NEEEP!-Bonus Post From Douglas Blades On Bus Crash At Oxgangs!

Peter,

Looked at BLOG tonight. Front page was Aug 2012 and mentioning the bus which toppled over. It was Leyand PD3 with Alexander body and reg ASC 655B. Here’s a photo of it on another service on the front cover of Buses magazine.

I'm fairly certain (and George Upstairs has confirmed so) that this is off the ECT Leyland PD3/6 Alexanders double deck 655 (ASC 655B) bus that came a cropper at Oxgangs on Wednesday June 18 1975 when it fell over one day and was subsequently scrapped. I have memories of finding the hulk in Shrubhill Works and managing to acquire this. Mind you someone with a fleet body list for Edinburgh should be able to verify it. The serial number is E/1/3463/5. Alexanders were for many years in the 1960s to the 1980s the coach-builder of choice for Edinburgh-based up the road in Falkirk they are of course, still in business.

As for the accident I have the Edinburgh Evening News for the day-and nine were hurt in the accident-a lorry hit the bus as it turned right from Oxgangs Road North and Oxgangs Avenue.

From George Upstairs: So you're right Mike. Also, see the beast itself.

Comment From Circle1939: It wasn't actually the accident which resulted in 655 being scrapped. The crane sent out to get the bus managed to distort its offside doing so and that was enough to put 655 off the road for good.

I have two angles on the bus story. Our father, Charles Blades, was shaving at the side window in the large bedroom and that window looked out towards the junction – I wasn't in at the time but the story was related later – when he  exclaimed to our mother, Helen, that bus is toppling over – or words to that effect!

I think I was away to work at the Transport Dept by the time it happened but Mike Ashworth is correct, they did make a mess of getting it back up again so it had to be written off. I too visited the remains in Shrubhill after the event. The engineers had coincidentally just been considering having an exercise in raising a toppled decker when this happened. Normally they would bolt a large iron upright bar to the two upper hubs and perhaps drive a couple of large metal pins against the wheels on the ground to stop the thing slipping. Well, whatever they did they couldn't raise it hence the crane and infliction of terminal damage!

And as you can see from above – someone managed to retain the body plate a souvenir!

Douglas

Life And Death In Oxgangs And Dallas

John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated on this day, 22 November, 1963.

I was seven years old. Iain Hoffmann was coming up for his fifth birthday. Anne Hoffmann would have been two.

We heard the news while the family was waiting in our sitting room at 6/2 Oxgangs Avenue for the number 16 bus.

The television was on in the background and the story dominated the headlines.

I may have been young, but I understood this was something significant.

And, because of the extraordinary advances in technology and communications over the century we were hearing the news live as it happened.

Waiting for the number 16 bus (Peter Hoffmann, 2008)

Before the small wood was planted in the big field behind The Stair we enjoyed the relative luxury of queuing in our sitting room for the number 16 bus and then later on the number 5 bus too.

So, no cold, wet or draughty bus stops for us.

We could see directly across the back field toward the top of Oxgangs Road North.

We must have had very keen eyes back in the day, not to mention being quick on our pins. But, I the Blades family at 6/6 and the Hoggs up above us at 6/4 also did the same - they would have needed to be even quicker to get to the bus stop in time.

Whenever a bus appeared on the horizon, there was great excitement - 'Is it the16 or is it a 4 or a 27?'

If it was the 16, then it was all hands to the pump. 'Right, switch the television off-lets go!' If it was the 4 or the 2- temporary deflation, until the next Edinburgh Corporation bus appeared.

We were pushing our luck slightly because we had to leave the house and then cross the road to the bus stop which was opposite 8 Oxgangs Avenue.

We also depended on the bus stopping outside the dentist and doctors' surgeries. This was usually always the case because it was the busiest bus stop in Oxgangs.

Our hit rate must have been 99% plus - I can only recall ever missing a bus once or twice. That must have occurred when a driver thought he was Jim Clark and there had been no one at the surgeries' bus stop. Can you picture our faces - the Hoffmanns gaily traipsing or stepping out and the bus flying past!

But just imagine being able to watch television whilst waiting for a bus. And more surreal still, watching and listening to the dreadful news that an American President had been assassinated and then walking across Oxgangs Avenue to get on a number 16 bus. An extraordinary juxtaposition; one of the major moments in the 20th century - a moment in history which will never be forgotten and all the while in our small world at The Stair, life carrying on as normal - or at least seemingly so, because for each and every one of us of a certain age, we can recall the moment when they heard the news - even someone as young as seven years of age.

