Hunters Tryst School Sports Day

Hunters Tryst did School Sports Day proud. It was always superbly organised, very well attended and presented with a sense of theatre. It was serious and yet it was fun.  There was drama, disappointment, glory and joy. Hunters Tryst School Sports Day on the former School Sports-Field Photograph courtesy Stevie Berry With the smell of newly cut grass and the marking out of the white running lanes for the 100 yards sprint and an oval track laid out on the grass field the sense of anticipation that we'd come to that part of the Oxgangs season was palpable. Several rows of school benches lined the whole of one side of the 100 yards straight facilitating the sense of occasion, anticipation and theatre. If parents didn't arrive early with their little ones and little picnics they were condemned to stand at the back and spill out behind on to the grass slope. Hunters Tryst School Sports Day was a rather glorious and fun Friday morning followed by a half day which for some years coincided with the last day of the summer term. Rather classy pencils were handed out to the winners of the races.  The pencils were purple in colour with the name Hunters Tryst Primary School emblazoned in yellow along the side.  Back in the 1960s these were prized items. Out with Crackerjack I’d never come across such a thing so they were rare and valued. Were they perhaps introduced in 1963? I think at the end of my first year (Primary 1) in 1962 the prizes were perhaps a blue badge for second and another colour for first place? I'm unsure how well the children from The Stair (Oxgangs Avenue) got on, on Sports Day?  The only slight unhappiness for me was that my brother Iain wasn't the most athletic of children. Although he struggled at Sports Day he had the right attitude really enjoying the occasion and took it in the right spirit competing with a smile on his face.  On one occasion he won either or indeed both the sack race and/or the obstacle race and I was overjoyed for him. Having tried to will him to victory for many years I got more pleasure from that win than any of my victories. My sister Anne came to school when I was in P5; she performed quite well usually winning a race.    Ann Breslin; Terry Workman; David Lines and Stephen Drysdale amongst a clutch of fine athletes There were some excellent athletes at Hunters Tryst – in my class, David Lines and Stephen Drysdale were scarily good and very fast athletes. I also recall Ann Breslin was a nice wee runner who went on to run for Edinburgh Southern Harriers. When I first began to go down to Meadowbank Sports Centre at the end of the summer of 1971 her dad sometimes gave me a lift back to the far end of Oxgangs Avenue where they stayed. Depending on the year the relay varied between being run back and forward along the 100 yards straight or around the oval track.  For many years our relay team of David Lines, Geoff Hunter, Graham McKiernan and I dominated however for some long forgotten reason – a dispute over running order perhaps? - but on one occasion I had a fall out and instead recruited a team of my own from the year below who were around six months younger than our class including Terry Workman, Kenny Ruickbie and another lad and took some satisfaction from overtaking my usual team on the last leg.

Happy Days-Visiting The Drysalters at The Broadway and The Crescent

I only visited the dry-salters shops occasionally.

There was one such shop at the south-east corner of the the Broadway (number 9) and another one at the north-east corner at the Crescent shops (number 29) which was owned and run by Mr T. K. Francis.

These visits were mainly seasonal.

I only visited the shop at the Broadway around fireworks time - this could be for Victoria Day in May and Guy Fawkes night on the 5th November.

They stocked fireworks and I sometimes bought a few.

They also sold an unusual safety match which if we were up to some misadventure we'd look in and buy a box. The only other time I was in the shop was if I was helping out Helen Blades with her shopping because it was here she bought her paraffin and also briquettes.

It was a highlight visiting this shop because I liked the smell of the paraffin, although it must have been hell for the staff employed there. 

The matches came in a fascinating, little fancy box; they were of a much higher quality than Bluebell or Swan Vestas - a small, blue box with fewer matches, but the coating of the match was thicker as indeed was the match-stick - higher quality - it's funny how things like that come to mind - I haven’t thought of this product for forty years. 

Most of our business was given instead to the dry-salters at Oxgangs Crescent. 

David Lines, Oxgangs Avenue wrote earlier in a comment An ironmongers which occupied the large corner of the 'L'. I remember this used to stock everything-paint, nails, wallpaper, candles-it had the most wonderful smell which greeted you when you opened the door (paraffin I think). If you couldn't get what you wanted you could always walk along to the ironmongers at The Store. Clearly another person who liked the smell of paraffin! 

