Whispers from the Close Echoes from the Glen

'In this his 70th year, James Boswell, a town and country dweller, publishes the first of his journals - January - which will go on to cover the four seasons of the year. It's a memoir of Scots, Sorts and Sensations set within small world Scotland based upon the diaries, journals and notebooks which he has kept since he was a 14 year old Boroughmuir schoolboy growing up in Oxgangs and into late 20th century Edinburgh of Colinton, Morningside, and Portobello before to moving to the Scottish Highlands in 1996. But unlike most memoirs, the vignettes record the story of day-to-day Scottish life as recorded at the time, rather than through the telescopic lens of memory.'

Hunters Tryst Primary School v Bruntsfield Primary School, circa 1970

This popped up on a friend’s Facebook timeline, circa 1970; to get a 4-2 win begs the question that it must have been a good Hunters Tryst team as that Bruntsfield Primary School team won the Hamilton Cup and School Board Cup; not to mention putting four goals past Bruntsfield's goalie, David Larter, who played for the successful Edinburgh Schools team that won the Wilson (Scottish) Cup; David went on to have a distinguished career as a goalkeeper..

A Moment In Time Hunters Tryst Primary School Class Photograph, Year 1962-1969

Carol Ramage, previously of 4/3 Oxgangs Avenue sent me a copy of her class photograph at Hunters Tryst Primary School, 1962-1969.

Carol is seated in the second row, second in from the right; she's still as slim!

Two seats in from Carol is Nancy Black. Would any readers like to name some of the others in the photograph and their position? I think Irene Burns; Ian McLeod; John McQuater; Audrey Stuart; John Wilkinson; and Lorna Veitch are all there, but I'm unsure of their position other than Ian who is back row, second right.

As ever, it's always interesting to see some of the other details - the carpets and the school benches which were always brought out on such occasions; the washing is hanging out in the back gardens of Oxgangs Park so it must be a fine day because it's bed sheets that are swaying in the breeze - a Monday even?; and also the recently demolished former St John's Church bell tower in the far background.

I always think it a shame that the general culture was to not include the class teacher in the group - a significant and unfortunate omission, especially half a century on. 

Oxgangs Memories by Pat Rafferty

Hi Peter,

I saw your blog and read your book - I thoroughly enjoyed it!

I grew up in 22 Oxgangs Farm Drive and Anne Duffy (6/8) of ‘The Stair’ was my best friend at secondary school. 

Her mum helped me out when my father went a bit berserk with me - she had a kind heart. 

Like you, my brother also had a crush on Laura Duffy (6/8 Oxgangs Avenue)) as did a lot of other boys at school. 

Joyce Colbron, who you mention, lived below me and I have an old photograph of us on the old waste ground - we were the Raffertys and the others, the Colbrons. It was taken at Oxgangs Farm Drive where the self-build houses go round Oxgangs Farm Grove. If my memory is correct the house which was built where we were playing belonged to a lad called Ewen Macleod’s family, but the photograph was taken before they moved in. Going there today it looks as if these new houses have been there as long as ours - it’s hard to imagine it all formerly being wasteland.

My brother Mike trying to look invisible; my sister Cath behind him; also Sheila; Margaret; and Joyce Colbron. Ann my other sister is behind.

We were the Raffertys and there were seven of us in total.The photograph was taken where Ewen Macleod's house was going to be built on the waste ground at the end of where several bungalows were to be built all the way along to the woods entrance near the NAAFI slope possibly as self build houses. 

Oxgangs Farm Grove

We were friendly with the Colbrons for a short time and then who knows what happened, but for years the two families didn't speak and later we moved away from Oxgangs. I think our family was the first to move in to our stair and the Colbrons the last; and I don't have many good memories of that time.