A gunshot that was heard throughout the world - even in Oxgangs. Life would never be quite the same again either at a universal level or at a local level.

Life and death in Oxgangs; and in Dallas.

Working At Bairds' Newsagents-The Darkness and The Light-The Darkness

Mr Andrew Baird, the son of the founder of Baird's Newsagent
(Photograph courtesy of Louise Baird)

From behind the keyboards it's too easy to romanticise the past. And it's ridiculously too easy to romanticise getting up early to do a morning paper run and reflect upon its character-building qualities. 

Getting up early in the dark was rarely easy; even if you had gone to bed early the evening before. However, once you had got over the initial shock of the Big Ben repeater alarm going off and got a bit of tea and toast into your system, the travelling down to Baird's Newsagents, Morningside Drive for our paper rounds on the 6.00 am Number 16 bus wasn't too bad in the winter months - the bus was cosy - the company of Liz, Fiona and Gail Blades and Christina and Maureen Hogg was good and the craic between the conductor and the cleaners was funny. 

Once inside  the shop you were out of the cold, the wet and the dark. For half an hour it was quite Dickensian - like a small factory through the back of the shop where we folded the newspapers on the worktop in preparation for Pamela Baird arriving later to make up the paper runs.

Being Morningside most of the newspapers were broadsheets. Liz and Fiona were like robots - the speed at which they folded the papers was uncanny - they were like lightning. I could never keep up with them. When they weren't about I enjoyed appearing fast to the novices. When we had finished, our hands were dark and dirty from the ink.

Pamela Baird

I liked Pamela and warmed to her; I also admired the way she assumed responsibility for the business after her father died. She wasn't an early morning person so it was a struggle for her too; and running the business must have placed a heavy burden upon her at that time - in the afternoon she could be fun. I wonder what became of her in the decades after the shop was sold?

She came from a different class to us; Fiona and I would give one another knowing smiles and glances when Pamela answered the telephone and put on a posh accent for the benefit of her customers - there would be exaggerated pauses as she said 'Mmmh, yaass....mmmh yaass...mmmh yass'. 

I liked working for Baird's, however, the thing which brassed me off slightly was that although we arrived at the shop half an hour earlier than the children from Morningside Pamela would make up their runs first - I always felt this was class discrimination; I assumed they were the children of friends and neighbours and who attended more local schools such as George Watsons School. However, Fiona was smart as a whip and actually memorised her run so she didn't have to hang around.

I did the Morningside Drive run which was one of the biggest runs at the shop - I had to collect a second bundle of papers from Pamela's brother, Stuart, who dropped it off on the garden wall at St Clair Terrace from his little Triumph Herald car; what was even more irritating was that he was always late!

The Baird family with Stuart and Angela at the front

Although this was effectively a double paper round, Baird's paid well at a pound a week it was double the going rate and our bus fares were paid for too. We also felt a certain ownership too - despite the size, length and time taken I regarded the Morningside Drive run as mine, (until I took over the City Hospital from Douglas Blades) and took a certain pride in ensuring the post got through no matter the obstacles. Was it Tuesdays or Fridays that were the worst because the Daily Telegraph had a magazine insert in it which considerably added to already heavy bags.

Saturday bags were also heavier, with a weekend magazine, but somehow, Saturdays were never a struggle.

Once you had set out from the warmth and company of the shop we cut lonely, solitary figures - the winter mornings were dark and often quite bitter - Morningside Drive was quiet; the graveyard was on the opposite side of the road for a stretch - lovely mansion and town houses by day were surprisingly spooky and shadowy in the dark, especially when the wind blew through the swaying, leafless branches of the big old trees that lined Morningside Drive.

Looking back it was certainly character building - athletics training in such conditions in later years I took in my stride, probably because I had been steeled and inured in those earlier years working for Baird's. And whilst I do see a certain value in the overall experience, it was not conducive to performing well at school and reaching one's potential - when d'Artangnan asked me a few years ago if he could do an early morning paper run I admired his chutzpah and work ethic, but I said no, because I wanted him to get as much sleep as possible to grow and to be fresh for school; and today I guess we're more aware of the health & safety dimension too.

More in later blogs on life at Baird's and observations and reflections - under The Light where I also want to mention a poem Happiness by Raymond Carver.

Postscript

Much to my delight, on Saturday, 17^th March, 2018, I met up with Pamela Baird for coffee at Burr & Co, George Street, Edinburgh for the first time in at least 46 years. She looked very well - vibrant and chatty - it was absolutely lovely to see her once again and to catch up on what happened to Baird's Newsagents in the years after I stopped working there.