Douglas Blades commented on the shop The large hardware shop in the corner at Oxgangs Crescent was run by the father of Donald Frances who was in my year at Boroughmuir...another of these forgotten and lost stories of the original shopkeepers at the Broadway and the Crescent which would make for a fascinating social history.

It was at the Crescent dry-salter's shop, that depending on the season, summer or autumn that we bought our fishing nets; our balsa-wood planes; and our cinnamon sticks. 

The planes were cool coming in slim paper bags - there was a wide variety of them; the fishing nets were for our annual summer trips to Braidburn Valley where we fished for minnows and sticklebacks; come the cooler months of autumn Iain Hoffmann, Boo-Boo Hanlon and others smoked our cinnamon sticks. Happy days!

Charles; Ken; and Magwitch!

A bit like my extended response to David Lines, I realised once again, that this was going to be far too long a response for a comment-so here goes, a blog instead!

Hi Liz-nice to hear from you once again-it is a rather lovely, if poignant thought about Helen-she would have been perfectly suited to Oz, not only because of the sun, but because she was such a hard worker and such an engaging and outgoing personality-she would have positively thrived there!

It was at Helen's funeral that many of us last met up. I note from my diary of Tuesday, 24 October, 1978... We all went to Helen Blades' funeral service at Charlotte Chapel and after the burial we went to Liz's house for a tea. Very sad circumstances, but it was lovely to see Douglas and all the girls again, reminding me of many happy old times...

Helen Blades cleaning The Stair-An appropriate photo given she rarely stopped working-but still smiling!
(Photograph by Douglas Blades)

I met Douglas for an hour earlier this evening (he looks very well you will be glad to hear!) and although we were flitting around a vast number of topics (goodness knows what the waitress thought, especially my Robert Bond, (2/8) story!), his and my  memories of Charles and Ken coincide. It is very sad for all involved because both the fathers and children were losers, not to mention the wives too.

Anne Hoffmann is a fount of stories and was very friendly and terribly fond of Helen; you're right, I think she and Helen were a mutual support group. Whilst, she had an ambivalent relationship with Charles, partly because he wasn't pleased when Anne had to intervene and support Helen on one difficult occasion, she did like Charles. They used to sit beside each other on the number 4 bus in the morning travelling to work.

I had forgotten about Lady Blades' car, but I now have a vague memory of it-what an extraordinary juxtaposition! I wonder if I offered to look after it for a couple of bob to prevent the wheels being removed! There would certainly have been no trouble parking it as cars were as scarce as hens' teeth!

When Ken was drinking it really was a nightmare-quite frightening for a child-there are endless tales! Unfortunately, he seemed to take against me and I often took the brunt of it-I've still got the mental scars if not the physical ones!

Ironically, whilst his behaviour was understandable when he was on the bottle, what is less understandable is how he behaved when he was sober. For much of the time, his was a brooding, grumpy, disputatious and menacing presence. He took no pleasure or interest in having two sons, but did have a warmer relationship with my sister Anne. That said, I loved to sit and listen to him and my mother, Anne Hoffmann, converse over our Sunday breakfast of tea and rolls-their conversation was of a really high quality punctuated with many laughs!

He did battle his alcoholism hard by attending AA at The Rooms at Cockburn Street for years and years. I have occasionally tried to understand Ken through vividly re-imagining  his upbringing (a phenomenological approach?)  at 14 Dean Park Street, Stockbridge in the late 1920s and 1930s and with the type of parents that he had.

That gives me certain clues, in that he was certainly a child of his times; but whilst it partly explains who he was, ultimately, if you are an intelligent and reflective individual, it is probably not enough of an excuse. As a husband and father he failed to get to grips to try to overcome particular personality traits and weaknesses. And, whilst Dr Spock manuals on rearing children weren't exactly dotted around, I don't think he ever gave his demeanour and behaviour much thought-for example I don't recall receiving any real praise from him-it was the stick rather than the carrot!