Oxgangs Farm Drive

You also mention the Andreettis; what a sweet lady Mrs Andreetti was. Freddie, one of her sons, was in my brother’s class at St Marks and he was a nice kid. I used to have to go to their shop (at Colinton Mains) in the morning before school for groceries and if Mr Andreetti wasn't there Mrs Andreetti would sometimes give me a Milky Bar. We didn't get sweets often and this was a real treat for me; so much so, I used to save it, but had to hide it in my jumper where it always melted - I can't stand white chocolate now! It was a kindness I’ll never forget.

Colinton Mains Shops

I must have been very shy because I used to hate walking past the bus stop at the dentist’s on Oxgangs Road North, as there was always a big queue; so instead, when going for the groceries, I used to walk by the self-build houses at Oxgangs Farm Grove to the path at the side of the woods and go the back way through to the lane next to the Colinton Mains shops; it was actually very scary, but I was able to go back home along the main road and past the bus stop because it was maybe a bit quieter going back if the busses had been.

I was best friends with Anne Duffy (6/8) at secondary school; they were a very nice family and once when my dad was really berserk (I now know that he had a bad fall from a high height and damaged his back and my aunts have said his personality could transform from being pleasant to being the father from hell in one breath) - anyway one day I couldn't take anymore; I must have been about thirteen or fourteen and ran out of the house; however one of my slippers got caught in the door and I was too scared to go back for it. I shouted ‘I’m going to the police’ and I remember running past the dentist bus stop with only one slipper on and tears running down my face; however as I got to Dr.Motley’s surgery (situated next door to Mr Russell the dentist) I thought, They will just take me right back home - so I decided my next stop was to the Duffys (6/8 Oxgangs Avenue). 

When Annie (Mrs Duffy) saw me she was so kind. She went up to my parents and when she came back said it is all sorted and you’ll stay here tonight and no school tomorrow; and when you go back nothing will be said. I don’t know what she said to my dad but when I did go back nothing was said. Annie could be very strict and give a good tongue lashing - did my dad finally get a bit of that? And did it make him think? Who knows, but that was a very good thing which she did for me.

Mrs Annie Duffy and Mr Duffy

When I was older and we went dancing, I usually went back to the Duffys to stay the night and Mr Duffy was also a good man. I would hear him pop himself around the door just to check we were all home safely and then leave; I loved that, as we never grew up with caring from our parents and I always felt wanted when I stayed with the Duffys. The only downside was that I was expected to go to church with them on the Sunday - a small price to pay for feeling so secure. 

St Mark's Church, Oxgangs Avenue

I just thought I would give you a little insight into the folk I knew (The Duffys, 6/8) that you didn't know much about. I hope it was of interest.

Oops, I’ve just recalled that Laura wasn't a sister; she was in fact a cousin. Her mum died and I think her dad was in the forces or overseas and Annie and John brought her up with their own family - that was the kind of people they were, with big hearts.

Sadly, Anne and I only keep in touch with a Christmas card now. When we had our families because of school etc and at the time neither of us could drive and Anne had moved to Gilmerton and I was at Duddingston, so we never had any time; then we moved abroad and came back and just never really got back together. Yet I know if I bumped into her now it would be just like yesterday again, but I guess we all move on. I did speak to her sister Mary not too long ago and she said Anne still isn't on Facebook - such a shame. She married about a year or so after me and had three boys and a girl. I didn't go to the local school, St.Marks; the only one of us who did was my younger brother so I didn't meet the Duffys until secondary school.

Anne and I used to go ice skating as well as to the dancing together and were very close until our own families went on to school. We also went to Germany together-we must have been only sixteen, so it was a big adventure for us. She was also a bridesmaid at my wedding in 1975. 

I can't really remember much about John or James. I seem to think John got married and lived in Colinton Mains but I’m not 100% sure.I think James was the more mischievous one! Mary went on to become a nurse. Laura was different and always seemed aloof, but she really wasn’t and could be really funny. I remember listening to a Gary Glitter record and Laura belting it out at the top of her voice - I wonder if she remembers that! I do think all the boys fancied her; she too got married, I think to a postman and had children.

