Lost in the Hills

Ronnie Browne and Roy Williamson aka 'The Corries'

Outwith our camping holiday to Stobo, the first real holiday which Anne and Iain Hoffmann and I ever had was a wonderful autumn week at Ettrick Valley with the Browne family. 

In the family tree the Brownes occupied the same spot as ourselves - 'Pumpa' and 'Wee Nana' were grandparents and great-grandparents. 

At the time, 1970, Ronnie Browne of ‘The Corries’ fame had a lovely old farmhouse set within the Border hills.

Anne, Iain and I were driven down there by our grand-aunt, Violet, along the old country B roads from Dalkeith to Ettrick Valley. 

Great-Aunt Violet was over seventy years old at the time and a real character. 

She had a ‘baby Austin’. 

We sailed down on a golden early autumn Saturday afternoon which was lovely and sunny. In the middle of the road I recall us seeing a dead grass snake.

The Browne’s farmhouse was quite magical and quite different from life at grey Oxgangs. 

There was a snooker table; Ronnie’s lovely paintings were on the wall; and there was a fascinating upstairs room, which you reached by entering what appeared to be a cupboard door in the kitchen - straight out of CS Lewis.

We loved that holiday playing happily with their children Lauren, Gavin and Maurice. 

The family looked after us brilliantly; we were well fed and we had such great fun. We played outside during the day and when darkness fell, played spooky games in the evening. 

I recall thinking how clever Ronnie was when he was creating a new rose garden. 

He cut out a large circle in the lawn by placing a stick in the ground in the centre; attached to this was string, pulled tight, with a knife on the other end; he thereafter stretched it out and marked out a perfect circle which he used as the perimeter of the border before lifting the turf.

Ettrick Valley

However the most abiding memory was me getting lost in the hills. 

I’d borrowed Gavin’s bike in the early morning and before anyone was awake slipped out of the farmhouse and ended up following a Forestry Commission lorry deep into the forest and hills. I lost my way and cycled around lost for six or seven hours. I of course ran out of energy and was getting quite desperate and panicky. 

God knows what the Browne household thought and Ronnie wouldn't have been looking forward to conveying the bad news to my mother. ‘Anne, I've got some bad news and good news. The bad news is we've lost one of your kids, but the good news is that it’s Peter!’ 

Anyway, after wandering around hopelessly in circles for hours, around tea-time, I heard the whine of the lorry’s engine that I’d tried to follow first thing. I chased after it and managed to stop it. After relaying my tale to the forestry worker he threw the bike on the back of the lorry and took me into the cabin. He gave me the remains of his piece - Gales lemon curd and margarine sandwiches - nothing ever tasted so good again. 

Fortunately I’d remembered the house phone number (Ettrick Valley 320); with the heat of the cabin and my exertions, I quickly fell asleep. Once out of 'the lost valley' the Forestry workman stopped at a telephone box and phoned Ronnie, who was just about to call out the Mountain Rescue and the police! 

The next thing I knew was awakening, to the welcome and happy sight of Pat and Ronnie and my siblings and cousins.

Easter and The Half Hearted

Between the years 1958 to 1972 on Easter Sunday I loved to hear the St John's Church bell ring out to the parish of Oxgangs to celebrate Easter Sunday.

In the Hoffmann household Easter was always a very special time at 6/2 Oxgangs Avenue.

Back in the late 1960s/early 70s Anne, Iain and I would have joined the Blades (6/6) on some Easter Sundays at the former Oxgangs Evangelical Church. Paul Forbes and I also attended Charlotte Chapel too, probably through the influence of Fifi and Liz Blades. And when we were very young children we were taken along by the old boy to Belford Church too.

And yet despite all this we weren't religious at all; certainly not in the true sense. It was something which we did; I guess we were just stumbling along on life's journey. In a half-hearted way - without any formal analysis; and like many other young people, we were finding our path in life.

However, I enjoyed going along to the churches.

I liked the occasion.

I liked seeing people dressed in their Sunday best.

I liked seeing families together.

I liked the sense of fellowship.

I liked seeing the minister interact and embrace members of the congregation.