A Rare Outing to Edinburgh Zoo
Iain; Ken; Anne; and Peter Hoffmann (circa 1964)

I'm sorry that your memories are not better. I/we at least had the consolation of getting on better with Ken in later years after my parents had divorced on my 15th birthday in 1971! I would often bump into him on early autumn afternoons at Boroughmuir rugby matches at Meggetland and later on when I stayed at Colinton Village in the late 1980s/1990s he used to sneak round to join the whole extended family for Chinese Carry Outs/Trivial Pursuits evenings which were very happy occasions-by then he was able to enjoy and appreciate us all-even my grandmother! By then I think he probably had many regrets on how life might have been.

Although I bore the brunt of his wrath I have only ever felt warmly toward him after he left home. I intend to do some future blogs on the topic of foreign letters-(it was you and Fifi! who introduced me to a New York pen pal!)-I am lucky to have a dozen or so letters from Ken from  throughout the world from 1971 to around 1980-I have not looked at them for years but when I did a decade ago I was completely, but pleasantly surprised to see he did actually care for me, and in his way tried looking after me from afar, Magwitch style, with some well meaning advice.

And, because he was so keen on sport I think it came as a pleasant surprise to him that I had done something-there is a 1976 telegram addressed to the Olympic Village, Montreal-he heard of my selection on the BBC World Service whilst on board a ship off the coast of South Africa; also, I was incredibly surprised to see he had watched an 1978 Edmonton Commonwealth Games semi-final whilst in a pub in Oz!

A last and very late memory of him from just before he died over twenty years ago-we were down at Meggetland-Iain and me, plus his son Roddy (from his second marriage)-he was treating the three of us to a Boroughmuir Rugby jersey-we had to hang around for quarter of an hour before they handed them out to us-despite his poor health the four of us passed the time by throwing and passing a rugby ball to one another-it was great fun with much laughter and leg pulling-extraordinarily it was something we had never done as children-I think he knew in that moment what he had missed-for me it's an abiding memory and drew a veil over much that had gone before.

Apart from his Boroughmuir tie, the jersey is all I inherited from him-it's worn so well that my son, Will wears it today. Whilst it may be a perverse observation I sometimes reflect on the fantastic legacy which he left me, for when I had two sons of my own, I knew exactly how I wanted to bring them up and how I wanted to spend as much time with them as possible before they would come to fly the nest!

ps Check out a rather lovely track, My Old Man by Steve Goodman!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GW7xR7WkyTU&feature=share&list=PLDB7718CBFA7443FF

Comment From Liz Blades: Peter, thank you for your extended comments. I was amazed to read that you all came back to my house after mummy's funeral. At first I didn't even recall that I did that, and I'm sorry that I do not remember you being there. The mind does strange things when you are under stress. 
I'm afraid mummy hated that photo of her cleaning the stair. She was embarrassed to be photographed in those particular circumstances. She would be appalled to know that it is now on the world wide web for all and sundry to view! But you can see that grin on her face all the same :)
Love the photo of you and Douglas and glad to hear it was a happy reunion.
It occurred to me that Charles and Ken grew up almost within a stone's throw of one another. I wonder if they ever encountered one another before Oxgangs? Charles grew up in India Street just around the corner from Stockbridge. Liz Blades

Response: Sorry about that Liz-it would be nice to access a better photo of Helen. I had forgotten too-I have very detailed diaries going back over forty years ago, although I have not really referred to them for the blog. Douglas too had forgotten we were at the funeral. After seeing your interesting comments last night I took the 1978 diary off the bookshelf-there is more in there. I was supposed to be in Dundee that morning for something important, but turned the car back at the Maybury Roundabout! Something I discovered fairly recently from Anne Hoffmann was that my Nana Hoffmann was the housekeeper for Lord Aitchison who was a contemporary to Lord Blades-I very much like the paintings by his artist son the late Craigie Aitchison-I enjoyed an exhibition at a recent Edinburgh Festival. I was really quite excited about meeting Douglas yesterday-although I mixed with a wide variety of the kids I always really liked and looked up to Douglas-not just because he was the oldest child at The Stair, but because he was such an interesting character-whether with his collection of records; his call-sign; his interest in transport; and the way he worked very hard-not to say he was a saint of course, because when I needed it he very occasionally told me off too! NEEEP! Peter Hoffmann

The Blog Works Its Magic Rescuing Some Things From The Mists Of Time, But Not Everything Including Koolapop!

