Dr Who - An Unearthly Child

"When I am weak, then am I strong."—2 Corinthians 12:10.

Regular followers of the blog will know how much the author enjoys (apparent) paradoxes. Indeed, if you were into deconstruction, if there were such a thing as a format or style to these vignettes, some of them begin with a paradox and end with a cliché, which was often the great Bernard Levin's approach to his Sunday Times articles.

On 22 November, 2012, I posted the blog, Life and Death in Oxgangs and Dallas. It recorded my memory as an eight year old of the assassination of President Kennedy; on the following day, the 23 November, 1963, the first episode of Dr Who was televised.

I missed the first episode, but Norman Noggin Stewart (6/3 Oxgangs Avenue) mentioned it to me.

Many kids at Hunters Tryst Primary School enthused about the programme, particularly about how thrilling and scary it was. 

Although the first episode was shown on a Saturday tea-time on this date, 55 years ago today, most unusually, it was then repeated the following week, immediately before the second episode was aired.

This wasn't to cater for viewers such as myself who had missed it but because there had been some technical hitches with the first screening the previous week.

Thus, on the following Saturday, I arrived back home in the early, but dark evening straight from a Hearts match against Dundee at Tynecastle . And like millions of others I was captivated by the new series. 

In the first episode, The Unearthly Child, Ian and Barbara discover the Doctor and of course the Tardis in 1960s London. Thereafter, we were whisked off to the Stone Age. 

I always used to gulp each time they landed on a new planet and opened the Tardis’ door and hesitantly stepped out. Silently, I said to myself 'Don’t do it!  Don't go out there - stay within the comfort, safety and security of the Tardis.' Or, as Tolkien puts it more eloquently in The Lord of the Rings: 'It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to.'

It became even scarier when the Daleks appeared and my brother, Iain and I often hid behind the sofa. 

We would be watching the programme so intently, mouths agape that we wouldn't notice that our father had crept up behind us. Living up to his Germanic last name he indulged in some Schadenfreude as he expertly chose the perfect moment to suddenly grip one of our shoulders and bellow 'WHOA!' We'd leap into the air terrified.

So how could being weak, help make us strong? 

Well, perhaps at a deeper level, when the Doctor and his companions opened the Tardis’ door and stepped out on a new adventure, for some of us it was part of the socialisation process. 

At a subconscious level perhaps we realised that in life in order to grow and mature and take our places in the world, you can only do so by taking that brave step into the unknown - to become an earthly child, rather than an unearthly child.

ps An even scarier thought - many of us thought William Hartnell looked ancient in 1963 - it's dawned on me I'm now actually eight years older than he was at the time - 63 years old to his 55 - oh for a time machine!

Iain; The Author; 'Noggin'; and Gavin, Summer 1961

Back in 2012 when I was writing the blog each day I occasionally searched in vain for this photie; serendipity-today whilst looking in an old box I stumbled across it by accident. I reckon it's from 51 years ago out the back of The Stair in the Hoffmanns' back garden which was always a sun-trap. Iain looks around three years old, whilst Norman Stewart and I look about five and about to start school at Hunters Tryst. Norman (6/3) and I were sometimes best friends, at least for a year or two and in the same class for seven years, where we had a certain rivalry in the top five in the class. Next door neighbour, Gavin (6/1), now Dr Gavin Swanson is far right and a year short of starting his distinguished academic career. 

Comment From Liz Blades On the Field In Winter

Liz,
Sorry, I hadn't realised there were further paras than I'd published so I've rectified publishing your comments in full below-pure chance/serendipity  that I stumbled upon the rest of your missive-makes me wonder if there are further comments out there that I missed.

I suspect you're most definitely the furthest travelled-I wonder what that says! I sometimes wonder what happened to Norman Stewart. Heather Swanson is in America-Florida, I think.

6/6 may be able to see the No 16 bus, but not 6/4 or 6/2. 

That was a brave step you took going to the States-life changing. Departures are strange things and we often handle them awkwardly, poorly or not recognising the moment for its full worth. I tried to bring this theme out in the blog For Whom The Bell Tolls. The Scottish/Australian folk singer Eric Bogle captures this in his performance (preface/song) Leaving Nancy-if you're not familiar with it check it out. 

