When I was small, there would have been a different answer each time the question was asked.
If I had been to the doctor’s, I would want to be a doctor. If I had been to Glasgow in the bus, my answer would have been “bus driver”. If I had been to the cinema, it would have been “film star”. And so on.
By the time I got to secondary school however, my mind was made up - to be a musician was what I wanted. I knew it was useless suggesting this to my parents, for they had already decided that I should go into one of the recognised professions.
In 1943 I left school with a Scottish Higher Leaving Certificate, which included three Highers - English, Latin and French, and two Lowers - History and Arithmetic. My father had been persuaded by a schoolmaster friend of his that Dentistry was an excellent career and so, despite the fact that my own headmaster advised against it, the decision was made and I was enrolled as a Dental student.
Although I had dropped Science as a subject after Third Year at school, I succeeded in passing the Chemistry and Physics exams, and was coping all right with Anatomy and Physiology. It was a different story with the practical side of dentistry, and it was quite a relief when my call-up papers came through.
There followed two years in the RAF as a dental assistant/part-time musician. Apart from initial training, my whole time in the Service was spent at RAF Brize Norton in Oxfordshire, where I continued my music as pianist in the Station Concert Party and in a six-piece dance band.
The Brize Rhythm Group: Ray Raynor - drums, Pete Davis - string bass,
Vic Hardingham - guitar, Pete Munro - vocals, Spencer Dunmore - trumpet,
and myself - piano.
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NEIGHBOURS
Recently I came across the receipt for my father’s purchase of the house we moved to in 1936. £455 was what he paid with the additional £13.16/8 legal expenses. 18 years later he sold it for £1550.
The house was one of six in a small cul-de-sac just a few minutes walk from the main street of our town. From the front we looked out on to the playing fields of a secondary school and the Forth and Clyde Canal which in those days carried a fair amount of traffic.
In the bungalow next to us lived a man who today would be described as “physically challenged”. He held a senior post with the town council and was frequently driven to and from his office by employees of a local bus company. Strange but true - sometimes a bus would be sent for him, and the driver would have the unenviable job of reversing the whole length of the avenue.
During the war, when the air raid siren sounded at night, my father would help our neighbour to get dressed, and assist him and his wife to the shelter. One night we were awakened by shouts from next door. There had been no air raid warning, but, when my father investigated, he found our neighbour and his wife in their nightclothes standing in the front garden. She was shouting “There’s been a gas attack!”
Needless to say, there was no such thing, and we didn’t ever find out what had alarmed them.
His wife was a nervous person, and was quite concerned at the number of boats passing along the canal crewed by foreigners. They were of course allies of ours, but she couldn’t be convinced that they weren’t German spies.
Among the folks who made use of the air raid shelter, was a very nice family from the adjacent road - father, mother and son. The boy, who would be about 7 or 8 years old, had suffered from hydrocephalus, and because of his very big head was confined to a wheelchair.
I recall my mother commenting on the fact that in that shelter were two people, our neighbour and this boy, who needed special love and care, and how sad to see them seeking safety from the evils of war.
Recently I came across the receipt for my father’s purchase of the house we moved to in 1936. £455 was what he paid with the additional £13.16/8 legal expenses. 18 years later he sold it for £1550.
The house was one of six in a small cul-de-sac just a few minutes walk from the main street of our town. From the front we looked out on to the playing fields of a secondary school and the Forth and Clyde Canal which in those days carried a fair amount of traffic.
In the bungalow next to us lived a man who today would be described as “physically challenged”. He held a senior post with the town council and was frequently driven to and from his office by employees of a local bus company. Strange but true - sometimes a bus would be sent for him, and the driver would have the unenviable job of reversing the whole length of the avenue.
During the war, when the air raid siren sounded at night, my father would help our neighbour to get dressed, and assist him and his wife to the shelter. One night we were awakened by shouts from next door. There had been no air raid warning, but, when my father investigated, he found our neighbour and his wife in their nightclothes standing in the front garden. She was shouting “There’s been a gas attack!”
Needless to say, there was no such thing, and we didn’t ever find out what had alarmed them.
His wife was a nervous person, and was quite concerned at the number of boats passing along the canal crewed by foreigners. They were of course allies of ours, but she couldn’t be convinced that they weren’t German spies.
Among the folks who made use of the air raid shelter, was a very nice family from the adjacent road - father, mother and son. The boy, who would be about 7 or 8 years old, had suffered from hydrocephalus, and because of his very big head was confined to a wheelchair.
I recall my mother commenting on the fact that in that shelter were two people, our neighbour and this boy, who needed special love and care, and how sad to see them seeking safety from the evils of war.
