One part of the village where I live consists of former miners’ houses. Nowadays they’re all privately-owned, and most have extensions, conservatories or additional rooms built in the attic space.

My great-grandfather George was a miner. He died long before I was born, but I remember the area in which he lived. The pit houses of his day are long gone of course; many would consist of just a room and a kitchen, and with big families common then would certainly be overcrowded.

Later my grandfather, who worked in the pit, first as a train driver and then as a power station attendant, lived in one of those houses.

People were lucky if they had an inside toilet. Often outside toilets had to be shared with other families, and sometimes they were situated at a distance from the house. Not good if a visit during the night was needed!!!

Electricity didn’t come to general housing till much later. It wasn’t till 1936, when my father bought his own house, that I lived in a place where the flick of a switch lit up a room.

-o0o-

I REMEMBER the lamplighter with his long pole. I thought he had a great job.

I REMEMBER that every so often buskers would appear in our back-court and sing one or two songs. Housewives would open their windows, throw down coppers and the singer would move on to the next tenement. Sometimes one of them would play a tin whistle or do a dance, and I’m told that before the First World War German bands toured the country entertaining in back-courts.

I REMEMBER the horse-driven vans which visited our street, and the occasion when the horse which pulled the baker’s van fell down. Someone sat on its head as it lay on the road, while the baker undid all the belts and straps. Only when that was done was the animal able to get up, unharmed.

I REMEMBER message boys on bicycles. They were usually employed by food shops, and they had the job of delivering what housewives had ordered.

I REMEMBER that in the wintertime we went to school wrapped up in layers of clothing. Boys always wore caps and short trousers; in those days we had to wait till we were 15 or 16 before we got long trousers.

I REMEMBER seeing American comics. They were the size of broadsheet newspapers and had lots of pages. And the content was so different from our “Tiger Tim” and “The Rainbow.”

I REMEMBER that cigarette packets each contained a picture card. Many subjects were covered including sports personalities, film stars, dance band leaders, comedians, cars, locomotives, birds, animals, fish and many more.

I REMEMBER that the best room or parlour was used only on special occasions. That’s where the piano would be and the instrument was generally kept locked. (Did they keep it locked to prevent a burglar stealing the keys?)

I REMEMBER that, when drivers parked their cars on a hill (even on a slight hill), they would place a brick or a large stone at a front wheel to prevent the vehicle moving off.

I REMEMBER that, at primary school, if there was torrential rain in the morning, the school would close at lunchtime and we got a half-holiday. In such weather the boys would cram into the playground shelter at the morning interval, stand up on the long wooden bench and stamp their feet in time to their repeated cry of “We want a hauf!” (a half-day)

I REMEMBER that sometimes a pupil would have an epileptic fit in the classroom. The child was usually writhing on the floor, while the rest of us sat in awed silence. I don’t recall the teacher attending to the victim - the fit passed quite quickly and the lesson was resumed.

I REMEMBER that a good number of my class-mates came from much poorer homes than ours. The boys were all dressed alike, in trousers and jackets of a coarse brown material, these having been provided by the School Board.

I REMEMBER that “the basket class” met in the church hall across the road from the school. This was for children who were considered to be uneducable and included a whole range of cases from just a bit simple to mentally defective. They passed their time doing handwork and, although part of our school, there was no contact between them and us.

I REMEMBER that there were only two men on the staff, the Headmaster and Mr Maclennan who took the Qualifying Class (Primary 7). The latter had a soft Highland accent which I liked to hear when he read poetry to us. His strap, which he used frequently, was never out of his hands, and he would be continually playing with it, rolling and unrolling it.

I REMEMBER we learned the multiplication tables by repeating them endlessly until they became fixed in our minds. Spelling too was taught that way and the whole class in unison would chant “eye enn - in, eye enn - in, ay tee - at, ay tee - at,” and so on. There used to be a lot of suppressed giggles when we came to “up.”

-o0o-

I’m remembering that when I was a boy Christmas was not observed in schools - no Christmas Tree, no decorations, no party, in fact advent calendars and nativity plays were things we’d never heard of. It was a school holiday of course, but, apart from that, it was just like any other working day, with offices, shops and factories open as usual.

Every year the Sunday School had a party where we played the usual games and Santa Claus gave each of us a gift. There was always a big Christmas Tree with decorations and baubles, but no lights, the hall was gas-lit. I don’t think any people had trees in their homes in those days.

In the Scottish church, there were no special services on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, but on the Sunday nearest the big day, we sang Christmas hymns, and I expect the minister would talk about the nativity in his sermon. I believe that there was Midnight Mass in most Catholic churches on Christmas Eve.

It wasn’t till the late 1940s that Scotland began to make more of Christmas. Perhaps the change was due to our servicemen coming back to civvy street, having experienced how it was celebrated elsewhere.

We children of course became very excited as Christmas drew near. I remember that the living room in our tenement house looked wonderful with paper decorations round the walls and extending across the ceiling. Happy memories!

-o0o-

In the 1930s there was something that really scared children - the “fever van.”

If they were outside playing when it came in sight, the children would quickly vanish to their own homes and stay indoors till it had gone. Around 1932/3 scarlet fever and diphtheria were common, and as both were very infectious any one who caught the diseases had to go to hospital.

At that time I seemed to succumb to all the illnesses that were on the go, and sure enough scarlet fever claimed me. I was 7 years old when I was taken away in the dreaded “fever van”, and the awful thing was that I really thought I would never get home again. I believed I would live in that hospital for the rest of my life!

Visitors weren’t allowed inside, but on visiting days they gathered on the path outside the ward and waved to us children who were looking out the windows. I think I stayed there for 6 weeks, and it was very strange indeed being home again.

I don’t know if I was responsible for passing on the germ or not, but not long afterwards both my sister and one of our aunts took the disease. My sister who had her 5th birthday in hospital made very little progress, and eventually our worried parents insisted that she be discharged. As soon as she was home, her recovery began and she was soon well again.

My wife Jean tells me that in the Glasgow hospital where her sister had scarlet fever, parents used to dread approaching the ward, for, if the curtains at a window were closed, it meant that the child occupying the bed there had died. How awful!

-o0o-

It must be difficult for a young person to imagine what like it was like to live in a tenement in the early 1930s.

We were fortunate to live in property which was well looked after; there was a good-size hallway, the kitchen/living room, the best room/parlour, the bedroom, a small boxroom and the toilet.

Lighting was by gas which gave out a pretty poor light. The gas mantle fitting was above the fireplace which meant that the corners of the room were not well lit. On a winter’s night the darkness in the hallway was relieved only by the dim light from the living room/kitchen shining through the window above the door leading to the hall.

The coal fire in the living room provided for heating and cooking, and the rest of the house was generally unheated.

The kitchen range - the big iron fireplace consisted of a nest for the fire and compartments where the food was cooked. There were surfaces where pots would rest near the fire and a swivel plate on which the kettle sat to boil up water over the open fire.