I noticed you became Friends on Facebook with John McDonaugh; he also lived in our Stair and I think he had a sister Marion. I remember my brother once playing in their front garden but no other memories of them. 

John McDonaugh (back row middle); Joyce Colbron (third left in row three) with the Author to her right; Ewen Macleod (second from the end of row three).

Unfortunately, Hunters Tryst Primary School brings back some horrid memories to me. Like you we had blue dinner tickets (free school dinners) and for some reason during the summer holidays we had to go to Hunters Tryst for our lunches; although there were quite a few folk in a similar position there, but at the time you felt you were the only individuals receiving free meals. Well, we didn't know anyone and kids being kids, we were made fun of, so of course we didn't go back again but had to pretend to our parents we did. The stigma of standing in a queue for a free meal ticket would never happen now so at least some things have changed for the better.

A boy who you mention who you had some run-ins with must have got around as he used to also wait on my brother coming out of St.Marks where the church is and threaten him for money. He never got any as we never ever had money - you would think he would have picked on someone who could have given him something. My brother would dread coming out of school in case he was waiting.

Funny we moved around 1970 to Marchmont, as our parents never liked Oxgangs as they grew up in the town so it was probably too much of a change for them. However I love going back there now. At the time I loved the openness of the area - the hills, the walks and the hours spent on the Pentland Hills or Hillend and the Braid Hills too. As a family we used to go to Spylaw Park, Colinton with a picnic - soggy tomato sandwiches and a bottle of water which we all shared but I loved it and as there was seven of us we could play rounders too - great fun!

I hope I haven't droned on too much!

Pat Rafferty

Hunters Tryst Primary School (Edinburgh Evening News article)

The site of a former school that has lain derelict for eight years is back up for sale amid hopes that developers will snap it up for housing.

Hunter’s Tryst Primary School was closed in 2007 and previous attempts to sell the site were thwarted by the recession. The school was torched by fireraisers in 2008 and was demolished, leaving a brownfield site that has been an eyesore ever since.Now it has been put back up for sale by the council, with the 1.4 acre site marketed as being “well placed for easy access to both the city centre and Edinburgh bypass”.

City finance convener Alasdair Rankin said conditions were right to push for a new sale. Councillor Rankin said: “We always seek to gain best value for the council when selling any of our assets and as market conditions have improved, we have taken the decision that now is a good time to put this site back up for sale.”

The former school building became a magnet for vandalism and antisocial behaviour before finally being pulled down following the fire. Locals had branded the school a “death trap” and firefighters called for its demolition following the blaze. £20,000 was spent on reinforcing security around the site before council officials gave up on the building and the bulldozers were called in.

Pupils were moved from Oxgangs to Pentland Primary in Comiston, and developers Dundas Estates had lined up a planning application for new homes before the global downturn torpedoed the scheme.

Separate plans to build 104 affordable homes put forward by the Dunedin Canmore Housing Association, or to build a care home creating badly-needed local jobs, both also fell by the wayside.

Heather Levy, chairwoman of Firrhill Community Council said: “The community would be very pleased if the site is finally redeveloped. Our preference would be for social housing, because there is a strong need for social housing in the area.” Oxgangs councillor Jason Rust also welcomed the news that redevelopment of the site was back on the agenda. Cllr Rust said: “I welcome the fact that at last there is some action and the economy is such that it is now being marketed. While it is important for the public purse that the council ensures it obtains best value for the site, I hope that the views of residents are properly taken into account come any planning application. “The grounds having lain redundant for so long, we want to ensure what comes is appropriate to the amenity of the area. I will be monitoring this closely.”

One interesting comment: 'Given the amount of land that has been turned over to housing around there in the past why not make it a park?'

http://www.edinburghnews.scotsman.com/news/fresh-bid-to-sell-hunters-tryst-plot-1-3758974?utm_medium=twitter&utm_source=twitterfeed

The White Lady

Did mass hysteria have a ghost of a chance of occurring in Oxgangs in the early to middle sixties?