I wasn't going to mention the topic again and it's not a competition (!), but since I'm responding-I'd met up with my mother and sister in Edinburgh on Saturday and whilst acknowledging everything you said on our fathers, we felt a key difference for us was the fear factor which was always there for us because KH was such a very intimidating individual. Anyway-don't feel obliged to respond-we've probably done that one to death!

I've enjoyed our wee chats across the globe-it would be good to keep in touch.
Best.
Peter
x

Hi Peter, 

I think I remember those winters and the sledding more so than the summer. Maybe because the snow made things seem pristine, new, and fresh. It made things sparkle - a pleasant change from the dull concrete jungle that was Oxgangs. 

I remember the treacherous ice slides on the pavements and the hard packed snow on the field. It was exhilarating flying down the hill on a sled. I remember using a light low sled, basically a flat 'bed' to lie or sit on with 2 short wooden runners attached. I don't think this was the sled Mr Hogg made, which I don't remember, but thinking back it seemed similarly home-made.

Anyway I was about 9 or 10 yrs and I wanted to emulate the older lads who ran with the sled and launched themselves to lie on it in motion. I unfortunately allowed the rope to trail under the sled as I ran forwards and trod on it just as I launched myself. Of course the sled stopped sharply as I continued going! As you said the hard packed snow was iron hard and my face bore the brunt, severely damaging my front teeth and taking off a layer of skin (ice burn). It was so cold I didn't feel much and felt more foolish than anything but the next day my face was a mess!I think I had a dermabrasion long before we knew what that was!

As for the trees, my how they have grown. I remember those spindly saplings which seemed to forever require propping up. But they made it to maturity forming a copse there on the hill. I wonder if we would still be able to see the No 16 bus coming down the hill?!

On an earlier topic you mentioned leaving Oxgangs in 1972 which I did also although I think it was earlier in the year. I may have been the first to go. I moved into a share house, a beautiful ground floor garden flat in the new town. I worked in Charlotte Square and so I used to walk to and from work, and later that year I went to Philadelphia in the US to work as a 'mother's help'. Now in Australia since 1988, I wonder if I am the former resident now most removed geographically from the stair? Liz Blades

The Field In Winter and the Last of the Mohicans

I've alluded to The Field on several occasions over the months.

It served all the kids at The Stair well as a playground over the four seasons of the year.

And although we at the four stairs at 2, 4, 6 and 8 Oxgangs Avenue saw it as our personal fiefdom it actually also represented a neutral point in the community which drew in others from Oxgangs Street and also across Oxgangs Road North including children and teenagers from Oxgangs Farm Drive.

In the main this was to play football - occasionally someone would fly a kite and for one summer we actually played some cricket!

This was courtesy of Norman Stewart who had received the cricket set from his grandparents for a birthday.

It was actually good fun.

For Norman it was a game he could play and compete on a level playing ground so to speak as he didn't play much football.

These were all mainly boys orientated, but the one game which was gender neutral and all the better for it was the games of rounders that both girls and boys participated in. Rounders were great fun and normally no team was in for too long which kept the interest going.

From around 1966 onwards the annual bonfires that used to be held in the wee field directly out the back of The Stair were deemed by the Fire Brigade and Edinburgh Corporation as being far too close to us all as it indeed they were; certainly the Blades, the Hoggs and the Hoffmanns didn't need a fire on bonfire night such was the heat that emanated toward the Stair. At least the Swansons, the Stewarts and the Smiths were on the wrong or should that be the right side of the bonfire; whereas the Duffys and the Hanlons were a bit safer on the top landing.

Where the field really came alive however was when the snows of winter came. It was then that The Field truly came into its own.

The ground may have been frozen hard as iron and to all extents dead, but it was alive with children and young people both girls and boys.

What a sight it was to behold - a carpet of white adorned with well wrapped up stick like figures, some quite colourful, but more likely inside the dark blue nylon anoraks or duffel coats that many of us wore at that time, starkly contrasted against the landscape, black on white, the scenario was straight out of a Lowrie painting.