The ashes from the fire were removed each morning and the fire re-set and lit. The whole range was cleaned daily and all the surfaces regularly black-leaded.

At the window there was the sink with one cold tap, and at bath time water boiled in kettles was poured into a metal bath placed in front of the fire.

That was our home, and I always remember it as being a happy home. I think that perhaps my mother, who tended be a worrier later on, was happiest there, for she used sing as she went about doing her housework.

-o0o-

Among my prized possessions was a small hand-operated cinematograph (we didn’t have electricity in the tenement.) I had two or three zoo films each lasting about two minutes - one was called Brown Bears and one was about snakes. I also had a cartoon in which a monkey used the heads of other monkeys as stepping stones; this film was a loop and so it went on for ever. My shows were not all that successful, for it would have needed a much stronger lamp to brighten the screen.

I had a small clockwork Hornby train set - an engine, tender, carriages with track and a signal, and a few years earlier I had been the proud owner of a big red wooden engine, probably about 2ft long.

Of course we had games - dominoes, quoits and bagatelle. I’m puzzled about the bagatelle, for all the holes into which the little balls might fall had the names of German towns. The only one I can recall was Magdeburg. Was this game inspired in some way by the First World War?   

-o0o-

Some time during the 1890s five brothers of my paternal grandfather went to the USA and found work in Andrew Carnegie’s steel works in Pittsburg. Two of them decided to stay and brought their families to settle in the States.

It was in the 19th century that a great many Scots emigrated to America. Poverty and unemployment were perhaps the main causes of this great movement of the population, but for some there was the attraction of going to a country where, so it was believed, a higher standard of living was attainable.

It’s difficult to imagine the feelings of the brave souls who left their homes and friends behind, heading for the unknown. Certainly, for those whose adventure began in the earlier part of that century, the journey was no “piece of cake.”

Liverpool was the main starting-off point and very often travellers had to wait for days, living in dirty, over-crowded lodging houses, being constantly harassed by pickpockets and thieves who would steal their luggage and make them pay for its return.

The journey by sailing ship took about 35 days. Most folk were accommodated in steerage, which was like a dormitory with bunks on both sides and tables down the middle. There was serious overcrowding, poor ventilation and, apart from seasickness, there were cases of cholera and typhus. What a nightmare it must have been!

Things had improved considerably by 1860 when steam ships had replaced sailing vessels. By that time healthy competition had grown between shipping companies who were keen to do what they could to attract customers, and 3rd class cabins had largely taken the place of steerage. And most important of all, the journey was now taking 7-10 days.

Of all those who emigrated, a surprising number were Mormon converts on their way to Utah. There had been a lot of Mormon activity particularly in England from 1835, and it was claimed that by 1850 they had made 30,000 converts. On two occasions they hired the SS Sailor Prince to convey their new members from Liverpool to New Orleans, and on the second trip in 1848 (which took 57 days) their number included members of a family who were related to one of my Jaap ancestors, and others whose connection with us in uncertain.

The following is an extract from Mormon archives.

“In 1856, Brigham Young, the Mormon president, devised a plan whereby emigrants from Britain could come to Utah if they were willing to pull handcarts and walk the 1,300 miles from Iowa to Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap, her husband Paul Gourlay and two small children were members of the Edward Martin Handcart Company. Unfortunately this group was late in beginning their trip in the fall of 1856, and met with disaster when winter storms trapped the emigrants along the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. Two hundred members of the company died of starvation and cold, before Brigham Young could send a rescue party of wagons from Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap's two young children died. There are conflicting stories on the fate of Ellison. One report says she died in Wyoming, and the other states that she made it to Utah. A journal kept by one of the members of the Martin Company mentions the death of Ellison’s seven month old child Margaret with the following entry:

15 August 1856, a child was buried this morning. The coffin had to be made, which delayed us until about eight o'clock.”

A very sad story! We know that Ellison Jaap came from Fife where our ancestors lived, and it’s probable she was connected in some way.

-o0o-

I suppose that, when I was at primary school, over half the children there belonged to families who today would be considered under-privileged. I was fortunate in that my father’s job was secure, and both he and my mother were careful with money.

Quite a few of my fellow-pupils came to school poorly dressed, often not very clean and probably hungry. Of course there was a great deal of unemployment at that time - it’s reckoned that between 1931 and 1933 more that a quarter of the nation’s workforce couldn’t find jobs. Unemployment benefit was paid for the first 26 weeks, and then the infamous Means Test took over. That involved an official visiting the claimant’s home and thoroughly examining the finances of the family; apparently any possessions, such as a wireless set, could be taken in to the calculation to assess what money should be paid to them.

My first teacher was an aunt of mine; in fact my first day at school was her first day as a teacher. Of course I had been well warned to call her Miss Hardie and not Aunt Cissie. I’ve always said that I was the best behaved pupil in all my time at that school, for I knew if I misbehaved my mother would soon hear of it! And having an aunt on the staff worked to my advantage, for I found that the teachers, always so stiff and strict, tended to soften a little with me.

I could be a bit of an know-all. I remember we had been learning how to differentiate between verbs, nouns, proper nouns, etc., and the teacher (not my aunt) was going round the class asking each one of us to give examples. When my turn came, she asked for any proper noun. I stood up and said “Yell.” Of course she looked surprised at my answer and shook her head. But little John knew better. “Please miss, Yell is one of the northern isles of the Shetlands.” What a horrible little show-off!!!

-o0o-

Discipline of course was strict at both primary and secondary schools. We sat in rows facing the teacher and talking was not allowed under any circumstances. If you wanted to say something to the teacher, you put your hand up. And behaviour was generally good. For those who offended in some way, there was punishment; every teacher possessed a belt and in primary school would use it often. Sadly it was sometimes inflicted for spelling or counting mistakes.

The belt was administered on the palm of the hand, and for serious offences “six of the best” would usually bring tears to the eyes. I hasten to add that I didn’t ever get the belt at primary school. (I told you I was the best-behaved boy.) I was surprised to learn that at some schools boys were belted on the bottom and shocked to read this account which referred to a school in Dumfries.

“The use of the tawse (belt) was a daily occurrence for trivial offences. The boys were brutally beaten on the bare backside by the headmaster while two teachers held the struggling victim across a school desk. Female teachers were excused witnessing the spectacle, so that they would not see a bare backside.”

-o0o-

The female teachers at my primary school were all spinsters and none of them ever got married. One was very old indeed - in fact she had taught my mother! I didn’t particularly like or dislike any of them, but I will testify that they were all good at their job. Both there and at my secondary school, the standard of teaching was high. The aim was to prepare pupils to pass exams and the system certainly achieved the desired result. Whether that should be the purpose of education or not, is of course another question!

