The Sunday Post #3 On the Cusp of the Year and the Return to School

Whilst summer is not quite yet on the heels of early autumn, still the above scene signifies the dreaded return to school after the summer holidays and the start of a new autumn school term. 

The photograph taken up at Swanston Road with the T Woods in the background on the lower slopes of the Pentland Hills and a local farm worker atop a cart and horse carrying hay making gentle progress up the slope on a golden afternoon hints at the cusp when summer very slowly moves toward autumn.

It was on such afternoons throughout the 1960s and on to 1972 that I along with the other twenty four children from the stair at 6 Oxgangs Avenue contemplated our return to the classroom. 

And yet perversely, quite often the weather remained similarly fine and sunny which made it a struggle to return to stifling classrooms at Hunters Tryst, Firrhill and Boroughmuir schools. Those of us with an awareness of the English system would be envious that our peers across the border wouldn't return until September, which seems much more sensible.

For most of the kids we didn't really want to go back, even if by the back end of the holidays being off school had perhaps lost a little of its sparkle. 

I've no doubt though that a few others like Gavin Swanson (6/1 Oxgangs Avenue) who were more studious actually looked forward to the start of the autumn term and the new school academic year. I don't think I ever did, but there was always a certain 'buzz' about going back. 

The boys had visited the hairdresser at Oxgangs Broadway for a Ben Mackenzie haircut - Michael; Boo-Boo; Brian and Alan Hanlon will have had their number ones, whilst Iain Hoffmann and I had our hair plastered down with Ben's famous jungle juice. 

For those with new schoolbags (and that unforgettable smell of leather) or new school clothes and ties or perhaps those going up to secondary for the first time, many will recall these days with a mixture of excitement and pleasure, but pain might be too extreme a word choice!

Many of us were keen to squeeze the last drops from the summer fruits and as the countdown began we managed to play amongst the hay in the fields at Swanston; have grass fights with the mown grass in the front garden of 6/2 Oxgangs Avenue; or late evening games of kick-the can or British Bulldog up at the field.

Bike runs were still taking place - I note that on the 11th August 1972, Paul Forbes (Oxgangs Place); Boo-Boo Hanlon (6/7 Oxgangs Avenue); Iain Hoffmann and I cycled from Oxgangs down through Arthur's Seat to Portobello whilst young Colin Hanlon cycled so far. 

Photograph, Wullie Croal

There was still a certain continuity in our lives as milk runs and paper runs were still being undertaken, because not many of us from the stair went away on holiday.

For a few summers we enjoyed our mini-Olympics at the army's former running track at Redford Barracks which were great fun. We might even manage a final visit to go jumping the burn at Colinton Mains through to the Braid-Burn Valley, but by then the grass and wild flowers and weeds and nettles had perhaps become too overgrown. 

And if it was wet, Iain, Paul and I would enjoy card games with members of the Blades family or play mischievously with their giant tape-recorder with Paul blowing great rasps onto the tape.

Four of the six Blades girls and Anne Hoffmann circa 1963

The cusp of the year was further illustrated and articulated through the school calendar.

But on reflection, what was truly lovely about the summer was that it brought many of us at the stair together whilst school would unfortunately divide us. 

At the start of the autumn term the Duffys (6/8) returned to St Augustine's whilst the Hanlons (6/7); the Hoggs (6/4); Norman Stewart (6/3); the Swansons (6/1); and the Hoffmanns were divided up between Boroughmuir; Firrhill; the Royal High; and of course Hunters Tryst. 

The cusp was thus metaphorical and literal.

Further Lost Photies From The Mists Of Time

Les Ramage with Shane

Michael Hanlon in foreground with Boo-Boo Hanlon

Celtic strip-must be Boo-Boo!

Simon the Cat

The Author on Iain Hoffmann's Raleigh Chopper

Simon the Cat

Iain Hoffmann

The King of the Stair

What a wee star!

Figures On The Edge No 2-Michael Hanlon

Michael was one of the predominant figures at The Stair. He was around nine months or so younger than me. Like me he was in the upper median age group of children at The Stair and was a boy who liked to be outside so was a key figure over the period. As a young lad at primary school he was a gentle and likeable lad, who once he got older and went to Firhill Secondary School came more into his own. He was a very sociable boy and enjoyed playing with most of the boys around. In particular he was friendly with the likes of Jonathan Taylor and Colin McFarlane from local Stairs and also Willie Taylor, Jonathan's brother.