According to Wikipedia the term mass hysteria refers to collective delusions of threats to society which spread rapidly through rumours and fear. The White Lady was a ghost who was rumoured to have appeared during the 1960s, close to the old school grounds of the former school and been seen by some Hunters Tryst School pupils near Comiston Farm and Comiston FarmHouse

At this time Hunters Tryst School had the most wonderful and extensive school grounds. At the far south-east there was a delightful little copse of woods where the more adventurous or wildest pupils played. The little woodland was relatively far from the school buildings-indeed if the school lunch bell rang out, no matter how fast a runner you were, if you were playing there it was too far away to return to the classroom on time.

The copse sat on a small raised ridge on higher ground-really on a small hillock above the far away second school pitch which nestled down below. The former sports pitch is where the new Pentland Primary School is sited today. 

In this old wood were half a dozen large old trees, some bushes and brush and a path which extended to the school boundary. The first tree had a Tarzan swing on it. It was an excellent spot because children could swing out from the ridged hillock over the immediate drop, which curved away to the grassy valley below.

Comiston House Stables (Photograph by Alan Brown)

At the far end of the copse was a metal fence which formed the extensive boundary of the school. On the other side of the fence were the former Comiston Farm buildings and Comiston House. It was here that some girls had sworn they had seen and been terrified by the appearance of a ghostly white lady. The girls were in such a state of shock that the headmaster Mr Mackenzie and schoolteachers became involved and also the local police too. The sighting went viral and many pupils were seriously spooked, upset and in tears. This happened deep into the autumn months when there were heavy mists around in late October or early November, 1965. 

Sheer bravado on my part, I joined a few friends at lunchtime and we headed up to the copse to see if we might catch sight of the ghostly figure. It was very quiet. The only sounds which could be caught on the autumn breeze were distant children’s voices playing in the far playgrounds. Of course, we didn't see the ghost. We weren't disappointed as it only added to the tension as to what might be out there.

Later that day after school and just as dusk was beginning to fall we ventured out to the old farm buildings. As we roamed around the gloaming and the mist enshrouded surroundings we were on red alert. Darkness was beginning to fall. Talk about a finger on the trigger- when we were very close to Comiston Farm, of a sudden someone screamed out that they had heard something and that was enough-we all turned tail and took to our heels like Tam O'Shanter and ran toward Oxgangs Broadway, down Oxgangs Street and all the way home to the sanctuary of The Stair, without ever looking behind once, in case we might be turned into a pillar of salt!

The day after, a dictat went out from the school-until further notice, the copse and the immediate area of the old farm were firmly out of bounds to all pupils-rather similar to when we were banned from visiting the army's firing range at Dreghorn where we collected used ammunition.

Decades before the advent of social websites and the internet, knowledge and information came slowly. It's understandable how rumours could spread and create mass hysteria in the locality. So much so that many children didn't venture out after school and during playtime and lunch breaks we remained close to the sanctuary of the school. 

If someone had asked about this episode in later years I would have laughed it off as nonsense...and yet...and yet, how does one explain the following quote from Edinburgh: Picturesque Notes by Robert Louis Stevenson:

The district is dear to the superstitious. Hard by, at the back-gate of Comiston, a belated carter beheld a lady in white, 'with the most beautiful, clear shoes upon her feet,' who looked upon him in a very ghastly manner and then vanished.

White Lady Walk (Photo by Neil Black) 

The old stone pillars at the back gate to Comiston House: note the  sign 'White Lady Walk'-the City Fathers must have initiated this new name in recent years-it's part of a well established footpath which Stevenson often trod on his way up to Swanston Cottage as a teenager

I would be surprised if the girls were familiar with the works of RLS, particularly as this is one of his lesser known books. So, perhaps they really did see something. Clearly the City Fathers have recognised this by the new addition to the area's names: White Lady Walk.

Comiston (Photograph by Alan Brown)

Today some of the children at the new local Pentland School occasionally tell tales of The White Lady. Certainly, I'd be reluctant to venture there on a late autumn, misty day, toward dusk.

