Logan, a senior bigwig in Old Aberdeen, built this house on top of what used to be a humble patch of farmland leading toward the iconic Brig O’ Balgownie. Picture the clop of horses’s hooves and cart wheels rolling along a dirt path, with St Machar’s Cathedral peeking above the rooftops nearby. The house was, and still is, a classic example of an L-shaped Scottish townhouse, built on three stories with a pointy attic that looks like it’s just waiting for witches or wizards to take up residence.
As you walk around, see if you can spot the old “pend,” or alleyway at the entrance, leading to two doors. One goes to dark cellars, where food, firewood, and maybe a ghost or two were stored. The other opens onto a winding, spiral staircase. Go on, listen for your boots echoing on stone steps as you climb toward the great hall-the grand centerpiece back in Logan’s day. Above the door, you might notice a plaque written in good old Latin, declaring that William Logan and his wife had the house built in 1676. That’s 17th-century bragging rights!
Logan passed away in 1680, with his widow, Jean, staying in the house another twenty years. Both are buried nearby at St Machar’s Cathedral, possibly enjoying an eternal rest with a better view than most. Their home outlived them, shifting from stately residence to a lifeline for the needy as the centuries rolled on.
You see, the Bede House earned its name in the late 18th century when a very unique group moved in-the Bedesmen, or as they were known in Aberdeen, the “Blue Gowns.” These were elderly men, clad in distinctive blue cloaks, who received alms and support for the rest of their days. Originally, these Bedesmen lived in a hospital built beside St Machar’s Church in 1531, thanks to Bishop Gavin Dunbar. This wasn’t your modern hospital-think more along the lines of an almshouse, a place where prayer, charity, and perhaps a little quiet mischief were part of daily life.
The Bedesmen moved into the Logan house in the late 18th century when their old hospital fell into disrepair-it was a bit like upgrading from a crumbling hut to, well, what was once a posh townhouse. For a while, they lived, prayed, and worked right here, their days strictly regimented, with meals, prayers, and even the odd salmon from the River Don for the eldest two. Dinner at 11am, supper at 6pm-no snacking in between! And in case you were wondering, Bishop Dunbar’s rules were quite clear: “No women in the private rooms!” One wonders if there was ever a dramatic chase scene involving a Bedesman, a blue cloak, and a scandalized janitor.
As time passed, the Bedesmen faded into local lore-the last one passing away as late as 1988. Their legacy lives on in stories and a few surviving badges, which acted as a kind of “VIP pass,” allowing them to travel from community to community. Some say these badges read “Pass and Re-Pass,” which sounds suspiciously like what my internet does on a bad day.
But wait, what’s this-rumor has it there’s a secret passage winding away from the Bede House to St Machar’s Cathedral. Think of it: narrow stones, echoing footsteps, maybe an adventurous Bedesman sneaking out for a tipple or two at the grocer’s by the Town House, hiding bottles where only the bravest would look. A few old-timers even claimed they’d seen bottles left behind when the house was renovated in the 1960s, but no one’s ever proven the tunnel truly exists. Who knows? If you feel a gentle chill at your ankles, maybe that’s just a wandering Bedesman, still looking for the shortcut to his break room.
Today, the Bede House sits with much of its 17th-century spirit intact. It’s now private flats, but its stone stairways, weathered beams, and shadowy nooks whisper stories to anyone who’ll listen. So, as you stand here amid the echoes of centuries, take a moment to picture it all-the laughter, the prayers, the mysterious passages, and, above all, the sense of community that has held these stones together for hundreds of years. On that note, shall we march onward to our next destination, where stories await behind every stack and shelf?
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