-o0o-

 

 

When I was a boy my favourite radio programmes were dance bands and cinema organists. It was quite a thrill for me when I was given the opportunity of practising on the church organ and I thought how wonderful it would be to play in a cinema.

Some time later I decided to find out about cinema organ lessons. It surprises me now to think that I was brave enough to go in to the Odeon in Glasgow and ask to see the organist, Lyndon Laird. He came to the vestibule and explained that, because of wartime restrictions on the use of electricity, the times when the organ could be used were severely limited. However he took me in to a seat in the back stalls, gave me a cigarette and left me to enjoy a free show. I visited him once or twice, and each time we sat at the back of the cinema, discussing music in whispers.

There was just the one occasion when I had a “go” on a cinema organ. I had contacted Frank Olsen (about lessons) who played the Gaumont cinemas in Glasgow and he arranged to meet me in the New Savoy one Saturday morning.

The instrument, a 2 manual Christie, which probably dated from early in the century, had been in the Tivoli, Glasgow before coming to the New Savoy in 1935. I was surprised to find the keys yellow and worn with age, and disappointed to see that the console was fixed and didn’t come up from the depths!

What did I play? I can remember two of the pieces. The Giant Fugue by Bach (nicknamed Giant not because of its difficulty or its length, but just because the pedal part was said to resemble the wide strides of a giant) and a popular tune “Memories of You.”

In 1958 the New Savoy closed down and, as usually happened to unwanted organs, the instrument was broken up. I’ve no doubt parts went to augment organs in churches all over the country.

A few weeks later I got my calling up papers for National Service, and I didn’t pursue the idea any further.

However, more than 40 years later, after I retired from office work, I was given the opportunity to play the kind of music the cinema organists used to play. I found that all the local care homes for older folk had electronic organs, and I volunteered to visit them every week and entertain the residents. I played Sousa marches, Strauss waltzes, light classical pieces, songs from the shows and always finishing with a sing-along medley. I was in my element!!!

-o0o-

Here are a few memories from the days I entertained old folk.

I remember the first visit I made to one of the homes. I mounted the platform, sat down at the organ, smiled down to my audience, and one VERY old lady said to her neighbours "He was at school with me!"

At another place, there was a old chap who had played sax in a dance band. The old tunes that I played must have brought back memories to him, for occasionally he wiped tears from his eyes.

I was often asked for requests. One old lady wanted the same tune every week "I'll See You in my Dreams," and in the end I always concluded my programme with that number.

On the days when I was expected at the homes, the residents were always seated waiting for me. At one particular place, as soon as I walked into the room, one old woman would get up, walk out and not return till I had finished playing. Someone suggested she was a music-lover!!!

-o0o-

When I was a young boy, Easter wasn’t really important in Scottish life. Holy Week wasn’t observed and as for Good Friday - that was the day we got hot cross buns! Easter Monday was the Spring holiday in Glasgow, but in many other places the holiday was either the Monday before or the Monday after.

On Sunday of course we attended church. That was certainly an important occasion because, apart from the religious significance, Easter Sunday was the day when all the women and girls turned out in new hats, dresses, etc. And I’m sure there was quite a bit of rivalry between certain ladies!

It was just recently I learned that by the end of the 16th century it had become the fashion to wear new clothes at Easter. Much later, Poor Robin who was an 18th century almanac maker is recorded as saying -

At Easter let your clothes be new
Or else be sure you will it rue.

-o0o-

I've been thinking about medicines we got when we were children.

The cure for a sore throat was gargling with salty water, but I vaguely remember getting some kind of warm poultice put round my neck.

Dock leaves were used for nettle stings. And a small bottle of iodine was always produced for a cut, a small wound or a grazed knee.

I was reading in another blog that bleeding from small cuts could be arrested by the application of greaseproof paper with butter spread on it.

For some children the cure for constipation was blackberries and for others raw or cooked onions.

It seems that a mixture of sulphur and treacle was given once a week to many children, and that’s something I hadn’t heard of.

Also new to me was brown paper sprinkled with vinegar and pepper applied to the cheek to combat the toothache. In our family the cure was the application of oil of cloves to the gum, but I don’t think it was all that successful.

I’ve just remembered another bottle on the medicine shelf - Sloan’s Liniment, for aches and pains.

 I was always needing something to “build me up” and the doctor usually prescribed a bottle of brown stuff. There was of course the occasional dose of syrup of figs or castor oil, and for a while (perhaps in the winter time) we were given a daily spoonful of malt and cod liver oil. There was also emulsion - this was a white thick substance in a bottle and it too was administered in a spoon. I remember something that we called thermogen - it was like a big chunk of pink cotton wool, and it was placed on my chest under my pyjama jacket at bedtime. Perhaps this was used if I had a cold in my chest.

 -o0o-

DO YOU REMEMBER . . . .

when milk was delivered to your doorstep in glass bottles?

when a film, a short feature, a cartoon and a newsreel were all included in a night at the pictures?

when washing had to be put through a ringer to squeeze out the excess water?

when the bus conductress was in charge, belling the driver when to stop and when to start? Between bus stops she would do her rounds collecting the fares.

when the usual way of getting a TV was not to buy one, but to get it on rental? A weekly visit to the TV shop with the payments book was a must.

when the commercial station Radio Luxembourg was famous for its broadcasts of popular music?

when very often two houses had to share a phone line?

If you remember all these things, you must be getting on a bit.

IF YOU REMEMBER (as I do) . . . .

well-dressed gents wearing spats, gas-lit street lamps, horse-driven vans, listening to Harry Lauder on the wireless, Mrs Simpson, the launch of the Queen Mary, the Lambeth Walk, and young ladies sporting the earphone hairstyle,

Then you’re definitely ancient!!!

-o0o-

When I was a boy, my parents opened a savings account for me. I was given a bank book in my name, and felt quite grown-up going into the bank and making my small deposit.

I remember the words that appeared on the first page of the bank book - “Take care of the pennies and the pounds will take care of themselves.” And at the bottom of the page I read that I should never be ashamed of depositing small sums, and was assured that “the manager will rejoice to see you with your shilling.”

-o0o-

I must admit that I miss those far off days when I produced my bank book each time I made a transaction and had it marked up. Nowadays they try to persuade me to use the automatic teller thing (they have one inside and one outside) but I prefer to join the queue and have a real person deal with me!

And while I’m thinking of the good old days, I look back fondly when customers were served by shop assistants at the counter and all their purchases were brought to them. Mind you, I suppose I’ve got used to trailing around supermarket aisles. And we’re fortunate in Sainsbury’s where you can always find an assistant who will actually take you find the item you’re seeking. Not so in Tesco’s where often can’t find anyone to help.

-o0o-

When my sister Rita and I get together, the conversation very often turns to the time when we were children.

Last week end we were reminiscing and I was remembering that, when visiting a house where there was a piano, or when guests came to our home, we would usually be asked to perform. I told her that I was always sitting quietly, desperate to hear the question “Are you going to play something for us, John?” From what Rita said, I think she was sitting quietly, hoping that she wouldn’t be asked to perform!!!