Anonymous Comment, 2 March, 2016: 'When I was around the age of 10 in the early 70s I used to go up to Bonaly, Oxgangs and the Pentlands Hills with my friend during the school holidays. One occasion we got such a scare that we didn't stop running until we reached home; we were both walking down a dirt footpath near an old rubber mill and for some reason we both turned around and witnessed a woman with a white dress hovering off the ground and you could see the grass underneath her feet. It spooked us and I have never run so fast in my life. On getting home I explained this to my mum who said, 'Oh that will be the White Lady'. As the days passed we just got on with our lives and tonight for some reason it popped into my head again so I did some checking on line and came across this Blog.’ Did mass hysteria have a ghost of a chance of happening in Oxgangs in the early to middle sixties?

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Perchance he for whom this bell tolls may be so ill, as that he knows not it tolls for him; and perchance I may think myself so much better than I am, as that they who are about me, and see my state, may have caused it to toll for me, and I know not that.

 John Donne (1572-1631), Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions, Meditation XVII: Nunc Lento Sonitu Dicunt, Morieris: 

School life at Hunters Tryst generally followed the rhythm of the seasons and moved seamlessly from autumn through winter and spring before we broke up for the magically long summer holidays which in my mind’s eye were always blissfully sunny.The days had a certain pattern too. 

Come the dreaded Monday morning we dragged our feet from home to school. As we made our way along Oxgangs Park the bin men were usually out collecting bins. For some reason it introduced a little excitement. The bin men were always animated and loud and the air was full of dust from the ashes of the cleared fires, but I don’t recall anything ever happening, apart from an occasional car being delayed.

The snows of winter led to some excellent slides being formed on the downhill pavement outside the school entrance at Oxgangs Rise. The slides became so fast and treacherous that neighbours would eventually melt them with a liberal dose of Saxa Salt. The container had a child chasing a hen, with the slogan, See how it runs! And then it was Christmas and a New Year; a new term and learning the poetry of Robert Burns for Burns Day.

As we moved into the spring and after Easter the mornings became warmer and warmer and the scent of hawthorn and whin could be caught on the breeze and the cherry trees came into blossom. It was always a lovely feeling going to school in just a short sleeved top, not to mention the ever present short trousers. 

Sometimes it was a different smell that greeted us on the return journey if Mr McQueen (Catherine's dad) a keen gardener at Oxgangs Park had taken a fresh delivery of farmyard manure for his large vegetable garden. I was always impressed at him doing this as no one else in the community did so; it struck me that he must be more knowledgeable and go ahead than any other local gardener. I liked too that an aspect of the countryside was brought to urban, concrete Oxgangs, albeit a smelly one!

Coming home from school in the afternoon had a very different feel. It was often lighter; always warmer; and you were free, even if it was only for an hour of leisure time. The afternoon departures were both more intense and crowded, with everyone trying to squeeze out together at the same time from the narrow lane exit. Once out into Oxgangs Rise the crowds dispersed quickly unless there were the cries of fight...fight... when a circular crowd would gather. Too often I found myself inside the ring!

Old entrance to Hunters Tryst Primary School

The days followed a pattern which was comforting. When something different happened to interrupt the general cycle of the school year it was always an exciting moment; particularly if it was unexpected. Sometimes we would get away early if the weather took a bad turn, perhaps after a very heavy downpour of rain or a deep fall of snow. Once or twice there was an occasional power cut - getting away early from school was always good news. Other variations in the year would include Harvest Festival and the School Sports Day when we enjoyed a half day.

Hunters Tryst Primary School class 1961-1968

It was school which was the vehicle that brought us all together - to laugh, cry, fight, play, learn and get up to adventures and misadventures - the glue which held us together; and the place where we interacted with teachers who taught us and from whom we learned and with whom we had grown up and who were an integral part of our lives.

