will result in triumph. 


From Mary Withall, local resident, historian and author, who was instrumental in setting up the Scottish Slate Islands Heritage Trust:

Easdale Island, like any small community, has always been the setting for petty disagreement and small rivalries, sometimes leading to unfortunate consequences. The arrival on the scene of Covid 19, however, quickly put all that aside. We had a common enemy, and we were going to fight it, together.

At the heart of the battle against our common enemy was our noble crew of ferrymen. They kept us safe from thoughtless visitors, delivered our grocery orders and those countless parcels of goods bought online, and so far as I was concerned, put right many of the little defects which crop up in a house when you least expect them.

Oldies like myself were immediately targeted as having special needs.  At ninety years of age, I was expected to self-isolate. Funny that, as I had been living alone since Petre died 2016, and often spent days at a time without speaking to a living soul. I had, however, been completely independent as far as provisions and transport were concerned, but now I was going to have to rely on help from others. It was not long in coming. People I had met only briefly on the ferry to exchange a few words about the weather or the state of the tide, suddenly appeared at my door asking if I needed help. Calum the ferryman kept my car in running order, Jess brought my groceries from the Balvicar stores, Keren sent us all a very welcome treat of cake or pastry every Sunday lunchtime and Dave and Samantha provided a musical accompaniment to our clap for the NHS every Thursday evening.

When the weather allowed, some of us met in the garden for tea and a chat. The wild birds were a constant entertainment and I was liberally supplied with food for them. Although my gardener, Lisa, was unable to cross over to the island, Willie cut the grass and kept things in reasonable order while the weeds enjoyed an unexpected respite.

When my family were obliged to cancel arrangements for a gathering on the island in April, it was my neighbours who made my ninetieth birthday memorable, with cards and gifts and singing the birthday song – all of them spread around the green in front of the cottages. That was a moment I will never forget.

Lockdown for me has been a revelation. I have formed warmer relations with my neighbours, found the essential good in the core of so many, and learned to accept that I need the help of others as I reach towards the unknown. Perhaps we all needed this lesson. Let us hope it will be remembered when things get back to normal.


Postscript, Spring 2023.

By Helen Rees, volunteer for the Scottish Slate Islands Heritage Trust.

People of a ‘certain age’ like me learned in history lessons, or from our grandparents, or even from stage and film productions such as Oh What a Lovely War, and All Quiet on the Western Front about the carnage wreaked in Europe during WW1. 

No-one told us that the deadly influenza pandemic of c. 1918-1923 claimed even more lives. The memory of that devastation seems to have been lost amidst the hustle and bustle of the roaring twenties, and the turmoil of the general strike, the Wall Street crash, and the growing threat from Nazi Germany.

Just over a hundred years later, and despite renewed war in Europe, we still have a little breathing space to make sure that, this time, people’s experiences of fear, hope, and community solidarity are recorded. Small local history museums like ours began to collect Covid 19 memorabilia and memories, from the beginning of the lockdown in March 2020. 

In the winter and early spring of 2020, no-one knew what it could do to us all, how it might, or might not, kill us, or kill our friends, our children, or our wider family. We must pay tribute to the brilliant scientists who worked out how it was transmitted, what drugs might be effective in treating it, and, in record time, developed vaccines.

So, we commit these pages to the world wide web, in the hope that this community’s experience will live on after we ourselves are gone.