Over the years I must have played hundreds of games of football with Michael and also have gone jumping the burn with him in large groups of boys and girls. Michael and a group of boys were quite into Japs and Commandos types of games which didn't appeal to me, so I tended not to be quite so close to that group of lads as he was.

Michael Hanlon (Willie Taylor in background)

Willie Taylor; Michael Hanlon; Keith Robertson; Steve Westbrook
Front Row: Boo-Boo Hanlon; John Duffy; Mark Robertson; and Iain Hoffmann

Once at secondary school Michael was very proactive in organising more formal football matches than we had previously been involved in-he organised matches in which we (Red Star) had take ons again other local street teams-in my diaries I come across references of Michael wants me to play against Joe Rendall's; Kenny Taylor's; Martin Davidson's teams. I won't bore you with the details of the results, but they were close affairs. Apart from myself all these lads were at Firhill. Michael had to alert me to the games asking if I would turn out. I wasn't playing much football by then as I was playing rugby for Boroughmuir Secondary School.

Whilst I enjoyed these matches and ninety minutes of hard effort I sense a growing frustration in some of my diary entries-I was playing in midfield, but covering a lot of the ground, both forward and back and felt that several of my team-mates weren't pulling their weight-I wasn't specifically critical of anyone, but was saying that I had run myself into the ground. Knowing myself that was probably more a reflection of how competitive I was-I was a fair player, most of the time thinly disguising a very steely will to win whereby I would give my all in these games. Others were much more balanced and probably just enjoyed the matches for what they were, giving a certain amount of effort. Michael as the owner of the team was probably the captain which was just as well-he was a far nicer lad than me and I would have been too hard a task-master, unfortunately probably more in the Roy Kean mould!

On one occasion in the autumn there was a period of very heavy rain where the Braid Burn had completely flooded its banks-at Firhill Crescent at the old multi-storeyed fifteen floor villages in the sky playground the water was very deep. A group of us had ventured out in our Wellington boots. I can recall Michael bending over fascinated by the depth of the burn-it must have been eight feet-well I'm ashamed to say that I couldn't resist giving him a nudge with a gentle knee to his backside-well blow me down he toppled straight over and into the water-we all laughed like drains, made worse when he emerged like a drowned rat exclaiming It's nae funny Peter what will ma faither say! I do recall we dried Mike's clothes in front of our fire before he went up The Stair but probably not before he had given me a bloody nose!

Out-with Douglas Blades and Liz Blades, I think Michael was the first member of The Stair to leave school when he went off to join the Royal Navy-in later years I think Michael had spells with the Fire Brigade and the Army too-a life devoted to public service for which he would have been very well suited.

Figures On The Edge No 1-Gail Blades

As I move toward wrapping up the blog some individuals have featured more prominently than others. That's not necessarily because I've spent more time with them and certainly not because I've preferred some of the children to others. Amongst those who have only occasionally flitted in and out of the story are Gail and Esther Blades; Michael Hanlon; and James Duffy. I also want to make mention of a few others at neighbouring Stairs-The Sibbalds; The Douglases and a few others. As I mentioned in an earlier blog I was never close or friends with the Duffy girls, but neither was I unfriendly toward them either; indeed I liked everyone in The Stair, but as is the nature of day to day life in a tight knit community of eight families-sixteen adults and twenty five children there were ups and downs.

I liked Gail. I always found her to be very friendly. She was pretty. I think she showed an interest in the arts-was she musical and played a little piano? Did she also go along to the Patricia Brown Dance and Ballet School? She had a certain sensibility-she would praise the likes of Mrs Anne Hoffmann if she was going out on a Friday evening-Oh I doooo like your dress Mrs Hoffmann. Some others may have found this charm offensive off-putting, but I rather admired her style! I think she was the last of The Blades children who went to Boroughmuir Secondary School so she was clearly a bright girl.