When we were much older, we played piano duets together and did quite a bit of entertaining around the town. In fact, we popped up so often at social evenings that probably some folk would whisper to their neighbour “Oh no, not those two again!!!”

We had a big book of duets, consisting of light classical pieces from the Victorian era. I remember one which wasn’t in that collection - “Country Gardens” by Percy Grainger.

-o0o-

Watching the Queen deliver her Christmas Day message, I was reminded of a very emotive broadcast given by her father George VI. The occasion was Christmas 1939, just a few months after the start of World War II.

Because of his speech impediment, he spoke very slowly and deliberately, and this made his message sound all the more serious. “A new year is at hand,” he told us, “we cannot tell what it will bring. If it brings peace, how thankful we shall all be. If it brings us continual struggle we shall remain undaunted.” And he concluded with a quote which has now become famous. The words are from a poem by Minnie Louise Haskins.

And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied, “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”

I believe that the thought expressed in those simple words had a profound effect on all who heard the broadcast.

That led me to remember another royal broadcast, this one four years earlier, on 11th December 1936 when I was 11 years old. That was when the uncrowned King Edward announced on the radio that he was abdicating. I remember the unusually serious faces of my parents as they sat listening to the King’s message which told the nation of his inability to do his job “as I would have wished” without the support of “the woman I love.” The woman in question of course was Mrs. Simpson, a twice-divorced American who was considered to be quite unsuitable a person to be our Queen.

And, while I’m reminiscing, I must tell you of another broadcast (not a royal one) which caused some excitement at the time. It happened on the evening of 15th October 1940. As usual we were sitting in the living room listening to the news on the wireless. Suddenly there was some kind of crashing sound from the radio. The announcer Bruce Belfrage hesitated for a moment or two, and then carried on reading the news.

Later we learned that a 500 lb bomb had been dropped on broadcasting house, killing 7 BBC staff members. There was a great deal of praise for Bruce Belfrage who had managed to keep going, despite the fact that the ceiling had fallen around him.

I WAS THINKING LATELY ABOUT ADAM.

He was probably 5 or 6 years older than me. We had been involved earlier in running a church youth club, but it was following my demob from the RAF that we became friends.

By then he was the full-time warden of a local community centre and it was through his work that I became interested and eventually took up a similar post in Glasgow.

Adam lived with his mother and I joined them regularly for evenings of Canasta, a game over which they were really keen. Jean still recalls that one New Year’s Day we Canasta players tried to teach her how to play - and that was after she had been up all night celebrating!!!

I remember when he bought a very old Hillman car from someone in Glasgow. He had problems driving it home, for every time he braked the car slewed to the left. Obviously it needed urgent attention, but instead of going to a reputable garage (of which there were many locally) he gave it to someone he knew - a man who was renowned for being lazy! Perhaps the vehicle was beyond repair. It lay outside the fellow’s garage till it fell to pieces.

Adam had agreed to be Best Man at our wedding, but sadly it was not to be. He always had had heart trouble and, when his condition worsened, he was given the choice - either an operation with no guarantee of success, or spending the rest of his life as an invalid. He decided to go for it, but tragically he died on the operating table. I suppose a heart operation in those days was always a bit of a gamble.

I’ve lots of memories of Adam -
I remember that he couldn’t smoke a cigarette without an Imperial sweet in his mouth.
There was the time he organised an out-of-doors treasure hunt for the youth club, and no one turned up.
He was always involved in Charities Day events and one year he dressed up as “Patrick McCampsie, the hermit of the Campsie Hills” and arrived in style at Adamslie Park to open the proceedings.
He seemed to know everyone and everyone liked him. Time moves on however, and I don’t expect there are many folk left who remember Adam Stark.

-o0o-

As you can imagine, there was very little traffic in Kirkintilloch in the mid 1930s, and I can remember that it was quite safe to walk on the main road. There were buses of course but few motor cars. The only danger came from the horse-driven vans at teatime, when the animals, knowing that their day’s work was done, galloped down the main street heading for the stables.

The street where we lived led off from the Cowgate and being a cul-de-sac provided a safe place where we children could play. At the top end was a narrow lane leading to Bellfield district. This lane obviously wasn’t a right of way, because on a particular Sunday each year the people who owned the houses on either side closed the lane by locking the gates. However this wasn’t a problem, for they always encouraged folk to come through their gardens.

In the 30s and 40s there was an excellent bus service in our area. Alexanders Buses ran from Glasgow through Kirkintilloch to Falkirk, Grahams Buses ran from Glasgow through Kirkintilloch to Campsie Glen, and Lawsons ran from Glasgow to Kirkintilloch and Lenzie. The fare was one shilling (5p) return to Glasgow and was one penny cheaper if you boarded the bus at the Cross.

I’m remembering that double-decker buses couldn’t go through Lenzie because of the low railway bridge at Lenzie Station. To make matters more difficult for traffic, the road made a right-angled turn before going under the bridge and a very large mirror on the wall gave drivers the chance to see any oncoming traffic.

I must mention that the manager of Lawsons Buses was feared by all the drivers and conductresses, for if any of them slipped up in any way, a number of days suspension would be the result.

The conductresses, especially those working on double-deckers, had a difficult job. At peak times it was “standing room only” on those buses, and the conductresses had to run up and down the stairs, squeezing past passengers, trying to ensure that they got all the fares. And of course it wasn’t like today’s travellers who must give the exact fare!

-o0o-

The older I get the more reluctant I am to consider going on holiday.

I was interested to read an article in our daily paper which reported that holidays are a source of considerable stress for many folk.

Looking back, I think my problem may have begun when our children were young. I remember the first time we had a holiday at Burntisland. We travelled by train and halfway through the journey I became convinced that we were on the wrong train. And since that time, on any train journey I’m faced with the question - are we absolutely sure this is the right train?

We hadn’t been long married when we were to spend a week at Crail, Jean in digs, and me at a YMCA camp where I was a leader. On the morning of our departure we slept in, and had a tremendous rush to catch our train. And nowadays, I’ve always got to be ready an hour before departure time, whether it’s for going on holiday or keeping a hospital appointment.

I remember one memorable occasion when we were joining a coach tour in Glasgow. The taxi didn’t turn up and the situation was saved by a neighbour who drove us to the bus station, getting there with  minutes to spare.

Flying doesn’t really bother me; apart from the worry of getting to the airport, my problem is the airport itself - the crowds and the long delays. And railways stations can be a bit chaotic too. Jean and I did a Golden Rail holiday once and on the return journey we had to change at York.
I’ve never seen a busier station and there was no sign of the Golden Rail rep whom we had been promised. At last the Edinburgh train arrived, we got on and found passengers and luggage blocking the aisles. Eventually we located our reserved seats but they were already occupied by people whose tickets showed that those seats were indeed theirs. And the explanation? This was an earlier train, running very late. Yes, this was one occasion when we really had got on the wrong train!!!