Left to right, Peter Hoffmann and Joyce Colbron heading off for the 1968 Hunters Tryst Qualifying Dance; possibly John McDonaugh on the right

As the term drew to a close there was the excitement of The Quali and then come that last week of June, when the school bell rings out for the last time, for those in Primary 7 the world comes to an abrupt end and a new beginning. It happens in the blink of an eye, like a guillotine coming down hard and quick - a brutal act. And we're all knowing, but unknowing. It sounds like a normal bell but in reality and borrowing from Donne is more akin to a funeral bell, signifying the end of school life at Hunters Tryst and the end of the inter-connectedness of social life there. We spend days, weeks, months and years sharing a life together and then it's all over and we go our separate ways.

Similarly, it was The Stair which brought us all together, but unlike life at Hunters Tryst, The Stair as we knew it died a slow, insidious death rather than the cold, clean sounding of a bell. And as mentioned in one of the very early vignettes, The Gap In The Curtain, because The Stair is still there, in a strange way we feel that if we enter through the front door of Number 6, that we can pass seamlessly through to another dimension, to another world, to the world of the 1960s, which of course no longer exists. 

Today, Mrs Hilda Hanlon (6/7) is the last remaining original member at The Stair - The Last of the Mohicans. For the rest of us, we went off in a new direction, to establish new rhythms, new patterns, and new friendships, blissfully unaware that for all the children in our class and at The Stair, when the bell rang out, it rang out for us all. Even for those of us who didn't hear it - it sounded out for the end of an era.

Adolf Hitler Kept Me Out Of The Hunters Tryst School Football Team!

This is a more difficult and sensitive blog to write.

At Hunters Tryst Primary School I had three main teachers - Mrs Berwick; Miss Sulley who I've written about; and Mr Hoddinott. And also for a short while we had an interesting young teacher called Miss Bateman. Miss Sulley was the most interesting and influential, yet it is Mr Hoddinott that I recall most immediately.

Miss Bateman (right)

Over thirty years after leaving Hunters Tryst in 1968 I came across an article in the Edinburgh Evening News about Mr Hoddinott's wife, a lady called Jenny (Jan).

She was about to embark for a very special funeral to be held in the Dutch town of Wins for three brave airmen who had gone down with their RAF Bomber plane over wetland in the Netherlands thereby avoiding hitting the local town. The plane had been returning from a bombing raid over Germany. On the flight was Mr Hoddinott. I came across the under-noted remarkable story:

HODDINOTT, Howard, Harvey, Flt Sgt, 1344173 - Served in WW II with the RCAF. His aircraft was shot down over Holland May 5, 1943, when the Vickers Wellington ([9]) bomber he crewed in was intercepted and hit by a German Messerschmitt Bf 110 ([10]) fighter aircraft. After the crash he was captured by German soldiers and survived two years as a POW. Freed at the end of the war he recovered in a hospital in Britain where he met a Scottish nurse (Jenny (Jan)) who became his wife. He then enjoyed a career as an educator in Edinburgh, Scotland.

This story stopped me in my tracks.

I was completely unaware that Mr Hoddinott had been a war hero, fighting for Canada and therefore Britain as a young man. I am full of admiration and gratitude for what he did for Britain and the future generations who have been able to enjoy a life free from Nazi Germany suppression.

It was fascinating to discover that he came from a well known family in Newfoundland where he was raised; several of the young men from the island signed up.

It's strange the way life pans out - if there had been no Adolf, then Howard Hoddinott would never have gone to war, never met his wife, never have come to Edinburgh and perhaps never have trained as a teacher and of course never taught at Hunters Tryst Primary School.

Unfortunately, at best I had a very mixed relationship with Mr Hoddinott; at worst, one where I suffered under him.

He was our class teacher in P6 and P7.

In some respects I really enjoyed his classes, particularly during P6.

For example, the class would regularly listen to the Schools Radio Religious Service BBC Broadcast first thing in the morning. Immediately after the broadcast he would facilitate a class discussion for half an hour or so. He would take a point from the broadcast and with contributions from the class skilfully develop the particular to the universal - the point to the principle. This was a fantastic approach to education, because it's what education is partly about - drawing out children rather than just informing them. The discussion could end up going in any direction and I found it very stimulating.