Pamela left the year after I finished working there (1971) to get married in 1972 and she moved away to West Lothian where she has lived since. The shops (there were three adjoined - a toy shop and a card shop too) were sold on to an American, who only ran the businesses for a year or so afterwards.

In many ways Pamela was glad to move on as managing the newsagents placed a heavy burden on her young shoulders - she was only nineteen years old when her Dad died in 1966 and she had to leave working at the bank to take up the reins and the hours were long. Prior to this, she used to give her dad a break from the shop for an hour to allow him to nip home to watch the wrestling on a Saturday afternoon, so she gained some experience then of running the shop.

It was very gratifying for me to be able to convey my thanks to her for being able to work there - I loved working for Baird's - they were good employers - it was an important part in my young life for three years - it left a deep impression upon me and taught me much about the values of discipline, hard work and resilience and depending upon yourself as well as being part of a team and of course the importance of earning your corn.

ps Pamela mentioned to me that one of her younger sisters, Angela, who lives in Australia, said she recalled me taking her out to see the film, Grand Prix, at the Dominion Cinema and being young, nervous and naive that instead of taking her for a coffee afterwards, spotted a number 16 bus saying ‘Oh, here’s my bus home’ and leapt on - I don’t recall our date, but it sounds just like me!

Chariots of Fire - The 27 Bus

Of all the buses that served Oxgangs the loveliest route was probably the number 27, just squeezing out the number 5. 

Despite the smoke it was always worth sitting upstairs to take in the views. 

The number 27 bus wound its way down past some very lovely houses at Craiglockhart, past Meggetland and the Union Canal, and on through the wide avenues of the stone built houses at Polwarth; and from there on through Tollcross to George IV Bridge and down The Mound, with its majestic views over Princes Street. 

The 27 at Tollcross en-route for Oxgangs Photograph courtesy Pete White

Once the bus crawled over the crest of George Street you could see beyond to the Forth and in the far distance the Highlands to the north, before, like a yacht, it sailed further down Dundas Street and along Inverleith Row past RLS's birthplace at Howard Place and on to the Royal Botanic Gardens, always a popular stop. 

As a family, the gardens were as far as we ever travelled for occasional picnics.

The bus of course went further, indeed all the way out to Silverknowes by the sea: I wonder if any residents from The Stair were adventurous enough to have travelled that far for a family outing to there or to Cramond beyond? 

When I played football for Hunters Tryst or rugby for Boroughmuir, the matches were often held at Meggetland, so I took the bus from Oxgangs. 

With our bus tokens clutched tightly in our hands my team mates and I were optimistic and slightly apprehensive, but I always looked forward to the game. And then come the summer of 1968 the 27 took the Hunters Tryst School athletics team down to the excitement of the Edinburgh Interscholastics Championships at Meggetland (joined on the bus at Firrhill by the Oxgangs Primary School team). Not only were some of us getting an afternoon off school but there was the great buzz of being able to compete.

Perhaps my father was unemployed at the time but he was able to come along to Meggetland that afternoon and spectate - a happy memory - as I was lucky enough to win the final and it was a rare occasion to be on the receiving end of a little praise from him.

I recall him back at 6/2 laughing whilst telling my mother that during the final he overheard one of the judges saying Here comes the bare-footed kangaroo! 

I enjoyed travelling home on the 27 clutching my treasured little enamelled gold pin flag and he had the good sense to sit apart from me and my team-mates on the ride back to Oxgangs - Chariots of Fire on a small canvas.

I also took the Number 27 bus each week day for my first two years at Boroughmuir School when I attended the Junior School which was located at West Bryson Road.

On occasions the class might have to follow part of the 27's route walking along Gilmore Place in a snake like procession for science lessons at the main school at Viewforth.

And on the rare occasions I attended Games at Meggetland - usually I was skiving - it was the 27 which I was able to take home afterwards, but not before purchasing a dinky bottle of Dunbar's juice and some sweets or crisps from the stable door of the groundsman's wife's bungalow where she ran a small tuck shop for pin money.

But it was always quite pleasant on fine days sitting on the warm pavement or leaning against a wall in Colinton Road awaiting the bus to appear - somehow on a late afternoon, I was never in any real hurry to get back home to Oxgangs knowing the bus schedule was always pretty dependable.