-o0o-
I REMEMBER my mother taking down my trousers and spanking me because I
had said a Bad Word. And what was that word? It was “bitch“. Another
word which resulted in punishment was “liar”. And then there was that
word which the minister kept shouting from the pulpit. That word was
"Christ" - a very bad word in the playground. Since then, I don't think
I've ever used the name "Jesus Christ" preferring just Jesus of Nazareth
or Jesus the Messiah.
I REMEMBER that, when I was 12, I first experienced playing the piano for people singing. The occasion was a recital by my aunt’s pupils in a local hall, and at the end of the evening I had to play for God Save the King. No one had warned me that audiences are always slow in getting to their feet for the National Anthem, and usually drag a good bit behind the accompaniment. Quite nerve-wracking!
I REMEMBER two elderly sisters who lived in a small avenue a few hundred yards away. This was in the 1930s and so it was quite a surprise when they bought a car. It was said that it had been specially adapted, so that it required both of them to drive the vehicle. Was that likely?
I REMEMBER the only time I got the belt. Before starting secondary school proper, my class spent six months at a junior secondary where one particular teacher was very strict. We had been well warned about him of course, but I was caught out one day when the boy sitting immediately behind me tried to attract my attention. I turned round to face him, and we both got the belt. That boy went to America where he has for many years been a famous evangelist. I never ever forgave him!!!
I REMEMBER that, as a senior pupil at secondary school, I had to take turns to firewatch. Two of us would stay overnight sleeping in the Domestic Science Room, our task being to alert the authorities should enemy action result in a fire. One night my friend and I decided to demonstrate the principle of the siphon, using the two large metal washtubs and a length of hose. The experiment had to be abandoned when we lost control. The rest of the night was spent mopping up.
I REMEMBER that, when I was 12, I first experienced playing the piano for people singing. The occasion was a recital by my aunt’s pupils in a local hall, and at the end of the evening I had to play for God Save the King. No one had warned me that audiences are always slow in getting to their feet for the National Anthem, and usually drag a good bit behind the accompaniment. Quite nerve-wracking!
I REMEMBER two elderly sisters who lived in a small avenue a few hundred yards away. This was in the 1930s and so it was quite a surprise when they bought a car. It was said that it had been specially adapted, so that it required both of them to drive the vehicle. Was that likely?
I REMEMBER the only time I got the belt. Before starting secondary school proper, my class spent six months at a junior secondary where one particular teacher was very strict. We had been well warned about him of course, but I was caught out one day when the boy sitting immediately behind me tried to attract my attention. I turned round to face him, and we both got the belt. That boy went to America where he has for many years been a famous evangelist. I never ever forgave him!!!
I REMEMBER that, as a senior pupil at secondary school, I had to take turns to firewatch. Two of us would stay overnight sleeping in the Domestic Science Room, our task being to alert the authorities should enemy action result in a fire. One night my friend and I decided to demonstrate the principle of the siphon, using the two large metal washtubs and a length of hose. The experiment had to be abandoned when we lost control. The rest of the night was spent mopping up.
-o0o-
WHEN WE WERE SMALL, we were taught to be polite to adults. For little
boys, that meant saluting grown-ups who were known to us, especially
teachers.
Some people we were afraid of - the policeman, the headmaster, the janitor, some old spinsters, and in my case the black-faced coalman who would shout after me that Nancy Stirling was my girl friend.
When we were a bit older, there was someone else who scared us (she scared some adults too) - Miss Rumbles!
Many parents encouraged their children to join the Junior Section of the local library, and that’s where Miss Rumbles was all-powerful. Small, tight-lipped, with little eyes that pierced you through her glasses, she was probably a very nice lady outside the library, but we children felt that we were definitely not wanted there. The library was always spotlessly clean with highly polished floors, and I got the impression that our presence was making it untidy.
I can’t remember at what age we joined, but certainly by the time we were in our early teens Rita and I were avid readers.
What was I reading? I suppose mainly detective books in the beginning - Agatha Christie, John Dickson Carr, G.K. Chesterton, but later I discovered Phillips Oppenheim and Marie Corelli (both British despite their names), Maurice Walsh, P.G. Wodehouse and others.
For light reading, my greatest discovery was the work of Caryl Brahms and S.J. Simon. This clever partnership created a series of humorous books including A Bullet in the Ballet, No Bed for Bacon, Don’t Mr Disraeli, and Six Curtains for Stroganova. This last one I read again a few weeks ago, and still find it terrific.
Some people we were afraid of - the policeman, the headmaster, the janitor, some old spinsters, and in my case the black-faced coalman who would shout after me that Nancy Stirling was my girl friend.