I liked seeing older spinsters or widows feel part of a larger family.

I liked being part of a group or an extended family.

I enjoyed the service - the mix of biblical stories; sermons; and many of the values promulgated. I liked the sense of occasion and the mix of formality; history; tradition; and warmth too. I found myself, even as a young and occasionally rebellious teenager finding and enjoying these moments of quiet reflection during the service.

And yet I was never religious. I was never a believer. When the charismatic Rev Derek Prime invited the equally charismatic Arthur Blessit to preach at Charlotte Chapel hypnotising half the congregation, I was most concerned about Paul Forbes joining many others 'to come on down if you've felt the spirit!'

Despite never being well off as a family, Anne, Iain and I were very well looked after at Easter by our mother and our grandparents.

Each year, on Good Friday we received an attractive little mug with a cartoon figure on it; sitting on top was a simple milk chocolate egg. These were inexpensive items yet we set great store by them. Yes we quickly broke up the egg into pieces and enjoyed eating it; but the mug was special, because that was our cup for the rest of the year, from which we enjoyed our morning and evening 'cuppa' of tea, with milk and two sugars.

On the Saturday we were very lucky, because every year, our grandfather Gaga brought each of us a large brand name egg e.g. a Cadbury's Milk Tray chocolate egg with individual chocolates arrayed along the bottom. We knew how lucky we were with this, because outwith Norman Stewart (6/3) who always outclassed us all we did relatively well compared to our pals at The Stair.

On Easter Sunday itself we would be collected by our grandfather and driven down to Durham Road, Portobello; I loved the route and in particular seeing the women and gentlemen dressed up in their lovely coats and hats walking happily to church services at Greenbank; Morningside; the Grange; and Duddingston Village. Usually we would hear the lovely sound of the peal of the church bells ringing out and calling the followers to worship.

Easter Sunday, perhaps appropriately, was a simpler affair.

Our artist-grandmother had made three hard-boiled eggs for each of us which she had painted very attractively. We would go out into the warm sunshine in the back garden and roll the eggs until the shells eventually broke. I'm unsure whether we realised the significance of this - but I'm sure we will have been told.

In the decades after I left childhood at Oxgangs I've always found Easter a special time of the year.

I've occasionally written poems about it or had the oddest dream, once combining the two involving Arthurs Seat.

Easter Away

‘…Like a magnet, drawing me in

Wanting to whisper something to me

I’d like to listen. But can’t

Easter’s a strange time. And the world is whizzing

And to stop. And maybe find out

That you were only a dream.’

In later years when we married we enjoyed Easter with the extended family up at the farm in the Highlands.

And over the past eighteen years or so the fun and competition of the 'famous' Easter Egg Hunt with 'Atticus' and 'd'Artagnan' and cousins and friends. This year, 'd'Artagnan' is competing at the Birmingham International Open but Unc (Iain Hoffmann) and I have been in strict training to outfox Diane and 'Atticus' in today's egg-hunt - Unc' has his walking stick at the ready, so watch out Atticus for dastardly tactics!

And although we can't enjoy the peal of the St John's Church bell ring out today have a lovely and 'Happy Easter' wherever you are; and if you get a moment to pause for a moment of reflection, enjoy that too.

ps 'The Half Hearted' is a very early, but enjoyable novel by John Buchan - well worth a read.

Missing Member Of The Stair-The Elusive James Duffy!

Iain Hoffmann worked out who has been missing over the past six months-it was James Duffy-the youngest member of the five Duffy children. I didn't think that I had a photie of James, but amongst a small bundle of negatives that I found by accident yesterday, imagine my surprise that coincidentally the very last negative on the final strip includes James-serendipity or what!

Back Row: Iain Hoffmann and Boo-Boo Hanlon
Front Row: Peter Hoffmann; James Duffy; Ruth Blades; Alan Hanlon; Anne Hoffmann

Ten Photographs From The Mists Of Time At The Stair

As the blog begins to come to an end, ten photographs from the mists of time.

Iain and Peter Hoffmann

Iain Hoffmann and Ali Douglas-The two nicest boys at The Stairs and best friends for many years

Same as above-just couldn't work out the right way around!