I loved these sessions and ironically may have been the biggest enthusiast in the class. I had my hand up most of the time and was a very willing contributor. And young as I was, I understood what he was doing and appreciated the maturity of the approach which he was taking to education - in some respects he was ahead of his time, particularly reflecting recent developments in Scotland under the new Curriculum For Excellence.

I generally enjoyed the rest of the lessons, whether it was English, Arithmetic, etc. 

What I didn't enjoy was that he had to teach taking cognisance of a class of very mixed abilities. 

There were ten or so very able pupils in our class and then some significant gaps to the more middling students and an enormous gap to the less academically able pupils. 

This often meant that a lot of pupils had finished their work well ahead of others. 

As this was often the case, sometimes I got a bit bored and would get up to some low level mischief - usually it was just talking to others; surreptitiously eating Sports Mixtures, Black-Jacks or Fruit Salads; or mucking around; sometimes I would actually be trying to help out some of the bad lads who tended to struggle.

My relationship with Mr Hoddinott deteriorated because of this. 

Today, I can understand how annoying and frustrating low level disruption can be for teachers, however I would have been too feart to engage in any serious misbehaviour. 

Mr Hoddinott was a tall, balding man; he had a very serious disposition and was an imposing figure. Those were the days of the Lochgelly - the leather strap and he could dish that out with the best of them as I know only too well to my cost. He was not someone who I would step over the mark with.

My relationship with him changed dramatically for the worst in P7, after a particular incident. Thereafter, it deteriorated and from then on I felt I was a marked man.

To his credit Mr Hoddinott ran the Hunters Tryst School Football Team. 

There was a wee team composed of P6 boys and the big team which was made up of P7 boys. 

Initially I played for the wee team on the right wing. 

When I first received my purple and yellow horizontally striped football shirt I paraded in front of my mother's full length mirror. Combined with white shorts, long white socks and my classy Adidas La Paz football boots I was like the cat with the cream!

My joy wasn't to last however. 

Mr Hoddinott dropped me from the team after only one game! 

I was devastated, because playing for the school team was probably the most important thing in my life at this time. 

Mr Hoddinott told me he didn't like individuality - despite the concept of the position of winger being to run down the wing, beat players and cross the ball into the box. I'm unsure how much football was played in Newfoundland, so each of us grew up under different sporting philosophies and cultures and therefore had different interpretations and attitudes on how the game should be played.

Football was the game at school and we played every lunchtime and break; getting dropped was a talking point in the school playground. I thought it unfair - well I would of course! However to counter my natural bias my peers regularly picked me first for teams in bounce games. I was the only boy allowed to play with the much older kids in the evenings. I worked very hard on the pitch, could out-sprint any full backs and also run all day too. 

As Mr Hoddinott ran the team and was quite an authoritarian figure there was no way to appeal his decision. 

My sense of impotence, frustration and disappointment was endlessly drummed into me each week. 

The football strips were stored in plastic bags in a long cupboard in his classroom. 

Every Friday each boy would come into the classroom at lunchtime to collect his strip. 

I may be wrong, but I sensed Mr Hoddinott noted my dissonance - this is more instinctive than intellectual but I also sensed he seemed to enjoy an element of Schadenfreude in this matter. 

I thought I would have to endure this omission in P7 too. This would have been even worse because the big team's strip was beautiful. It was purple with a yellow V on the front and back - and beyond imagination, a white number on the back to set the outfit off! 

Of a sudden, there was a ray of hope - unbelievably Mr Hoddinott announced at the end of P6 that he had decided to give up running the team  The role was to be passed on to a local man, Mr Sandilands. He was a policeman and a very pleasant individual.

Mr Sandilands must have been keen to consider his options by holding a trial. Mr Hoddinott sent Mr Sandilands a team list composed of the Probables versus the Possibles. My name wasn't on either list which I felt was unjust particularly as there were some duds in the Possibles team. 

