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!!!