Eilleen Hogg; Alison Blades; Ruth Blades at front-I was always pleased with this photie-I thought it artistic-Alison clearly humouring me! 

Iain Hoffmann with Candy 

Maureen Hogg with Simon-brilliant to find a photie of Maureen at this late stage of the blog!

Les Ramage

Colin and Alan Hanlon

Alison Blades; Heather Swanson; Eilleen Hogg; Ruth Blades and Anne Hoffmann at front-again, great to find a photie of Heather!

Peter Hoffmann and Ali Douglas

106287 106748 Divi-Day

I initiated a party trick a few years ago. I wrote down the numbers 287 on a piece of paper and kept the numbers hidden from everyone. I then said to the group I'm going to say three numbers and predict what three numbers Iain Hoffmann will come up with in response. The younger members of the group were particularly astonished when I got my prediction right.

The six numbers referred to the numbers which we had to quote whenever we visited The Store-this was our St Cuthbert's Cooperative allocated store number. The number was engrained into us from an early age, although some nameless members of the family had to have it written down for a few years!

It meant that we we were part owners-well, a teeny part-owner of the company; thus any time a member of the family visited  The Store and made a purchase it was important to always give the number.

Twice a year a dividend was paid out to each member-it was a percentage of what had been spent in the previous six months, but also was based on the profit the company had made. The second number in the title was The Blades' number-they must have signed up almost five hundred customers later than ourselves.

For many families in the city it was an important time in the year. After the money was paid out at Bread Street, Mrs Hoffmann would take Anne, Iain and me straight in to town to buy new school shoes and such like. We would go to Clarks-the x ray machine for checking that the shoes fitted properly was fascinating...!

In the decades before the 1960s it probably was the difference between many children going shoe-less-Divi-Day was that important. I may be wrong, but I think some families in the local Stairs only bothered collecting their dividend once a year using it to pay for either Christmas or for a summer holiday-we never had that luxury of allowing it to build up, instead queuing up on the first day that it could be collected!

Happy Birthdays!

Today, the 29th November and tomorrow, the 30th November-St Andrew's Day-Scotland's patron saint are the birthdays of two individuals who have featured regularly in The Stair-Iain Hoffmann (6/2) and Ali Douglas (8/3). Both these lads were probably the nicest boys of us all so it was rather appropriate that they were best friends for the whole of primary school.

Few of the kids in Oxgangs had large birthday parties during the 1960s-partly this was because of cost, partly because of the culture. In later decades it became a growth industry-I've lost count of the different types that my own children enjoyed from trampolines to cars to sleepovers to the cinema to the Aquadome etc. I only recall attending a single party-at Joyce Colbron's who lived at Oxgangs Farm Drive-it was a rather lovely party, beautifully organised by her mum from arriving with a small present-a box of Maltesers, followed by all the traditional games-Blind Man's Buff, Hang The Tail On The Donkey, Musical Chairs-of course I couldn't prevent my competitive side showing through in this game-all nicely rounded off with ice cream and jelly and a birthday cake.

For many years Anne Hoffmann Junior; Iain; and I were allowed to invite one friend in for each of our birthday teas-Ali Douglas appeared regularly. These were simple affairs, but never-the-less really good fun. Because we lived quite simply having a mix of egg 'n cress and ham and tomato sandwiches, followed by Cadbury's Chocolate Fingers; Jacobs Marshmallow Coconut Biscuits; Tunnocks' Chocolate Teacakes-all great luxuries-items which never featured in the household meant these occasions were all great treats. The piece de resistance however was the birthday cake-the chocolate cake so lovingly baked by our grandmother which was absolutely scrumptious-it was a recipe which had been kept in the family for generations.

If you're reading this boys, Happy Birthday to you both!

Scraps And The Great Divide

Over the fourteen or so years that I spent at The Stair I had a relationship at various times with all the children apart from perhaps the Duffy girls, Ann, Laura and Mary; where we would simply acknowledge one another.