At one stage I must have been quite close to her, because for a while we did papers together. After Douglas Blades left Bairds' Newsagents I inherited the City Hospital paper run. This was different from any any other run in the shop because one sold the newspapers rather than just delivering them. I can also recall selling cigarettes, tobacco and sweets, but that may have been more associated with the afternoon run when I delivered and sold the Edinburgh Evening News.

My primary memory of Gail at this time was that I had to cycle on Douglas Blades' bike up to the City Hospital with a very large pile of newspapers on the back of the bike-the bundle of papers must have been well over two feet high-well that was hard enough cycling up Morningside Drive and then the short but steep St Clair's Terrace, but bugger me I also had to give Gail a backie too. I was hardly Lance dancing on the pedals-I could manage Morningside Drive and at the end the slow climb up Greenbank Drive, but could never overcome St Clair Terrace-Ahem, excuse me Gail, but you wouldnae mind getting off the bike the noo wid you-ye've maybe no noticed but it's groond tae a halt and we're in danger o' toppling over! 

At the City Hospital we then loaded the papers on to hospital trolleys and did the wards separately. It was clearly a different era then-much more lax, but I found some of the experiences really quite unsettling-there were some bonny sights-I'll spare the detail. I did reflect however whether it was appropriate to be wandering about.

Once we were finished we met up again and it was great cycling back to The Stair-first because we were free and work was over for the time being and second because it was mainly downhill and on the flat-even with Gail on the back I had no trouble driving down on the pedals and sailing up Oxgangs Place. I'm not sure if Gail would have wanted me to carry her all the way up the stairs to 6/6...only joking Gail! Looking back I perhaps should have got into cycling!

The afternoon run was different and more enjoyable. The hospital was busier-it wasn't dark-the sun shone through the windows-visitors might be in-there was a friendlier more hopeful atmosphere and there were no untoward sightings! For the whole of the summer holidays of 1971 I did this job and perhaps beyond; I note from the 1971 Journal that Ali Douglas often came along to keep me company which made it more fun. From that journal I note the arrangement with Pamela Baird was to sell all the newspapers-sometimes I record this as being easy, sometimes it took ages.Pamela was always pleased for a sell out and I was always anxious to please. I must have been dedicated to her cause-I note that one Sunday I'd cycled out from Portobello at 6.30 am in the morning to sell the papers before cycling back down to my grandparents.

As with each and every one of us at The Stair we flitted in and out of one another's lives, depending on the time of day or the season of the year. On a cursory look through diaries there are only occasional references to Gail-Wednesday, 6 October, 1971 she was absent from school as was I; and on the following day ...Iain, Anne, Fiona, Gail, Ruth, Esther and me all out talking... The Stair was what kept us all together and facilitated these natural and easy going friendships-and as each of us left The Stair most of us went our own way, only occasionally or by accident meeting up in the decades since. I probably haven't seen Gail since 1978.

I was reflecting on the upcoming end of the blog and how it might be used in a positive way. I'm in Edinburgh every few months in an average year-there's a host of well reviewed coffee and cake shops I want to visit-I thought-why not develop a cake trail-put out a general invite to former residents at The Stair and others who have featured saying, At Mimi's; (or Love Crumbs; Tea at 94; Cafe Blush; Patisserie Jacob; Falko's, etc.) on Saturday morning at 10.30 am and see who turns up! I know that after Fiona Blades; the two former Anne Hoffmanns and I met up, Paul Forbes said let him know the next time we're meeting up because he wants to come along too. Iain Hoffmann would be up for it, no doubt.

Who knows, it would be lovely to see Gail and others again!

There Is A Time For Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

I thought I'd give followers of The Stair a wee heads up that I intend to bring the Blog to an end on the 30 December, 2012. 

I feel there's a nice synchronisation to this. By then I'll have written about 75,000 words which I intend to marshal and edit slightly into a purely print version. When I've done this if anyone would like a copy please let me know and I'll be delighted to forward you a download.

I could continue well into the future in a similar vein, but I've always been a big fan of David Daiches lovely book Two Worlds set in Edinburgh in the 1920s and 1930s. It's approximately 70,000 words long and I think it's a good model.

I've still got much to write about so will have to prioritise what goes in and what stays out over the next three weeks or so. If there is anything that any reader would like to see featured or edited or mistakes rectified then please let me know.