One more story! Jean and I were on a coach trip to France. After an overnight stay in a Portsmouth hotel, we had breakfast there, and then joined the coach to take us the docks. It seemed to be some distance away, for we had been travelling quite a while when Jean realised that she had left her bag, containing our passports and foreign money, in the hotel, on the floor at the breakfast table! Absolute panic!!! But not for our leader who contacted the hotel on his mobile phone, and asked them to send a taxi with the bag to our boarding point.  There was no problem - Jean got her handbag but my hair turned grey within that hour!!!

-o0o-

One thing that can drive an organist round the bend is a cipher. This is where a fault causes a pipe to sound continuously without a key on the console having been pressed. It’s something that can happen with pipe organs, but not with electronic ones.

I remember an occasion when I was faced with this problem during a service. At the end of every hymn I had to switch off the power and the offending sound gradually faded away.

The particular pipe at fault was not a loud one, but I realised the choir would be in trouble with that sound going on during the anthem. I decided that we could sing the item unaccompanied and that, as soon as it was announced, I would play the opening chord, switch off the power and come out in front to conduct.

Unfortunately I couldn’t have pressed the off-switch properly, for, after we had sung a good few bars, that intruding sound was still droning on. And it continued through the whole anthem. Full marks to the choir for coming out on top! 

-o0o-

This photograph is one of the oldest we have of the Jaaps. Taken about 1888, it shows George and Jean Jaap with their six sons.
Standing (Left to Right) -  John Armour Jaap b.1868 (my grandfather), Walter Jaap b.1866, Richard Jaap b.1870, Robert Jaap b.1872
Centre - Andrew b.1875
Seated - George Jaap b.1834, James Jaap b.1878, Jean Armour b.1841.   

My great-grandfather George Jaap (1834-1908) was a coal miner, a widower with two sons. In 1865 he married Jean Armour (1841-1911). They had six sons, plus Jean’s own daughter Elizabeth who was brought up in the family as a Jaap.

Some time in the 1890s five of the boys went to the USA and found work in Andrew Carnegie’s steel works in Pittsburg. Two of them Robert and James decided to stay and brought their families to settle in the States. The others - Walter, my grandfather John (who hadn’t been on the American trip), Richard and Andrew remained in Scotland.

During the 19th century a great many Scots emigrated to the USA. Poverty and unemployment were perhaps the main causes of this great movement of the population, but for others there was the attraction of going to a country where, so it was believed, a higher standard of living was attainable.

It’s difficult to imagine the feelings of the brave souls who left their homes and friends behind, heading for the unknown. Certainly, for those whose adventure began in the earlier part of the 19th century, the journey was no “piece of cake.”

Liverpool was the main starting-off point and very often travellers had to wait for days, living in dirty, over-crowded lodging houses, being constantly harassed by pickpockets and thieves who would steal their luggage and make them pay for its return.

The journey by sailing ship took about 35 days. Most folk were accommodated in steerage, which was like a dormitory with bunks on both sides and tables down the middle. There was serious overcrowding, poor ventilation and, apart from seasickness, there were cases of cholera and typhus. What a nightmare it must have been!

Things had improved considerably by 1860 when steam ships had replaced sailing vessels. By that time healthy competition had grown between shipping companies who were keen to do what they could to attract customers, and 3rd class cabins had largely taken the place of steerage. And most important of all, the journey was now taking 7-10 days.

Of all those who emigrated, a surprising number were Mormon converts on their way to Utah. There had been a lot of Mormon activity particularly in England from 1835, and it was claimed that by 1850 they had made 30,000 converts. On two occasions they hired the SS Sailor Prince to convey their new members from Liverpool to New Orleans, and on the second trip in 1848 (which took 57 days) their number included members of a family who were related to one of our Jaaps.

If you are familiar with our Jaap family tree website, you will probably have seen the following paragraph which we obtained from Mormon archives.

In 1856, Brigham Young, the Mormon president, devised a plan whereby emigrants from Britain could come to Utah if they were willing to pull handcarts and walk the 1,300 miles from Iowa to Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap, her husband Paul Gourlay and two small children were members of the Edward Martin Handcart Company. Unfortunately this group was late in beginning their trip in the fall of 1856, and met with disaster when winter storms trapped the emigrants along the Sweetwater River in Wyoming. Two hundred members of the company died of starvation and cold, before Brigham Young could send a rescue party of wagons from Salt Lake City. Ellison Jaap's two young children died. There are conflicting stories on the fate of Ellison. One report says she died in Wyoming, and the other states that she made it to Utah. A journal kept by one of the members of the Martin Company mentions the death of her seven month old child Margaret with the following entry: "15 August 1856, a child was buried this morning. The coffin had to be made, which delayed us until about eight o'clock."

A very sad story! We know that Ellison Jaap came from Fife where our ancestors lived, but as far as we know she was not related to our family.

-o0o-

I REMEMBER -

Sundays - when all the shops were closed, football was prohibited in the parks, and the swings and roundabouts were padlocked to prevent their use. Any parks which were surrounded by railings had their gates locked. There was no golf on Sunday, no cinema. And radio programmes were suitably restrained - no dance music, no comedy shows.

So what did we do? In our best clothes and in our best behaviour, we went to church for the morning service which lasted about an hour and a quarter, and immediately afterwards to Sunday School. We lived about fifteen minutes walk from the church and it’s interesting to recall that we children walked home unescorted.

In the afternoon, like many other families, we went for a walk.  A common sight was a group of gospel people having a meeting at a street corner. I remember one preacher who stood all on his own waving his Bible, shouting his message, with no one paying any attention to him.

I REMEMBER -

what a variety of shops we had in our town. Most of them were long-established family businesses, and each had their own characteristics.

There was an ironmonger who seemed to stock absolutely everything; if you needed something like half-a-dozen nails, he would give you a handful and charge just a nominal sum. Long after the Second World War was over, a “Dig for Victory” poster still hung on the wall behind his counter.

There were a number of private grocers, but our custom had to go to the Co-op, since my father was an employee. One thing we used to see that would never be seen nowadays - a shop’s cat asleep in the window surrounded by produce!

Because it was illegal to sell alcoholic drinks in our town, there were no pubs, hotels, restaurants or licensed grocers.

I have a very clear picture in my mind of the main street on a late afternoon in winter. The shops were all poorly lit by gas, and except the area around the lampposts the pavements were in darkness.

I REMEMBER -

that there was a very good bus service to Glasgow and their time-keeping was excellent. Drivers and conductresses wore uniforms with caps. The only way of communicating with the driver, isolated in his cabin, was by means of a cord which stretched the length of the bus. The conductress pulled the cord and a bell rang in the driver’s cabin -one ring for stop, two rings for go.