It was the 27 bus that on Saturday 6 March 1971 five of us took to go off for a spring adventure - Ali Douglas; Les Ramage; Boo-Boo Hanlon; Iain Hoffmann; and myself getting off at the Lawnmarket to walk up to Edinburgh Castle before walking down the Royal Mile thereafter traversing Arthurs Seat all the way to Portobello to explore our Scottish heritage.

The number 27 always felt a safe bus to be on although as Karen Alexander Dean said I liked the 27 too, but it was always a bit scary getting off at the foot of the Mound at the first stop, was it Castle St? The buses used to go really quickly and if the lights were green - you had to cling on for dear life!

And of course if you were coming back home to Oxgangs from Tollcross late at night after grabbing a quick chippy, many of us stood midway between the 16 and the 27 bus stops giving us the choice of our chariot homewards.

Photograph Tom Guffin

Mike Scott of The Waterboys speaks eloquently of buses.

He recalls what a lovely bus the number 23 was.

Essentially the 23 was a sister bus to the Number 27 but instead of taking in the working class area of Oxgangs, it finished its terminus at the more middle class enclave of Balcarres Street, Morningside.

Scott mentions the bus in the song 'Edinburgh Castle':

'I jumped on a bus a trusty number 23

to the Royal Botanical Gardens where a ghost was calling me

I saw a brace of weeping willows,

a burnt and withered land

I saw a man and a little boy...

Buses-Good, Bad, Indifferent and Mysterious (1)-The Number 16

In his posthumously published book of essays The Memory Chalet the brilliant historian Professor Tony Judt wrote of his favourite bus route, The Green Line Bus.

Morningside Road (Photograph, Douglas Corrance)

Throughout the 1960s the bus numbers 4, 16 and 27 served Oxgangs. In the late 1960s the number 5 was introduced, extending its terminus from Morningside to Oxgangs.

Generally speaking the bus service to Oxgangs was superb - we at The Stair who were all great users of the bus service probably didn't quite appreciate just how good it was at the time. For decades I suspect the bus service in Edinburgh has probably been amongst the very best if not the best in the United Kingdom; busses served Oxgangs from early in the morning - around 5.30 a.m. until half an hour or so before midnight.

For the Hoffmanns the number 16 bus was our favourite and the most used. We liked its route through Morningside, Bruntsfield and all the way to Princes Street-we were less keen when it ventured down Leith Walk, but rarely ventured down that way.

It was the bus that took me to and from Bairds' Newsagents at Morningside in the early mornings in each of the seasons of the year. Oh, how I enjoyed standing on the open platform on the home journey on sun-kissed summer mornings, as it tore along Oxgangs Avenue on my return from delivering newspapers. Often, before eight o'clock, Esther, Ruth and Alison Blades would already be out playing at the front of The Stair.

It was the bus that took my mother to work at the east end of Princes Street in later years. It was the bus that took me to and home from Boroughmuir School at Bruntsfield. It was the bus that took my father to work at his various working locations over the years. And it was the bus on which I came across his ghastly presence on one late afternoon when I had stolen money from my mother's purse; I had spent it on a good time in town - I thought I'd be smart and get off the bus one stop earlier - I hadn't spotted Ken Hoffmann on the packed bus until I was about to get off - he said I'll see you shortly son. It was with a very heavy heart that I wearily walked along the remainder of Oxgangs Avenue to The Stair to face the punishment of a overly severe spanking.

The bus took on different moods depending on the time of the day. Very early mornings were surprisingly cheery in the company of the couthy, sparky school cleaners; weekday mornings with workers going off to work would be silent, mournful, slightly depressing occasions; upstairs meanwhile would be contained within a fug of cigarette smoke. During the day, the bus would be quieter, with some local women who were lucky enough to venture into town. The after school buses were always packed, so less enjoyable, but better than going in during the morning with the office workers.

Warrender Baths (Photograph Peter Hoffmann)

At weekends the busses were always jollier - it was a happy, optimistic bus that took us out on Saturday mornings to Warrender Swimming Baths which were great fun or to Woolworths at Princes Street for fun, food and photies.

Photograph, Scotsman Publications Ltd.

Late nights were a rarity, but on occasional Sundays when we travelled home together as a family from dark Stockbridge via Princes Street to Oxgangs in the deep mid-winter we couldn't wait to get on board the number 16, to sit on the long seats downstairs beside the heater where we snuggled up to rid ourselves of the winter chill that had set in whilst awaiting the bus.