Also is there anyone missing who really should be included? Of the themes covered are there any glaring gaps? My approach has been to do little vignettes whereby key themes have ebbed and flowed throughout the Blog-particularly work, life and play, with sub themes of class; economics; health and well-being; education; rights and wrongs; etc. as displayed through the quirks of the way we all behaved or situations we got ourselves into.

I'm concious for example that there has been little if anything on boy/girl romances and relationships; love and sex; also religion hasn't featured enough; politics has only been touched upon at the fringes; and similarly death too. I also feel I should have made an effort to meet up with others to get their stories-in particular the Hanlons-I did once arrive with some cakes on the doorstep of 6/7 and knocked on Hilda's door-Hilda being the very last remaining resident at The Stair-Hilda was out-I wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. There's a wonderful book called Akenfield by Ronnie Blythe which records the way of life of a small English village in Surrey which simply records the various members of the community's own stories. I'm very aware that this is a significant gap in the Blog. I had hoped otherwise thinking that others might have got in touch-again I haven't been proactive enough. If I'd been based in Edinburgh I might have tried harder; is it too late?

In the occasional comments exchanges I've mentioned that I've taken more of an instinctive approach rather than an intellectual one, whereby I've partly allowed it to almost take on a life of its own allowing it to go off in certain directions but always coming back to the core concept of life at The Stair. This has led to it being much more weighted toward others, but perhaps that has been because they featured more prominently in my life at The Stair. That said, individuals such as Michael; Colin; Alan; Gail; Esther; Les; the Sibbalds-remember them?-and even my sister, Anne, were all children who I played with and were important in my day to day life at The Stair.

One last thing, which Liz Blades suggested several months ago is a Where Are They Now column which would bring the Blog to a natural conclusion. I would need a little assistance on this-especially as I'm not on Facebook-so I may well be in touch with one or two of you!

Running Away To Join The Circus!

In our class at Hunters Tryst Primary School there was a girl called Audrey Milne. She came from a good and well meaning family who stayed at Oxgangs Farm Loan. Audrey had several older brothers and a younger brother. I think they may have had their ups and downs as a family-their father possibly died when Audrey was quite young, although I may be wrong on this.

What was impressive was the way the family made a community contribution. Audrey's mother, Mrs Milne, was the Akela of the local Cub Pack which I attended each week-was it the Edinburgh & Craiglockhart 113th-but no, I've just been told (21st November, 2016) by John McDonaugh that it was the 105th and even better John's discovered from the mists of time an absolute treasure of a serendipitous find, a photograph of our cub scout pack from March 1966.

Back Row: Extreme Left 'Akela' Mrs Milne; ?; Norman Stewart; Harry Rookyard; Graham Robb; John McDonaugh; ?; Terry Workman; Mrs Milne's son
Middle Row: Michael Hanlon; ?; Peter Hoffmann; Stephen Drysdale; ?; Stewart Martin; Geoff Hunter; ?
Front Row: ?; ?; John Ritchie; John Kay; John Pantling; ?; Alan Gray

I only ever made the heady height of Seconder of a pack-Norman Stewart however was a Sixer, which meant he headed up a small group of six boys; I was therefore only the assistant to the Sixer. Clearly he had leadership skills I could only dream of-or perhaps he just behaved a lot better than me.

The Cubs were great fun and a few of us from The Stair attended for several years including Michael Hanlon and Iain Hoffmann.

Like most children and young people who attend youth clubs, sports clubs etc you never really give any thought, consideration or appreciation that Mrs Milne was giving up a significant chunk of her valuable time, not just to run the Cubs, but also the training and planning and organisation required too-it's perhaps a bit late in the day to thank her.

Some of the Cubs had an armful of badges-I'm afraid the only one I ever achieved was the Collectors' Badge. Collecting stamps did it for me. Earning the badge was quite rigorous-I had to travel down to a lady's house at Craighlockhart to be interviewed and asked some tough, probing questions.

Whilst I never got above assistant manager level at the Cubs or did well with the badges, I fared a lot more successfully at Bob-A-Job week-ironically the Cub and Scout movement fared less well! There was a prize for the Cub who collected the most money-one lad was absolutely amazing-completely out in front of the rest of us. I can't recall how many names and jobs that each card held recording jobs done, contributions made and signatures, but it was more than twenty-therefore at least a pound should be raised.