At times the buses were very busy and conductresses on double-deckers were continually rushing up and down the stairs collecting fares. I used to marvel at how they managed to write in their little notebooks, despite the jolting of the bus. I wonder how legible their figures were!

-o0o-

When I was a church organist, I used to worry that I would forget to turn up for a wedding. Thankfully that never happened, but I remember hearing about a wedding where everyone was present - except the minister! One of the ushers was despatched to the manse where he was found, digging his garden!!!

-o0o-

The local clinic, which in my young day used to house the school doctor and dentist, has been lying empty since a big new health centre opened nearby.

I presume that over the years the old building provided a full range of services for all age groups, but for me that was the place in which I had my tonsils removed.

In those days it was thought the tonsils were responsible for a lot of childish illnesses, and many parents were persuaded that having the tonsils out would benefit their young ones.

I don’t remember a great deal about my operation, but I know that, after the job was done, I stayed in the clinic overnight and was allowed home the next day.

My sister tells me that she was to have it done as well. However, our parents decided against it, after a little girl died having her tonsils out. (And since then, Rita’s tonsils have given her no trouble at all.)

I was certainly more fortunate than some Glasgow children living in the early 1920s. Those attending the Victoria Infirmary had their tonsillectomies, were sent back to the waiting room to recover, and after a while went home with their mothers by tram. I’ve been told that these tramcars were known as the “Sawdust Cars,” because the floor had to be covered with sawdust to mop up the blood.

There was one good thing about having your tonsils out - you were allowed plenty of ice cream afterwards!

-o0o-

I suppose it would be around 1935 that I began to take an interest in the radio. We listened to the Scottish Children’s Hour, though some favourites like Toytown came from London.

Saturday evening provided good entertainment.
The McFlannels was an early situation comedy from Glasgow.
In Town Tonight was a topical magazine with all sorts of people being interviewed.
Music Hall was an hour’s entertainment by well-known variety artistes who each had  a ten minute spot.
 And finally there was drama - not a serial, but a different play every week, some serious, some light-hearted, some old and some new.

Who were the big variety stars of the 1930s? 

George Robey, Sandy Powell, Ronald Frankau, Suzette Tarri, Nellie Wallace, the Western Brothers, the Two Leslies, Clapham and Dwyer, the Crazy Gang of which Flanagan and Allan were members, Max Wall, Will Hay, Norman Long, Albert Whelan, Wee Georgie Wood, Lily Morris, Jack Buchanan, Cicely Courtneidge, Will Fyfe, Evelyn Laye, Elsie and Doris Waters, Stanley Holloway, Gracie Fields, Anona Winn, Renee Houston and Donald Stewart, Leslie “Hutch” Hutchinson, Wilson, Keppel and Betty, and my list, which is by no means complete, ends with Billy Bennett.  

-o0o-

The Depression made the 1930s a very difficult period for many folk in Scotland. During 1931-1933 more than a quarter of the workforce were unemployed.

One of the biggest projects of the time, the construction of the Cunard liner the Queen Mary, which had begun in 1930, came to a stop the following year and 3,000 men were laid off. Work was not resumed till 1934.

My own family were fortunate, for my father’s job as a grocer with the Co-operative was secure, and as a boy I had no idea of the problems that others were experiencing.

During that decade there were 3 major events which helped to brighten up an otherwise colourless time.

1935 saw the Silver Jubilee celebrations for King George V and Queen Mary. I don’t know if this was observed on any great scale in Scotland. I think we children received commemoratory mugs. I was interested to see that the village of Treeton in South Yorkshire made a real day of it.
This was their programme on 6th May -
10.30 am - procession to church
10.45 am - church service
12.00 to 12.30 pm - church bells
1.00 pm - carnival pageant
2.45 pm - crowning of May Queen and Maypole dancing
3.30 pm - tea for junior children in church schoolroom
4.15 pm - tea for senior children in church schoolroom
4.40 pm - sports in canteen field
7.00 pm - entertainment for old folk in church schoolroom (refreshments and smokes will be provided)
8.30 pm - presentation of prizes for the best dressed horse, vehicles, cycles, pedestrians and - perambulators!!!
10.00 pm - bonfire and fireworks

But that wasn’t all. “The Rother Vale Treeton Prize Band will entertain throughout the Day.”

Well, that really was grand day out!

The second important event was the Coronation of George VI and Queen Elizabeth on 12th May 1937. Again I don’t remember much about it, but I’m pretty sure we were taken to one of the local cinemas by our school. What film we saw, I don’t know.

Then the following year there was the Empire Exhibition in Glasgow during the summer months. This was truly a huge undertaking which attracted 13 million visitors.

We were taken there by our parents. I was aged 12 at that time, but I think that the whole thing was just too big for me to take in and to appreciate. (A 12 year old boy today is much more grown-up than a 12 year old then.) I vaguely remember huge modern-like buildings with names like South Africa, India, Canada, etc. There was a big tower and wonderful fountains. I don’t recall seeing Billy Butlin’s 16-acre amusement park and that surprises me.

Three things are still clear in my mind. A robot in evening dress which entertained the crowds by making jerky movements; he turned out to be a real man!

A clachan - a highland village showing the kind of little houses people lived in long ago.

And the midgets! The publicity pictures showed very tiny people, but once inside we saw that they weren’t all that small! Dressed as toy soldiers, they did a march routine to the music of “The Parade of the Tin Soldiers.” 

-o0o-

When Jean and I get together with our daughters, we like to reminisce. One memory leads to another and so it goes on, not without a few disagreements over what actually took place.

When the girls were small, they enjoyed playing with lego, but I had just as much fun out of lego as they had. After they had gone to bed, I would spread the pieces out on the table and construct something. The next morning they would appear, keen to see what I had made. I must add that last Christmas among my presents was a box of lego marked “ages 2-5.” Was someone suggesting - second childhood?

This past week we’ve been recalling the time when, with the help of the girls, I used to make things out of cardboard, wallpaper and sellotape. I remember making a house and one or two churches, and we also created our version of the Mad Hatter’s Tea Party.

Probably they had most fun with the little theatre we made. There were a number of cardboard entertainers, each with a long strip attached to their feet. By means of the strip, the figure was moved out on the stage where they would make suitable movements to a song sung by one of the girls.

 -o0o-

Many years ago some friends and I were taking a short cut over a field. The cows who were some distance away took an interest in us and began heading in our direction. Leaving my friends behind, I started to run but so did the cows! Managing to keep ahead of them, I reached the stone dyke wall, leapt over, and went down, down, down!
Of course I wasn’t expecting the field on the other side to be six feet lower than the one from which I was escaping!

That incident (and my injured ankle) was brought back to mind this past week, when Jean and I were staying at the home of our eldest daughter Margaret in Gloucestershire.