I began typing this as a comment response to David Lines' comments which were a very pleasant surprise indeed, but quickly realised it was going to be too large a response for the comments column; not to mention the need to get my elder son Will to install a widget to prevent the distortions which appear whenever a respondent includes an apostrophe (hint, hint Will!). Anyway, great to hear from you David after all these decades.

There was an element of serendipity in us being photographed with Rhona Clelland and Marion Scott at the Boroughmuir School dance as it was the photographer who set the group up-although I certainly held a candle for Marion and I suspect David was fond of Rhona-two very bonny girls so we clearly had excellent taste! I met Marion well over twenty years ago and I think she had three children at quite a young age.

David Lines; Rhona Clelland; Marion Scott; and Peter Hoffmann
Boroughmuir Dance circa 1969/1970

Similar to Rhona many local girls from Oxgangs attended the very well run Patricia Browne Dance and Ballet School at Churchill, my sister Anne included. Several of the girls went on to enjoy professional careers including Carol Ramage (4/3) in Portugal and also Audrey Smith (6/6 Oxgangs Street) who was my girlfriend at Hunters Tryst School and who I rather liked but lost contact with when she went to Firhill School and I went to Boroughmuir School. We met up years afterwards for a drink and went dancing, but by then she was engaged to an older chap. I always looked out for her on the New Year Specials where she was a member of the dance troupe. She had a younger brother Alan-the Smiths were a rather lovely family.

Audrey Smith, Hunters Tryst Primary School circa 1965/1966

I intend doing some future blogs on the very shops which David mentions-like him they are the most significant in my memory. Similar to David, but different because of staying at the end of Oxgangs Avenue, we mostly attended the other three main shopping locations-it was only during school lunches I went to the Crescent-as David say Cruickshanks' was excellent, particularly given its size-they sold Koolapop cola which seems to have vanished into the mists of time for ever; we also used to buy collectors' cards with a piece of chewing gum, including the American Civil War series.

I agree about the smell of paraffin-it was very addictive-it was from the dry-salter's/ironmongers that depending on the season of the year we used to get either Airfix balsa wood planes; fishing nets; or cinnamon sticks (for smoking!); Campbells' Newsagents was a regular, particularly on a Sunday-I can still picture old Mr Campbell who was a gruff, but pleasant character.

I think David arrived at Hunters Tryst around P3 or P4. I always had a tremendous respect for his athletics ability-he was the one individual who I always feared at the school sports in the sprint race, knowing I would always have to be at my very best if I hoped to win-most of the races between us were probably photo-finishes! Another lad in the class who I think was quite under-rated was Stephen Drysdale-I don't think he quite realised how good he really was, which was perhaps fortuitous! I met him thirty years ago playing tennis-he was a very nice guy.

Stephen Drysdale, Hunters Tryst School, 1967

As David says, changed days-I exchanged some communications this week with a lady in America just now who is a singer-she told me she used to stay at Capelaw Court (village in the sky)-small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it!

Hillend and 'Jean Claude-Killy'

How many primary schools offered skiing as part of their curriculum back in the 1960s? Eton, Loretto, Watsons? Well, actually, I was thinking of Hunters Tryst Primary School.

Hillend Ski Slope in the shadow of the Pentland Hills

In an earlier comment, Ruth Blades (Kaye) remembered  Hillend Ski Slope. For the likes of David Lines, Bryan Rennie, Norman Stewart and me we were very lucky-in our last year at school (P7) we had the chance of attending skiing lessons. We were incredibly excited. This would be the first occasion that a class from the school had been offered this opportunity. Lothian Regional Council had developed an artificial ski slope-the longest in Europe-on the north facing side of the Pentland Hills.

So, each Friday morning for a term or so, we were transported by bus the mile or two up the road to Hillend from Hunters Tryst School. It was a lovely break from school. Unfortunately, I never took to it at all. Wearing heavy and uncomfortable boots it was a bit of a long trudge up the road from the cabin at the Biggar Road entrance to the artificial slope; the weather was poor and we often ended up soaked; and I could never quite master the skis-they felt awkward and cumbersome. Also, I didn't particularly like the Austrian instructor called Hans. On top of that I never had the 'bottle' for going down the slope from the top-even back then when it was at a more intermediate level. Apart from that, it was fine-boy, what a wimp!