And then when dusk came and the night fell and the street-lights on Oxgangs Road North slowly began to flicker on and the dancing headlamps of the cars and buses carrying the workers home, watchers by the threshold could catch happy flitting figures dancing across the white landscape of The Field.

Dozens of sledges of different sizes would come down the hill.

The more adventurous ones had polished up the runners so that the sledge flew; others were much more apprehensive and went down with their feet hanging over either side. The more daring would aim to both extend the length of the run by skilfully manoeuvring through the gap in the fence and fly into the drying green; some were even full hardy enough to fly over the steps too coming down to rest adjacent to our back garden at 6/2!

As mentioned on a profile of Douglas Blades the Blades family enjoyed using the big sledge that Mr George Hogg had built; and Norman Stewart had the classiest sledge in the district The Flying Dutchman.

Gavin and Heather Swanson had sledges but were quite conservative on the slope.

The Ramage twins, Les and Derek from 4/3 had nice light sledges.

I don't recall the Hanlons having sledges.

The Hoffmanns didn't have sledges, although Iain may have used an old beer tray that our father, Mr Ken Hoffmann possibly brought home from a pub, but essentially we never owned a sledge so we became boarders instead - not always popular with many sledgers because we would await for a passing sledge to come by and then try to run alongside and dive on board it; those individuals who were lying on their stomach on the sledge were particularly prone to being dived upon or sat upon.

Of course we were not always successful and often ended up missing the sledge or falling off or indeed bringing the owner off too - still great fun ending up rolling in the snow!

We'd play outside for hours until we became too cold, too wet or we were called in and then we'd head for home chittering as our mothers pulled off our wet clothes that had stuck to our backs and we'd hop around as we encouraged others to pull off our Wellington boots. The drying cupboard in the sitting room would be chock-full of clothes and our Wellington boots would be lined up like soldiers in front of the coal fire to dry out

Just before coming in we'd have made sure we'd taken part in one of the other fun rituals of playing at The Field - throwing snowballs at the slow moving vehicles going up the gauntlet of Oxgangs Road North.

We mainly chose the buses as they were large slow moving targets with as many as a dozen of us lined up and at a given call an array of snowballs would be fired at the bus windows.

It must have pissed the passengers off no end - it was like medieval warfare in the dark midwinter as many as twenty snowballs flew through the air and bombarded and thudded against the windows of the bus.

Once home and inside and later into the evening I would occasionally glance out from our living room window and look out to The Field. 

It had become quieter; numbers had dwindled as children made their weary way home, until there might be only a solitary figure left, sledging downhill; of a sudden the last sledge run would take place and The Field became eerily silent.

Today The Field remains in winter, but winter throughout the spring, summer and autumn seasons of the year too. 

The only figures there are the trees which were planted many decades ago and somehow thrived and of course the ghosts of the Hanlons; the Duffys; the Blades'; the Hoggs; Norman Stewart; the Swansons; and the Hoffmanns and all the hundreds of other children from all those decades ago. 

I wonder what child was the very last sledger?

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!

Hillend and 'Jean Claude-Killy'

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

Hillend Ski Slope in the shadow of the Pentland Hills

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

6/3 The Stewarts and The Watcher by the Threshold

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

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

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

David Lines from the same school photograph above.

Peter Hoffmann from same school photograph.

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

Anstruther (Undiscovered Scotland)

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

Brian Rennie from same school photograph above.

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

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

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

This was extraordinary-beyond one's imagination!

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

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

Rupert Annual 1963

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

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

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

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

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

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

Noggin, King of the Nogs.