Photo, Thomas Morgan McGurk

Those were still the days of bus conductors. The conductors' manner and demeanour often set the tone - it didn't depend on their gender, but usually women exhibited better customer care.

Annie Boyle - legendary 16 bus clippie.

There was one lady clippie - Annie Boyle - who had a giant personality - her bus was always a joy to travel on; she was amusing, funny and full of good cheer interacting with her passengers enjoying the craic and chatting to the kids too! As the 16 wound it's way towards Oxgangs she would call out the names of the stops and the streets. I've occasionally written about the difference between a transaction and a relationship and her approach to customer care was most certainly a great example of the latter.

A Number 16 'conductor-less bus' from  the late 60s/ early 70s

Yes, the number 16 served as a vehicle, but not just for getting us all from point A to point B, but it also served as a vehicle for our moods - happy, sad, reflective; it was a vehicle for conversation and friendship where you caught up with friends and neighbours, news and views and you could strike up surprisingly good chats with neighbours who you might only normally pass the time of day with; and it was a bus that carried our hopes, aspirations, dreams - to school exams; job interviews; dates at the cinema - and thereafter carry us homeward, either full of joy or deeply despondent.

On one occasion the 16 bus was bowled over. It was Leyand PD3 with Alexander body and registered ASC 655B. Here’s a photo of on the front cover of Buses magazine of the bus that came a cropper at Oxgangs on Wednesday June 18 1975 when it fell over one day and was subsequently scrapped. 

The Edinburgh Evening News for the day said nine were hurt in the accident - a lorry hit the bus as it turned right from Oxgangs Road North and Oxgangs Avenue. It wasn't actually the accident which resulted in 655 being scrapped. The crane sent out to get the bus managed to distort its offside doing so and that was enough to put 655 off the road for good.

The inimitable Douglas Blades (6/6 Oxgangs Avenue) comments: Our father, Charles Blades, was shaving at the side window in the large bedroom and that window looked out towards the junction. I wasn't in at the time but the story was related later. He exclaimed to our mother, ‘Helen, that bus is toppling over – or words to that effect!

So, day in-day out; week in-week out; year in-year out, even after it had once been bowled over by a lorry while turning at the junction with Oxgangs Road North the bus carried more than just its passengers - it somehow was a symbol or an emblem for Oxgangs. Long live the number 16!

The Generation Game

Derek Cameron, Owner and Manager Dominion Cinema (Photograph by Yerbury)

'Nice to see you'...that's always been the friendly approach deployed at the family owned and run Dominion Cinema, Newbattle Terrace, Morningside, Edinburgh. Their approach to customer care is one which veers towards a relationship rather than a transaction-a concept which I'll explore in a future blog.

Dominion Cinema circa 1972

The cinema has remained in the ownership of the Cameron family for three generations. Until his death last year, Derek Cameron, the manager, never seemed to change in appearance even into the new century'. He was a charismatic individual; as you go down the steps inside the building to the lower level the walls are adorned with lovely old photographs of stars from the glamorous world of the cinema-Derek Cameron was at least as handsome as Cary Grant. And of course as mentioned in the News Column, it was Oxgangs' very own, Bernie Calder who was the projectionist for decades.

During the 1960s many, very happy Saturday afternoons were spent at 'T'he Dom'. Seven Brides for Seven Sisters seemed to be on regularly as did Genevieve and Reach For The Sky-Kenneth More had a very comforting presence. In Genevieve, the mews lanes in London reminded me of those at Merchiston.

The cinema was large-back then the Art Moderne building could seat 1375 people in its cavernous space. Saturday afternoon matinees were the most usual occasion for our visits-there would be a mix of us in attendance-Iain Hoffmann; Ali Douglas; Boo-Boo Hanlon; the Ramage twins, Les and Derek; and others too. After the matinee performance finished we regularly tried to sneak in to see the tea-time performance, by hiding in the loos; then when the lights dimmed, we went back in to the cinema under the cover of dark-as you could imagine, this wasn't always successful.When we were successful it made for a long day in front of the cinema-too long for Iain who might end up with a migraine

We were never flush with money, particularly when one added bus fares and the price of a Kia Ora drink onto the cost of admission. When we were hungry could we delay gratification for the pleasure of a nice, comfortable bus journey home at the expense of a sweet treat? It was always a tough call, because the walk home was a long one with much of it uphill. More often than not we would end up spending our bus fare home to Oxgangs on some sweets.The ideal was of course to have the best of both worlds.