I don't think I ever thought of a separation between the boys and the girls. Depending upon the season and the passing of the years things just seemed to naturally fall into place. Some activities were gender neutral whilst with others a natural separation took place.

I can recall having great fun going off on adventures to Morningside Park with Fiona Blades or to Portobello Pool with the ballet girls-Audrey Smith, the McKenna sisters and others; at other times Boo-Boo Hanlon; Iain Hoffmann; Les Ramage and I would head off to Edinburgh Castle; or I would go to church barbecues with Liz and Fiona Blades to Gullane Beach. The great chasey games that were held in the winter involved boys and girls including Carol Ramage, Jaqueline Burnett, Jonathon Taylor, Michael Hanlon and many others. In the summer time we would play British Bulldog in the front garden of 6/2 The Stair with Ruth and Alison Blades, Ali Douglas, Colin Hanlon and many others too. In the summer jumping the burn was a mixed activity, but one which mainly featured the boys, more of which in a future blog.

Where there was a great separation or divide in the 1960s was football which was dominated by the boys-it was very rare to see a girl playing, although I can recall Ruth Blades being atypically enthusiastic and indeed still have the bruises on my shins from such encounters!

On the girls' side there were two distinctive activities which come to mind that were female exclusive domains. In the summer they always had the really annoying habit of creating brilliant tents from blankets pegged up against the fence which separated the field from the washing green. The Hogg girls, Christina, Maureen and Eilleen and also all the Blades girls did this over the years.

These were girls only zones-boys were excluded. The tents always looked so cool-actually it was probably far too warm in there-and they always seemed to be getting up to interesting things inside that would irk our curiosity. Some boys were stupid enough to pull the tents down-not something I would contemplate doing having been on the losing side of several toy wrestling matches against Fiona Blades who I had total respect for-I wouldn't have wanted to get into a scrap with her!

Talking of scraps-the other activity, and one which I think mainly fell into the autumn and winter seasons of the year were scraps. Many of the girls including Eilleen Hogg and my sister Anne Hoffmann Junior collected scraps. I could never see the appeal of this hobby and I think it was boy free. Was it a gender thing or was it something that was indoctrinated into us so that we were all stereotypes?

Looking back I can see a greater rationale for the activity-it's probably similar to why many people go to the pub for a drink rather than sitting at home with one-it was a social activity-a vehicle where the girls got together in each others' homes to admire, comment and swap scraps together. The late 1960s must have marked the passing of collecting scraps as an activity for girls.

Happiness

Most often the paper run was done alone. 

On the rare occasions when one had company, the run was a doddle. Sometimes my sister Anne Hoffmann Junior would accompany me on Saturday mornings. During the run I would send her up to a house to deliver a newspaper-when she came back, I'd vanished behind a tree or a wall, only to leap out and scare her. I'm afraid I haven't changed-d'Artagnan (16) and I (56) still do the same to each other!

The other person I occasionally paired up with was Fiona Blades-sometimes it was to learn a new run for which one might have to provide holiday cover for or simply to learn a new run that one was to take future responsibility for.Raymond Carver's poem, Happiness, below, captures some of the feelings of doing a paper round in company.

So early it's still almost dark out.
I'm near the window with coffee,
and the usual early morning stuff
that passes for thought.

When I see the boy and his friend
walking up the road
to deliver the newspaper.

They wear caps and sweaters,
and one boy has a bag over his shoulder.
They are so happy
they aren't saying anything, these boys.

I think if they could, they would take
each other's arm.
It's early in the morning,
and they are doing this thing together.

They come on, slowly.
The sky is taking on light,
though the moon still hangs pale over the water.

Such beauty that for a minute
death and ambition, even love,
doesn't enter into this.

Happiness. It comes on
unexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,
any early morning talk about it.

Invasion Of the Creatures From Outer Space

Some neighbours thought that perhaps Dr Who wasn't fictional drama after all.