When we were a bit older, there was someone else who scared us (she scared some adults too) - Miss Rumbles!
Many parents encouraged their children to join the Junior Section of the local library, and that’s where Miss Rumbles was all-powerful. Small, tight-lipped, with little eyes that pierced you through her glasses, she was probably a very nice lady outside the library, but we children felt that we were definitely not wanted there. The library was always spotlessly clean with highly polished floors, and I got the impression that our presence was making it untidy.
I can’t remember at what age we joined, but certainly by the time we were in our early teens Rita and I were avid readers.
What was I reading? I suppose mainly detective books in the beginning - Agatha Christie, John Dickson Carr, G.K. Chesterton, but later I discovered Phillips Oppenheim and Marie Corelli (both British despite their names), Maurice Walsh, P.G. Wodehouse and others.
For light reading, my greatest discovery was the work of Caryl Brahms and S.J. Simon. This clever partnership created a series of humorous books including A Bullet in the Ballet, No Bed for Bacon, Don’t Mr Disraeli, and Six Curtains for Stroganova. This last one I read again a few weeks ago, and still find it terrific.
I find it strange that I can’t recall many books that we read as Home
Readers at secondary school. Charles Dickens of course, and there was
Walter Scott’s Quentin Durward which I found boring.
Among the poetry we studied, my favourites always had something of the supernatural about them - The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Wife of Usher’s Well, Thomas the Rhymer, The Lady of Shalott and Keat’s La Belle Dame sans Merci.
Among the poetry we studied, my favourites always had something of the supernatural about them - The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, The Wife of Usher’s Well, Thomas the Rhymer, The Lady of Shalott and Keat’s La Belle Dame sans Merci.
-o0o-
I started off this week’s blog by saying that, when we were small, we were afraid of certain people.
There was something that really scared children however, and that was the “fever van.” If they were outside playing when it appeared, 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 diseases, and as both were very infectious any one who took them 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 would be there 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 Rita and one of our aunts took the disease. Rita 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 windows, for, if the curtains at a particular window were closed, it meant that the child there had died. How awful!
There was something that really scared children however, and that was the “fever van.” If they were outside playing when it appeared, 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 diseases, and as both were very infectious any one who took them 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 would be there 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 Rita and one of our aunts took the disease. Rita 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 windows, for, if the curtains at a particular window were closed, it meant that the child there had died. How awful!
-o0o-
There’s no doubt at all that my first life-changing day was when I left to join the RAF.
Some weeks earlier I had received notification of my National Service call-up, and shortly afterwards my father had discovered that a Glasgow boy who had relatives in our town had his call-up papers also, and that we would both be travelling on the same train to the same destination - RAF Padgate.
And so one night I said goodbye to my mother and sister, and my father accompanied me to Central Station in Glasgow where I met my travelling companion James Wood. The fact that there were two of us setting out on this adventure made the night journey quite pleasant, and I don’t think I had any fears or worries about what the future might hold.
At Padgate there seemed to be hundreds of young men being fitted out with uniforms, finding their billets and being shouted at by angry NCOs. We settled in to a rather chaotic fortnight of some square-bashing, inspections and lectures, and I was surprised to find that I quite enjoyed it all.
Our serious training began at RAF Bridgenorth, and at the end of six weeks I passed out as Aircraftsman Second Class Jaap.
My red letter day of course was that day on which I left home. Up till then (as anyone of my age brought up in our kind of society will understand) my parents had made all my decisions for me, but from then onwards, despite being a member of a regimented organisation, I felt I was free for the very first time.
Some weeks earlier I had received notification of my National Service call-up, and shortly afterwards my father had discovered that a Glasgow boy who had relatives in our town had his call-up papers also, and that we would both be travelling on the same train to the same destination - RAF Padgate.
And so one night I said goodbye to my mother and sister, and my father accompanied me to Central Station in Glasgow where I met my travelling companion James Wood. The fact that there were two of us setting out on this adventure made the night journey quite pleasant, and I don’t think I had any fears or worries about what the future might hold.
At Padgate there seemed to be hundreds of young men being fitted out with uniforms, finding their billets and being shouted at by angry NCOs. We settled in to a rather chaotic fortnight of some square-bashing, inspections and lectures, and I was surprised to find that I quite enjoyed it all.
Our serious training began at RAF Bridgenorth, and at the end of six weeks I passed out as Aircraftsman Second Class Jaap.
My red letter day of course was that day on which I left home. Up till then (as anyone of my age brought up in our kind of society will understand) my parents had made all my decisions for me, but from then onwards, despite being a member of a regimented organisation, I felt I was free for the very first time.
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