Morningside Road on board the bus home. (Photograph by  Douglas Corrance)

Often we would chance our hands, get on board the number 16 bus and tell the bus conductor we had lost our fares. Try doing that today! Anyway, sometimes the conductor would be sympathetic and let us ride for free-I wonder if that was gender influenced at all? Did female conductors show a more caring dimension? If we did get told to get off the bus, hopefully it had at least travelled a mile or so up Morningside Road; although I think one or two caustic or even toxic conductors rang the bell several times for an immediate stop!

In the early 1970s I didn't attend regularly-I notice from a diary that I went to see Where Eagles Dare on Monday 19 April-the Edinburgh Holiday and declared the film to be 'fabulous'.

The following year the cinema was converted to a dual screen facility-today there are four screens.

Whenever I'm down in Edinburgh Tom and I always go along on a Friday evening; whenever they're in the capital, Will and his girlfriend Diane, always attend too-great to see the next generation experiencing the simple pleasures we got from half a century before.

Bed in Summer

We had to go to bed far too early on summer evenings when we were young. We children had the back bedroom which faced toward the Pentland Hills and the scree slopes of Caerketton and Allermuir. It was south  to south west facing and therefore enjoyed the sun from lunch time until early evening. The curtains would hardly contain the light and I would lie in bed on the top bunk watching the shadows of the numbers 4, 27 or 16 Edinburgh Corporation buses move and circulate around three of the four walls of our bedroom. Occasionally there would be the sound of footsteps going past of an adult returning home from work to Oxgangs Street or going out for an evening outing. Worst of all were the sounds of other children laughing and shouting, still out enjoying themselves playing. I suppose it must have been the same for the Hoggs, the Blades and the Duffy children too? It may have been a small comfort if we'd realised we weren't alone-a century before Stevenson clearly experienced the same thing too.

Hi Peter

Fiona here. It took me a while to get round to responding to your text to visit the blog. It’s good. You've done a lot of work, lots of good pictures, lots of information to stimulate thought.

I knew you had a connection to Buchan pottery somewhere but I didn’t know exactly what it was, so thanks for clarifying that. Whenever I think of your grandfather, and I can picture him quite clearly, I think of Buchan pottery. I visited his house on several occasions with you and I must have seen examples of it there because I always make that connection. 

In your Bed in Summer item, you spoke about buses and I suddenly remembered the incident with the number 16, when one morning one fell on to its side and slewed into the fence of St Hilda’s Church across the road. I guess it must have been around 1967/8. I suppose it may be mentioned somewhere in the Scotsman Archive. Apparently what had happened was that it had been turning right into Oxgangs Avenue from the main road, Oxgangs Road North (?) one morning, when a lorry going straight on had clipped its back quarter, knocking it off balance. It made a loud BANG as it hit the ground and we were all the window in our house like a shot to see what had happened. We never expected that! Fortunately the bus had been fairly empty and no one was seriously hurt, just a little stunned. Great excitement though. I don’t know how they got it back up again because we had to go to school and it was gone when we got home.

Just one comment about the blog, the script is laborious to read.
I’m going to tell some others about your blog, so hopefully you will get some more comments fairly soon. Fiona Blades

Thanks Fiona-good to hear from you. Yes, I remember about the bus toppling over-interesting and illuminating that it was a lorry that had caused the accident-I'd probably have wrongly surmised that it must have happened in winter-a mixture of a right hander and ice-a useful wee reminder of just how easy it will be to get things wrong in future! When I worked on the Edinburgh & Dumfries-shire three wheel milk floats there was always the excitement in winter of going down the very steep Craighouse Road before the 90 degree turn into Craighouse Gardens (Balcarres St)-all the milk boys had to go onto the driver's side to prevent the float going over. Good point on the font-Will's spoken to me before about that. Fiona Blades

Fiona again.

Hi Peter

The Duffy you can't remember is 'Ann'

I like the reminder about the milk floats. Even as I read I can hear the whining sound of the motor. just as when I saw the picture of the rubbish chute I could instantly smell the odour it effused; a mixture of ash and damp vegetable peelings. Fiona Blades

Well spotted-the second I read Ann, her face came back to me immediately. I'll devote a future blog to the milk floats and also some of the adventures a few of us got up to when I delivered milk for a couple of dairies from a small metal two wheeled cart. One of the dairies was Berry's at Falcon Road West-can't remember the one I worked for up at Bruntsfield Place. The chute works on a very simple premise, yet when it became blocked, I was always very impressed when one of the practical men in the stair cleared it-I had assumed it must have taken a great feat of engineering! Peter Hoffmann