A nice surprise was that someone from The Stair who did take to skiing was Iain Hoffmann. Up until then Iain hadn't previously excelled at sport, but did have 'the bottle' to go down from the top-a bit like his diving where, like 'the old boy' (Ken Hoffmann) he was always happy to throw himself from great heights into water-oops, shouldn't have mentioned Ken Hoffmann-I feel another Ken Hoffmann Being Different story coming on!

Iain ('Jean-Claude Killy') Hoffmann circa 1969
(Photograph, Glasgow Herald)

Iain went on to represent the school in a skiing competition-here's a lovely photograph of him (above) that appeared in the Glasgow Herald newspaper at the time-I don't know how the family became aware of the photograph-perhaps someone got the newspaper at my Aunt Heather's office at work? Anyway, it's captured a lovely moment in time.

Most unfortunately, Iain was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis last week-it would seem he's had the condition for years, but it's taken until now to identify it as the slow progressing type-he's being very positive about it-hope in a very small way the photie gives you a lift Unc.

And who would have thought it-a school located in Oxgangs  offering skiing lessons!

6/8 The Duffys Or Tell Laura I Love Her!

Of the eight families who were a core part of The Stair the Duffys were the last family to move in. I knew them less well than other families for three main reasons. 

First because they were the last family to move in and other relationships had formed and developed. Second, because they didn't mix with the other families to quite the same extent-they were well brought up and led quite orderly lives-I don't recall seeing them out and about much. And third, because of religion. 

The Duffys were the only Catholic family in The Stair and it meant that for substantial parts of the week, our paths didn't cross. Between Monday and Friday each of the four Duffy children-Ann; Laura; Mary; and John attended different schools to the rest of the children. And on a Sunday they were regular worshippers at St Mark's Catholic Church and we were away visiting our grandparents. So for six of the seven days, they led separate lives to most of us in The Stair. 

St Mark's Church, Oxgangs, Edinburgh

Because they took up residence in The Stair later than the rest of us, the older Duffy children, had already formed friendships elsewhere. I guess it was a similar situation to what I alluded to in the earlier blog on Norman Stewart-that when he and I began to attend different secondary schools-The Royal High School and Boroughmuir Senior Secondary School, the ties with our peers who attended Firrhill Seconday School loosened.

Mrs Annie Duffy was the head of the household-like Laura she had red hair. She seemed to be the dominant figure in the household, with Mr Duffy being relatively quiet. I liked Mrs Duffy. After I had moved away I occasionally used to bump into her in later years during the seventies when I was visiting Mrs Anne Hoffmann (Duncan). I enjoyed having a wee blether with her. I think she took a small interest in my athletics, which I was pursuing at that time.

I don't really have many memories of two of the daughters, Ann and Mary. However, I have more substantial memories of Laura and John, who was the youngest. 

Laura was a very attractive red head. Each week-day morning we used to queue at the same bus stop-the one outside the doctor and dentist surgeries. It was a very busy bus stop-it was the last stop at which one could get on the number 5, 16, 4 and 27 buses.

I used to go across to the bus stop each morning at around eight o'clock. It was busy with women and men going off to work as well as children going away to schools in the city. Laura was always there in the queue, just in front of me. I always rather fancied her, but she always remained supremely aloof from me, studiously avoiding any eye contact whatsoever. I was the opposite feasting my eyes on her great beauty.

I always felt she looked down on me rather disdainfully-well who could blame her! She was out of my class. On one occasion I actually plucked up the courage to ask her out, but fainted before she replied-only joking(!)-she of course turned me down, but it at least forced her to speak to me!

And there was me trying to look my very best each morning after battling with my unruly, curly hair having plastered it down earlier with liberal splashings of water combined with the wonderful flattening qualities of the hood of an old anorak  Oh, if Laura only knew of the great lengths I had gone too on her behalf, perhaps she might have considered my request more favourably. I think not. Unfair as it may be to say, whilst I thought her lovely, I also considered her snooty!