These neighbours who I speak of were accustomed to seeing people from Planet Earth riding horses as they had done for centuries. However, in the year of Our Lord, 1969, The Stair came under attack from very strange creatures from Outer-Space. Young girls resembling Eilleen Hogg, Anne Hoffmann and others were seen riding fat, distended, ghastly orange creatures. A further oddity was this was done bare-back, with the riders holding on to the creatures' horned ears. Fortunately these creatures did not adapt too well to Earth-at Oxgangs this proved to be a very inefficient form of transport-after several bounces the invaders seemed to run out of steam and needed to take breathers. These creatures went under the name of Space-Hoppers.

Eilleen Hogg circa 1969/1970 (Photograph , Peter Hoffmann)

A happy Anne Hoffmann just after dismounting from a Space-Hopper! circa 1969/1970 (Photograph, Peter Hoffmann)

After a while the creatures just seemed to fade away-to run out of gas, so to speak. No one knows what happened to them; and what about the Space-Hoppers?-before you breathe a sigh of relief, beware Earthlings and other followers of The Stair-the Space-Hoppers may not all be extinct-indeed, it is rumoured many still exist and are hiding away in peoples' attics or sheds.

Exoticism in Oxgangs ?

Did Oxgangs do exoticism in the 1960s?

During the school summer holidays when we were quite young, a nice outing was to the lovely Braidburn Valley for a small picnic. These family outings would tend to only include mums and children as the dads would be out at work.

We would set off eagerly, fresh as daisies and keen as mustard. 

My sister, Anne, would be in a push-chair - very handy for transporting a blanket and picnic. 

For those families such as us who lived at the four Stairs it was a long walk, because we were going from one end of Oxgangs Avenue to the other and from there onward through Braidburn Valley to the far end - a fair old distance. However, it was slightly downhill and as the Gaelic saying goes We had the sun on our face and the wind (just a zephyr) at our back.

When we turned into Braidburn Valley the first house on the left had a large back garden that ran adjacent to the cinder path into the valley.

Back Garden of First House Greenbank (Peter Hoffmann)

A great highlight for all the children was the doo'cot in the back garden. If we were lucky we might see the exotic, white doves. For young children it was quite magical to see the birds.

(Photograph by Rustythespian)

Outdoor Theatre Performance at Braid Burn Valley (Photograph by Mr W. R. Smith)

We always took our picnic deep into the valley toward the far end at the open air theatre which had been created just after the Second World War for outdoor performances at early Edinburgh Festivals. 

This was a sylvan little spot.

The water in the burn was shallow, still and clear. 

We would go barefoot in the burn and with our little nets fish for minnows and sticklebacks. The nets had been bought at the start of the school summer holidays, from T. F. Francis' drysalters shop at 29 Oxgangs Crescent shopping precinct.

(Outdoor Theatre Braid Burn Valley, Peter Hoffmann)

We would always climb to the top of the steep slope and roll down the grass steps (outdoor seating for the theatre). This was always great fun. All the while, mums would chat contentedly with other mothers or read the Woman's Own or a novel all the while knowing the children were safe and happy.

These picnics were simple little affairs. And then before we knew it, it would be time to head back home to The Stair. 

This was the hard part; not just because it signalled the end of the picnic and the afternoon but because with our little legs it was a very long walk home. 

We were at the far end of the valley; the cinder path was long and wynding and before we left the park we had to negotiate a slight uphill incline out of Braidburn Valley. However, at least there was the doo'cot to look at. And then there was the challenge of walking all the way along Oxgangs Avenue - a long weary walk in to the west. The sun was in our faces making us too hot and the breeze was against us. We were all a little weary from being on the go all afternoon and were all looking forward to getting home and our tea.

(Braid Burn Valley - The Long Walk Home to The Stair, Peter Hoffmann)

The smaller children might be lucky to get a collie-back ride or to find a spot on the push-chair. It was tough on the mums; being the eldest I never got a ride back to The Stair. There would be regular moans from some of the kids, I'm tired Mum. And then it would be over. Home was in sight. It was grand to get home and back to The Stair, pooped, but content; tired, but happy.

(Approaching the border line where two communities, Greenbank and Oxgangs (almost) meet, Peter Hoffmann)

And the answer to the question is that no, there wasn't exoticism in Oxgangs.