Greenbank was always a fertile ground for me-I had reasoned that few of the Hunters Tryst Cub Pack would venture that far and the residents were quite well off. What I hadn't considered was that I had probably strayed into the territory of a Greenbank/Morningside Club and Scout troop.

Once a job had been completed we issued a sticker to the household who would thereafter place it in their window-we weren't supposed to call at a house which had received a previous visit by a Cub, however I tended to feign ignorance.

Anyway, covering Greenbank, I soon managed to complete a card. I proudly visited Mrs Milne to get a second card and enjoyed the praise which I received from her. I was doing well with the second card when the attraction of all those bobs grew too much for me-my blood sugars must have been too low, well that's my excuse! Anyway, I'm ashamed to say I spent a few bob and came up with a cock and bull story about losing the second card.

I had an opportunity to make amends, but I'm afraid Billy Smart got in the way. I had managed to win the Edinburgh Cubs 100 yards Championships for our troop-the event was held at Campbell Park, Colinton. I was thereafter selected to represent the Edinburgh team in the Scottish Cub Championships. However, my grandfather had received free tickets to see Billy Smart's Circus held at Murrayfield-it clashed with the other event. I let Mrs Milne down again and preferred to go the circus instead!

First and Last Times

In his wonderful Diaries, Alan Clark mentions the importance of first and last times by recognising, acknowledging and celebrating the occasion - going out with style.That's of course fine if you know it's going to be your last time - more often than not one is unaware or so in the moment, there is an inability to step back from the experience and recognise it as such. Like most of the other boys at Oxgangs, football was my sport - the beautiful game. I loved the games of football which we played endlessly and gave my all in every match. A lot of the time I played up in The Field - often three games of an evening - with the big boys; then the bigger boys; and then with boys my own age.

'Don't Know How The Trees Survived!'

Back Field Oxgangs Road North

At six o'clock there was the big match which mainly featured boys who were around four or five years older than me. I was the only boy of my age who played in these games. As mentioned in an earlier vignette, Andy Allan (Captain Fantastic) picked one team whilst Richard Kennedy (Merc) captained the other team.

Some fine players featured in these games at Oxgangs who thereafter went on to play professionally for the likes of Hearts, including Eric Carruthers. However, one player was metaphorically, if not literally, head and shoulders above the rest. He was a class apart. His name was Titch Macmillan. He was a quite brilliant player. He was skilful as Messi. I loved watching him on the ball. He was a supreme artist, poetry in motion. His younger brother, Rab McMillan, who was a couple of years older than me, wasn't that far behind Tich.

Tich didn't make it to the same high level as Eric Carruthers, probably because they thought him too small. He may have gone on to play in Australia at a semi-professional level. Some people thought he was perhaps too greedy on the ball - there's a happy balance between being an individualist and doing the right thing by the team. Titch was the perfect size for today's Barcelona team. Physically he was a doppelganger for Messi in size, skill and appearance. I never felt envious of Tich. Because he was four years older he was somebody who I could aspire to and try to match one day. Also, I took consolation that I could already out-run all the older boys.

When I played with the older boys it always lifted my game. I loved the challenge of playing with and against them and trying to take the ball past their defence or to show some vision with a nicely weighted pass. Playing with Andy as my captain facilitated this approach and gave me the confidence to try things and express myself. He complimented me when it worked and if on occasion it didn't quite come off, he didn't criticise me. It was the carrot rather than the stick approach to management - admirable and mature given that Andy would have been only around sixteen years old.

At the age of twelve I went to Boroughmuir Secondary School where there was no football, so instead I played rugby for the school. This pleased my father. From 1968, apart from occasionally playing for Michael Hanlon's teams in their matches against a Joe Rendall Select or a Kenny Taylor Select I gave up football altogether. I only resumed playing again in my forties and

fifties with colleagues at work and more recently with Atticus and d’Artagnan.

Looking back I should have stuck with the footie.

Postscript: I’m pleased to say that my youthful assessment of George Tich McMillan’s skills were not far off the mark as he went on to become a legend in Australian football, including scoring against Manchester United in a friendly and the winning goal in a sensational victory by Western Australia against Glasgow Rangers in 1975.