No Laura, but there were other small compensations!
(Boroughmuir School Dance David Lines; Rhona Clelland; Marion Scott; Peter Hoffmann)

The Hanlons lived opposite the Duffys and were the family in The Stair closest to them-particularly the parents who socialised with each other in later years. I think both Colin and Boo-Boo were quite good pals with John, because of their common interest in football and Boo-Boo also supported Celtic. I think the Blades were  friendly with the Duffys too.

Boo-Boo Hanlon modelling his new Celtic strip
(Photograph, Peter Hoffmann, 1971)

John Duffy, Colinton  Park, 1971 (Photograph, Peter Hoffmann)

The member of the family who I knew best was John, because of a shared interest in football. He was an enthusiast and a nice little player. He was a pleasant lad-modest, gentle and unassuming. He played football competitively, including for his school. On a few occasions we held large two a side football competitions in Oxgangs, with teams drawn out of a hat. We used to play for  a Subuteo Cup! On one occasion I won the 'World Two a Side Competition' with John.

Was it rain or was it sweat?-Probably it was both as there was very heavy rain that week.
John Duffy and Peter Hoffmann with the Subuteo Cup at dusk after a long and tough two a side tournament
 (Monday, 2 August, 1971)

Looking back, it's illuminating that my relationship with John was at its strongest during the school holidays, when there were more opportunities to spend time together.

6/3 The Stewarts and The Watcher by the Threshold

The Stewarts lived on the first floor opposite the Hoggs. Mrs Stewart was a pleasant woman with a certain amount of class. She was quite tall and wore her hair high up and back. She was elegant and seemed sensibly fashionable. On the few occasions that I was in 6/3 she was very pleasant to me. Mr Stewart was a policeman. He was quite dour and kept himself to himself-apart from Ken Hoffmann, I don’t recall him ever speaking to others.He didn't seem to inter-relate-this may have been partly due to his job-he was a policeman; people who worked in this line have sometimes had a tendency to only socialise amongst their colleagues at work.

Norman Stewart circa 1966  (A nice photie of 'Norrie Stewart' taken from a school class photograph)

They only had one child, Norman, who was ages with me. Sometimes he was known as Norrie, more often as Noggin. We played together when we were very young. We were in the same class for the whole of primary school-P1 through to P7. At times we were often very friendly, sometimes even best friends, but for other long periods of time were quite distant-even having occasional fights.There was a certain rivalry between us at school-he was a clever boy with access to knowledge through books which gave him a certain advantage over many others in the class. He was always in the top three or four in the class, but never quite made it to top of the class. In some ways he appeared more mature, more thoughtful, and more reflective than others-I recall him making an observation about David Lines and me-David and I were both similar in ability at sprinting-Norman's observation was that David was a more trained athlete (he was quite muscular) and that I was the more natural-I was quite impressed that someone could think in such conceptual terms!

David Lines from the same school photograph above.

Peter Hoffmann from same school photograph.

Norman was slightly different from many of the other boys around because he was less athletic or sporty. He didn't really play much football at all which was the bread and butter game that most of the other boys played on 300 of the 365 days of the year. He was however, more of a spectator-the watcher by the threshold.

Anstruther (Undiscovered Scotland)

His parents took their role quite seriously and were supported by occasional, but regular visits from grandparents. One set of grandparents had a car and came from Anstruther, a lovely little fishing village in Fife, where he would holiday regularly. Being an only child Norman was more dependent on himself for much of his entertainment. He would regularly have friends in to see him, but it sometimes felt more like one had received the royal summons.

Brian Rennie from same school photograph above.

Although slightly reserved he wasn't unsociable and mixed with the rest of us. He was more sensible than me and got into less bother; I do remember him hanging out with some of the 'bad lads' which included Brian Rennie, 6/5 Oxgangs Street and me; on one occasion we got into trouble for breaking some greenhouse windows of houses at Pentland View whose gardens backed onto The Gully-I took the full force of that one at school and possibly with a visitation from the local policeman!

Being the smallest family in the stair, and with a father in steady employment, the Stewarts may have been the most well off family in the stair. Norman tended to own more and better toys than the rest of us, so this perhaps created an element of envy with his peers. At Easter he always had more chocolate eggs than the rest of the kids. 