One afternoon Margaret took me walking on the hill behind her house. We sat for a short time on a seat admiring the view, and it was when we continued our walk that we saw a group of cows obviously interested in us. Knowing my feelings about cattle, Margaret pointed out an escape route over a stile. When we reached it however, I decided that it would be impossible for me to get over, so we began to re-trace our steps.

But, no! The cows were getting nearer, and the only solution was to get over that stile pronto!!! And I did! It’s surprising what you can do when you have to!

-o0o-

You may have read that a recent investigation by researchers at Hull University suggests that incidents people recall from their infancy may not have occurred. In many cases evidence was found which convinced those folk that their memories were false.

I’ve been wondering if things that I remember may not have taken place.

The following are very early memories. The  earliest is of my mother breast-feeding my sister, which means I was about two and a half then.

I remember my trousers being taken down and being spanked by my mother because I called Rita a bitch.

There was the occasion when my aunts were visiting us and I pulled away a chair just as one of them was about to sit down. She tumbled back on the floor, fortunately without hurting herself. Another spanking!

I remember showing my displeasure one night when an aunt turned up, but I was expecting my favourite one. I told her, “I don’t want you”. Horrible child!

My favourite aunt was Cissie who later was to become my very first school teacher. In her old age she was always bright and alert. On one occasion I mentioned to her that in primary school I had to repeat a year because I had lost a lot of time due to illness. She immediately said that was nonsense and reminded me that she had been teaching in that school all the time I was there.

Well, am I wrong? To support my case, I have two school photos, one is the Primary One class, the other taken a good few years later. In each photo there’s a different lot of children.

I rest my case!!!

My mother born in 1896 was the eldest in her family and next to her was George. On leaving school he became a clerk in a local iron foundry. He fought in the trenches in the First World War. As a result of being wounded, he lost the complete use of an arm. He became a Baptist minister and some time later Secretary of the Baptist Union in Scotland.

I remember that occasionally he would visit his parents on a Saturday afternoon, when we were there. He and Grandpa would sit having serious discussions about church affairs. One name kept cropping in their talk, as in “according to Spurgeon” and “Spurgeon says.”

Many years later I discovered that they were referring to Charles Haddon Spurgeon, a famous 19th century Baptist preacher and writer.

-o0o-

This is Jean’s paternal grandmother Jane Mackenzie who was born in 1870. 

The photo was taken around 1888.

-o0o-

When I was a boy, Christmas Day was just like any other day. We were on holiday from school certainly, but people in offices, factories and shops were working as usual. Hogmanay and the New Year were more important, and it would have been difficult to find a shop open on New Year’s Day.

I believe there was midnight mass in Roman Catholic churches on Christmas Eve, but the other churches didn’t have services, either then or on Christmas Day.

Each year we children went to the Sunday School party where we played games and received a gift from Santa Claus. I remember there was always a big Christmas tree, beautifully decorated, and I’m pretty sure that very few people in those days would have a tree in their homes.

Like most folk, our living room had coloured paper decorations round the walls and extending across the ceiling. This transformed our home into something really exciting, and from then on, Rita and I would be shouting our requests up the chimney. I must add that I was most annoyed when I discovered that Santa wouldn’t hear us, indeed that there was no such person! Shame!

Our parents usually took us to Glasgow to see Santa Claus in a big store. On one occasion we were passing through a number of corridors lined with toys and novelties, when we came to a huge teddy bear, taller than an adult. As we passed it, my father took hold of its paw, and said “How d’you do?” and it’s head fell off and rolled along the floor!!!

It wasn’t till the late 1940s that Scotland began to make more of Christmas. Perhaps the change was brought about by our servicemen and women coming back to civvy street, having experienced Christmas church services elsewhere. That was certainly the case in our own church when the Service of Nine Carols and Lessons was introduced. I think it would sometime later that services on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were begun.

-o0o-

When I was a young boy, I looked forward every week to the day my comic The Rainbow arrived, and it was a special treat if the Annual was among my Christmas presents. I remember the comic had a picture story which ran for years about a boy and his father who lived in a submarine and had adventures all over the world. The front page featured Tiger Tim and his friends.

 -o0o-

During my time as a club musician, I met some very talented amateurs. It was rare for singers to have their music with them, and I had to follow them as best I could. Since they usually didn’t know in which key their song was set, I would ask them to start on their own, and after a couple of bars I was able to join in with a suitable accompaniment.

I must mention that my knowledge of “pop” goes no further forward than 1960, and at times I was probably the only person in the club who didn’t know the number being sung. Fortunately the drummer knew his stuff, and was a big help to me.

Of course all the professional artistes had band scores, most of them very well written, and playing them was a challenge I really enjoyed.

For a while I played occasionally for cabaret at a golf club, and it was there I met one of their members - a very amusing amateur comedian. He reminded me of the American George Burns, and the audience loved his casual, relaxed style. I was so keen on his act, that I arranged for him to appear in the club where I was resident. And I was completely shocked! He was a flop! The poor man, away from his usual group of friends, had a real struggle to raise a laugh.

That was the last time I ever recommended an entertainer.

-o0o-

This is a photograph of me at the age of 11. We all had our photographs taken at school to commemorate the 1937 Coronation of King George VI and Queen Elizabeth.  

-o0o-

This photo taken around 1940 shows my grandfather John Armour Jaap, in the dress of the Ancient Order of Shepherds. I know he was a member of that benevolent society, though I don’t think he held any office. Perhaps he got dressed up like that, just for a bit of fun.

Born in 1868 in Kilmarnock, he was married to Charlotte Graham in 1891 in Kirkintilloch, where he had found work in the local coal mine. Later he became an engine driver, driving the “pug” which carried the coal wagons to nearby foundries and to the canal depot.

I remember, when I was a boy, my father telling me in all seriousness that Grandpa had once seen a fairy down the mine. I had no reason to doubt the story then, but I’m surprised that, when I was older, I didn’t ask my grandfather about it.

-o0o-

This is a photograph of where we lived in Lenzie. Described as a town house, it’s said that the building, along with many other properties in that district, was based on designs by the architect Greek Thomson (1817-1875). Shortly before we left there in 1983 there was an article in the Scottish Field by the broadcaster and writer Maurice Lindsay about Greek Thomson with a photograph of our terrace as an illustration.

Our neighbour on one side was Thelma Barlow the actress who played Mavis Riley in the TV soap “Coronation Street.” She was very pleasant and we always remember that, when Jean locked herself out, she came to her aid by supplying a ladder and a friend to climb in an upstairs window.

However, our relations with the folk on the other side didn’t have a good beginning. It was Jean who first met the husband, a retired Army major, at that time a Conservative Party agent, who complained that my piano-playing was upsetting his wife. (No funny remarks, please.) In fact they turned out to quite nice folk and our family continued with the music - piano, organ, guitars, recorders, viola, clarinet and bassoon!!!