Instead it was to be found at Greenbank. It was where two worlds met. The doo'cot served as a metaphor and perhaps summed up the difference between two communities at the border-line; the gap between the working class, council owned, grey housing schemes of Oxgangs and the middle class, privately owned bungalows and villas of the leafy suburbs of Greenbank. 

Even the two names seem to jar against one another - the tougher sounding Oxgangs against the soothing image of Greenbank

Happy Families?

At Konditorei & Feinbackerei-Fiona Blades and Peter Hoffmann -'Nana Mouskouri' behind the camera this week!   

Fiona Blades, Anne (Hoffmann) Duncan, Anne (Hoffmann Junior) Kennedy-complicated! and Peter Hoffmann met up for coffee and cakes on Saturday morning at Bruntsfield-theme?, Happy Families (not!)-the ups and downs of life at The Stair and the legacy in the four decades since and the never ending circle of life weaving similar and different patterns-serendipity-an hour later, Paul Forbes, Keith Fisher, Tom Hoffmann and Peter Hoffmann met up at St John's West at Princes Street for afternoon tea.

An hour before midnight, late night texts going back and forward between Peter and Paul-topic?, aye you've guessed it, Happy Families, (not!).

Still, all and all,considered a very pleasant and unusual Saturday! And this morning, awoke to a beautiful sun-kissed Edinburgh morn'!

Bonus Post-Trying to get a reaction to The Blog from Anne!

The 'editorial team' meet to discuss future items at Costa, Stockbridge, Saturday  1 September 2012 !

6/4 The Hoggs

The Hoggs lived at 6/4-above us (The Hoffmanns) and below The Blades. They were a lovely family. The father, George, was a joiner - he was a very quiet man. His wife was the home-maker and seemed to be the more dominant figure.There were three daughters - Christina, Maureen and Eileen. Christine and Maureen were quite close in age, a few years older than me, whilst Eileen was a lot younger-there must have been at least a seven year gap. They took after George in that they had red hair, but none of the traits often associated with red hair!

One couldn't but help like the girls. Christina and Maureen shared a bedroom which was above ours-sometimes we had fun tapping out signals on the ceiling above. Christina was a very likeable, pleasant and sensible person-she seemed quite tall in appearance at that time; Maureen was closer in age to me. I always thought of her as being quite handsome, quite fashionable and good fun-she reminded me a lot of Fiona and Liz Blades at 6/6. I remember the cool way she used to wear her Firhill School tie low down on her blouse, in a large knot.

Maureen Hogg

Eileen was very thin and white-initially she may have appeared plain, but was actually quite beautiful-as she got older with her red hair set against white skin and being very slim, she looked like an artist.

Eilleen Hogg

Sindy

Probably because of the age gap, they were quite motherly toward Eileen and looked after her.The girls were fond of my sister Anne and had a lot of fun dressing up both Eileen and Anne in exotic outfits-it was as if instead of Barbie or Sindy dolls, even better, they had live dolls of their own  to dress and play with. My sister has very fond memories of these times.

Barbie

Along with the Blades we used to all work together at Bairds Newsagents at Morningside Drive. Whilst Douglas Blades used to cycle down earlier to open the shop, we all got the six o'clock  number 16 bus. Liz, Fiona and in later years, Gail Blades, the girls would come rushing down the stairs from level 2, to be joined by Christina and Maureen Hogg from level 1, to thereafter be met by me on the ground floor to cross Oxgangs Avenue to get the bus. It was good fun and made the early rises much easier. I enjoyed being the only boy in the company of four or five girls and felt part of a pretty cool gang!.There was good crack on the bus with the early morning school cleaners who were setting out to work too; they were a sparky, humorous bunch.

                                 

The Hoggs had cousins-two boys who were at Oxgangs Primary School who were renowned footballers and good runners. I recall them being at the Hoggs one Monday public holiday and hearing The Beatles track Yellow Submarine being played in the background. It's a very haunting track which immediately takes me back in time.

As mentioned, I think George Hogg was part of a cooperative of tradesmen who all built their own houses at Oxgangs Green; when they moved, it was a sad loss for The Stair, but they will have loved moving to their own house with upstairs and downstairs.