On one occasion I remember him having a box of unusual and expensive eggs, which had high quality chocolate on the inside and a crisp sugar shell on the outside-clearly designed to look like an ordinary hen's egg. Similarly when many of us didn't have a sledge or had to build one of our own he had a magnificent top of the range sledge called The Flying Norwegian or was it The Flying Dutchman?-it was quite beautiful in design-lovely lines, polished smooth varnished pine, deep runners and a good size-on top of that it flew! However, the coup de grace was that one could steer it!

This was extraordinary-beyond one's imagination!

If it were a car I guess it would have been an Aston Martin.

He also had a nice collection of Rupert annuals and Noddy books which no one else had.

Rupert Annual 1963

The Stewarts had a long red velvet covered trunk in their shed, within which Norman stored lots of toys and books. The key was lost and the shed remained in cold storage for years-I used to fantasise about all these Rupert annuals and Noddy books stored in there-as the years went by they became even greater in my imagination!

The back alley where the sheds were located. (Photographs by Peter Hoffmann, 2012)

A memory of Anne Hoffmann (Duncan) is of being out cutting the grass; she'd left the shed key in the lock; when she returned the mower the key to her shed had mysteriously disappeared-a dozen kids searched high and low with no success, so she announced a ten shillings reward-Norman calmly walked through the alleyway and out to the path and put his hand behind the indentation at the top of the wall and produced the key and claimed the reward-enough said!

Being an only child, Norman perhaps had more time for contemplation and he was therefore more thoughtful than the other boys. At times he occupied quite a powerful position.I recall him promoting and then putting on some scatters from his bedroom window with some of his toys. Because he had such good and interesting items quite a crowd might gather. He would sit at his first floor bedroom window whilst he would wait for a group of kids to gather down below-it was a bit like a medieval king with his subjects down below or of throwing a crust to the starving. He would take his time to appear and was in no rush until he had judged there were enough kids in attendance down below.

Norman Stewart's bedroom window on first floor from which  he would conduct his 'scatters'.
(Photograph by Peter Hoffmann circa 1970)

In a very measured way he would display the toy which he was going to dispose of and then deign to cast it to the crowd to scrum over it. He liked to take his time and have some dialogue with the crowd-occasionally he would take time-outs to get himself something to eat and come back later, whilst those down below would have to await the return of the 'Royal Stewart'! Perhaps he was living up to his nickname, Noggin, who of course was a king!

Noggin, King of the Nogs.

I used to feel slightly uncomfortable with this and tended to be more of an observer at the back. I think I also instinctively wanted to maintain my independence from him so that I was more of an equal. I also felt he over-promised and under-delivered-to me the largesse distributed was always slightly disappointing.

Norman was a bright boy who after his primary school education at Hunters Tryst, went on to a fee paying school, The Royal High School, one of Edinburgh's oldest and best schools. I think this demonstrated his parents' access to resources, because it was quite unique in Oxgangs to send a child to a fee paying school;  it certainly showed Mr and Mrs Stewart's commitment to being good parents and taking their role seriously to do the best for him.

In another way I could empathise with Norman in that by not attending the local secondary school, Firhill, it created a distance between us and the other local boys. It wasn't immediately noticeable, but when you travel to school by bus early in the morning and then don't get home until tea-time combined with six months of darkness it's easy to slowly and then quickly create that gap, that distance. This was especially so for Norman who probably worked in the evening at homework-I was still hanging out for a while with the local kids.

From that time we only ever passed like ships in the night. Around 1970 Mr Stewart left the police force and bought a general stores shop at Eastfield and a nice stone built house a hundred yards down the road at the beginning of Musselburgh. Some of the local boys visited once or twice coming back with the extraordinary revelation that the beach and sea (River Forth) could be accessed from their back garden. I never visited, but occasionally a group of us cycled by the shop on one of our long bike rides in summer. On one of these occasions I looked in to buy a sweet, but it was a stranger who served me. I think the business only continued for a few years.

I occasionally wonder what happened to Norman, because at one time he was an integral part of my life for many years sharing many experiences both within the classroom and outside school, and thus we were subject to a similar process of socialisation-the same, but different. I know that both his parents died in the last decade or so.