This wasn't quite the end of the matter however. The trial was being held at Colinton Mains Park in the first week of school after the Summer Holidays. 

I turned up with my gear. 

When I was told by Mr Sandilands that my name wasn't on the team sheets, I said in all innocence that 'oh!, there must be a mistake.'

Early in the first half Mr Sandilands brought me on as a substitute and put me in to the Possibles team. 

By half time we were leading five nil and I had scored every goal. At half time I was then put in the Probables team where we managed to pull things back.

The finale to all this was played out a week later. 

As mentioned the school football jerseys were stored in a cupboard in Mr Hoddinott’s classroom. 

On the Friday lunchtime an envelope arrived from Mr Sandilands addressed to Mr Hoddinott. 

It contained the team lists for both the wee team and the big team. 

I’ll never forget the surprise on Mr Hoddinott’s face when he opened the letter and discovered my name at Number 10 - the position in the team. 

I read his mind: How had Hoffmann pulled this off? He glanced up and looked at me with distaste as I walked out to collect the number ten jersey. Unlike the Schadenfreude he had enjoyed a year earlier, mine was purely a boyish joy and innocence at being picked for the team. Thereafter, I enjoyed a full season playing for a successful Hunters Tryst team

After this in class discussions he never asked me to contribute any more, which was frustrating.

I regularly received the belt for small misdemeanours

Later in the school year he put my desk outside the class-room in the cloak-room for a period of about three months. He said I was a disruptive influence in class.

Undoubtedly I was on occasion, but the punishment felt gross and out of proportion. I was a keen pupil and always very prepared to contribute. He of course had to teach to all standards of ability. I was relatively bright and picked things up quite quickly. But I was certainly no more disruptive than many others and those often tended to be kids who were less able. It was easy to get bored if you had finished exercises early. A better approach today would be to use kids who are good at particular subjects to work with kids who are perhaps less able.

The punishment felt over the top and my interpretation, rightly or wrongly, was that it related to me getting one up on him by outmanoeuvring him by getting back into the school football team.

Thereafter, I was isolated from my class mates and lessons.

It also meant that I fell behind with some of my lessons - particularly in areas such as maths, which use building blocks. It meant I was unaware of certain formulas or unable to tackle particular problems not knowing what some symbols meant. 

Because this was an age where there was a lack of transparency and communication my parents were completely unaware of what was going on. Looking back on the episode it was abusive and I was victimised by him. 

I was brought back into the class when we had to sit the eleven plus test. 

It was not long afterwards we all received a small brown envelope. 

For most of the class it meant they were going to the local secondary school, Firhill. However, for a good handful of us, the letter said we were going to Boroughmuir Secondary School.

I was ready to leave primary school and both excited and daunted at the prospect of going there. 

Even the thought of getting the bus to school had a certain appeal to it too. 

My father, Ken Hoffmann, must have been pleased because it was his alma mater, but he seemed to take it in his stride as if it were expected.

Reflecting on this, I was clearly a boy who misbehaved sometimes at school and should have behaved better; that needed to be addressed. But Mr Hoddinott should have included me in the list of boys interested in being considered for the team and certainly not have put me in the cloakroom for three months, which was straight out of Nicholas Nickleby!

Although Mr Hoddinott extracted a modicum of revenge in my final year at primary school, I felt  the real victory was mine. 

What remains in the memory, when we returned in the late summer of 1967 to Hunters Tryst School is that sweet moment on a glorious Friday lunchtime in late August when I discovered I had been re-selected for the school football team; and of Mr Hoddinott reading out the teams and announcing through gritted teeth, that I was playing at Number 10. 

Did one of us or indeed both of us have a Pyrrhic victory - I suspect so?

Postscript: This is of course my remembrance and interpretation of Mr Hoddinott - I'm sure others had a very different experience and in the interest of balance I would greatly appreciate any others' views.