The house had many advantages. With 7 apartments, our 3 girls each had their own room and we were just a few minutes away from the bus route and the railway station.

There were disadvantages however. With no garage, the car had to sit out on the road, and parking could be difficulties on Saturdays and summer evenings when the nearby bowling green was open. The biggest problem was the fact there we didn’t have central heating.

And so we moved from a house which was more than 100 years old to our present home built in 1977.
  

-o0o-

I THINK I WOULD be 8 and Rita 5 when we began piano lessons. Probably we weren’t particularly keen on the idea (I wanted a banjo) but all decisions affecting us children were made by our parents, and that was that!

Our teacher was Aunt Frances, the youngest of our mother’s siblings, and she had 12 letters after her name! Wow!!

The fact that she was a relation made no difference in her attitude towards us. We were her pupils and we were treated like all the others.

I remember the routine well. Our mother would take us to see Grandma Hardie who lived next door to Frances, and, when my lesson was due, I would go to Frances’ house, go into the hall, where I would change into carpet slippers, and then quietly slip into the big front room to wait till the previous pupil had finished.

I’m sure that in the early days we went along well prepared, for Mother used to sit with us while we did our compulsory half-hour practice every day. Later on however I sometimes went for my lesson, wishing that I had been a bit more industrious during the week.

-o0o-

My parents 1922/3. They married in 1924.

You’ll notice that my father has a cigarette in his hand. That wouldn’t go down well with his future in-laws!

I don’t remember him smoking cigarettes, but he certainly enjoyed his pipe. Sometime after he retired, he gave up the habit and replaced it with - polo
mints!!

My friend Adam smoked cigarettes, but he couldn’t enjoy them unless he sucked an Imperial sweet at the same time.

Of course very few folk thought that the habit was bad for their health. Indeed, some adverts claimed that particular brands were good for you. I seem to remember that Craven “A” used to recommend that you should smoke their cigarettes “for your throat’s sake.”

-o0o-

During my time at primary school two important national events took place, and on both occasions we were given a day’s holiday - the Silver Jubilee of the reign of George V and Queen Mary in 1935, and the Coronation of George VI and Queen Elizabeth in 1937. I think it was on Coronation Day our school was taken to a local cinema for a special film show. I’m sure it was then that we were all given a commemorative mug decorated with the heads of the new Monarchs.

Of course the year between those two events had seen the abdication of the uncrowned Edward VIII, and everyone had been shocked when they learned that he had wanted to marry a divorced American woman Wallis Simpson. There was a lot of bad feeling against her, because in those days divorce was something that most folk disapproved of. I remember that children in the street used to run around shouting -

Who’s that walking down the street?
Mrs Simpson with big feet!

-o0o-

 

 Here I am with my parents and Rita

-o0o-

I REMEMBER Sunday September 3rd 1939, the day war was declared. We were getting ready to leave for church when the Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain was making the announcement on the wireless, and so it was not until later that we heard the news. I think my parents tried to conceal how worried they were, but for me and my friends, it was all very exciting and I began to take a real interest in news bulletins.

I REMEMBER that some years earlier a number boys of my own age were discussing patriotism and someone posed the question, “Would you die for your country?” I’ve got to report that I was the only one who said, “No.”

I REMEMBER that during the first months of the war plans were being made nationally to evacuate children to Canada if things got very bad. Some of my friends, with their parents’ permission of course, put forward their names. The scheme never materialised in our area, though there were cases of local children who went to Canada to stay with relatives.

I REMEMBER that the minister in our church (he had been awarded the Military Cross in the First World War) gave very upbeat sermons about fighting the Germans. My mother used to refer to his sermons as “war commentaries.” This was a reference to a series of inspiring wireless talks with the title “War Commentary.”

I REMEMBER that there were organisations available for boys of secondary school age - the Army Cadets and the Air Training Corps. My friend Andrew and I had joined the Cadets, had been issued with uniforms and were quite enjoying the drill, when our minister, who was Captain of the ATC, claimed that his organisation was much more suited to “boys of our class” and got us transferred!!!

I REMEMBER that we all had to carry our gas masks to school and occasionally we had to have a practice putting them on and off. Air raid precautions had included brick shelters built in the playground, and we regularly practised marching out of school to the shelters.

I REMEMBER that a good number of parents were Air Raid Wardens and a large number of volunteers were needed during the hours of darkness to “fire watch,” and to alert the authorities. Sometimes men who were unfit for the armed services were conscripted into the fire service and police force, and there were other who joined those services part-time.

I REMEMBER that when the war ended there were huge street parties all over the country. But not where we lived! I don’t recall any great celebration really - I think people hung flags from their windows and I believe there was a bonfire in a local park. Although many local people had lost their lives during the conflict, our town had got off lightly when compared to the big cities, and perhaps we preferred to celebrate quietly in the company of our own friends and family. 

-o0o-

I REMEMBER that, at primary school, if there was torrential rain in the morning, the school would close at lunchtime and we got a half-holiday. In such weather the boys would cram into the playground shelter at the morning interval, stand up on the long wooden bench and stamp their feet in time to their repeated cry of “We want a hauf!” (a half-day)

I REMEMBER that sometimes a pupil would have an epileptic fit in the classroom. The child was usually writhing on the floor, while the rest of us sat in awed silence. I don’t recall the teacher attending to the victim - the fit passed quite quickly and the lesson was resumed.

I REMEMBER that a good number of my class-mates came from much poorer homes than ours. The boys were all dressed alike, in trousers and jackets of a coarse brown material, these having been provided by the School Board.

I REMEMBER that in primary school all the pupils went home at lunch time. I was lucky living near the school, but some pupils’ homes were a good 15 minutes walk away.

I REMEMBER that “the basket class” met in the church hall across the road from the school. This was for children who were considered to be uneducable and included a whole range of cases from just a bit simple to mentally defective. They passed their time doing handwork and, although part of our school, there was no contact between them and us.

I REMEMBER that there were only two men on the staff, the Headmaster and Mr Maclennan who took the Qualifying Class (Primary 7). The latter had a soft Highland accent which I liked to hear when he read poetry to us. His strap, which he used frequently, was never out of his hands, and he would be continually playing with it, rolling and unrolling it.

-o0o-

Earlier this year I came across a magazine called “Scottish Memories.” I found it well written and most informative, and the subject matter going back to the old days was right up my street. Needless to say I now look forward to it every month.

In the June issue there was a short piece about what was Top of the Pops in May 1963. I was surprised to find that I didn’t know 6 of the artistes or groups named, and out of the top 20 titles I hadn’t heard of 11 of them!!!

Of course for me the golden age of popular music was the 1930s. During those years songs didn’t just appear and then disappear a few months later. No, the most of them were popular for years, songs like -The Isle of Capri, Red Sails in the Sunset, When I Grow too Old to Dream, Falling in Love Again, It’s a Sin to Tell a Lie and Night and Day.                              

-o0o-