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

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

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

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

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

6/1 The Swansons

Iain Hoffmann; Peter Hoffmann; Norman Stewart; Gavin Swanson (Back garden, 6/2, circa 1961)

11

The Swansons, 6/1

The Swansons were a very pleasant family who lived opposite us (The Hoffmanns) on the ground floor. The family consisted of Dougal, Molly and their two children, Gavin and Heather. I liked them very much indeed, although Dougal was a bete noire to us children and we couldn't resist teasing him or annoying him with games of knock door run. Dougal was a very fine looking man. He was immaculately presented, always wearing a tie, even for gardening. He lived a very orderly and disciplined life. H breakfasted on eggs and bacon each morning-home at lunchtimes-and he had the best garden in the local area. He seemed to look down on us, literally and metaphorically. I think he worked for many years at a branch of the high class grocer’s, Coopers, at Comiston Road, Morningside. When it eventually closed he worked at Brown Brothers Engineering, possibly as a stock-keeper. He was an intelligent man who worked in positions below his ability.

My abiding memory of Molly is a more recent one from the late 1980s. Each day I travelled to work across the Braid Hills to Midlothian. I recall seeing Molly going to work at the Royal Bank of Scotland at Liberton Brae. She looked so happy and she was such a handsome woman.

Along with The Hoggs at 6/4, The Swansons were perhaps the most stable family unit at The Stair. Dougal and Molly Swanson took the raising of their children more seriously than any other of the eight families. This could be seen in the way that Gavin and Heather were raised in a positive culture of safety, stimulation, guidance, boundaries and education and also the way they were presented socially-they were always very neat, tidy and clean. 

Colinton Mains Parish Church (Peter Hoffmann 31/08/2012)

Each Sunday they attended the rather lovely local Church of Scotland, Colinton Mains Parish Church. I don't think they were big on religion at all, but it was another aspect of the socialisation process at work and it distanced them slightly from the rest of us, as no-one else attended that church, apart from my father intermittently. 

Whilst the rest of the children at The Stair eagerly consumed our comics, Gavin used to get the Look and Learn magazine although Heather got either Robin or the Bimbo.

Socially, they didn't really integrate much with the other families. It wasn't that they were disliked because in many ways they were immaculate neighbours. Gavin wasn't allowed to run free the way the rest of the boys were. Only on very rare occasions did he come out to play. In the photograph of him with Norman Stewart (6/3), my brother Iain and me which was taken in our back garden. In he’s certainly the best looking of the four boys. 

One rare summer I recall him being allowed out to play. He joined me sitting on the back of my guider (bogie) while I steered it down the hill of the road opposite, Oxgangs Place. It was good fun and as there were few cars back then, not too dangerous. However, when Molly got wind of this, it was immediately stopped and Gavin was back inside for the rest of the summer. I seemed to be the only boy he was allowed to play with, but as I had a poor reputation that didn't continue for long.

Alison Blades; Heather Swanson; Eilleen Hogg

Ruth Blades; and Anne Hoffmann

Heather meanwhile seemed to be allowed slightly more freedom and she mixed a little with my sister, Anne and one or two others; she struck me as being slightly more rebellious than Gavin. Also, she attended the local secondary school, Firhill, whilst Gavin, like me and several of the Blades attended Boroughmuir Secondary School.

The summer holidays would have been the obvious time to have mixed with other children, but I think their granny, who lived at Colinton Mains, often looked after them. This was slightly restrictive, however, we might play with them briefly in the early morning before they left to go and join her. They were close to their granny and this seemed to be the dominant social relations which they enjoyed as a family, apart from a weekly visit from a most lovely lady called Nettie, who lived in posh Morningside. She was a gem and suffered a great tragedy when her only child, Pamela died in her early teens. I recall Pam playing with us occasionally. Nettie may still be alive and if so, will be a very old and noble lady. I once thought I saw her standing waiting for a bus at Morningside and regret that I didn't introduce myself.

The Swansons were possibly closer to us than the other families at The Stair. My mother, Anne was close to Molly, who was very supportive when we had the ups and downs caused by my father. They exchanged Christmas presents each year-my mother always gave Gavin and Heather a tin of Woolworths’ toffees. We got some imaginative presents from Molly. I once recall taking what I thought was a book from my Christmas stocking, but when I opened it up there were six or seven tubes of fruit sweets arranged horizontally inside. Molly always checked on my sister Anne, brother Iain and me if my mother was out dancing at The Plaza, Morningside on a Friday evening.

I know that my mother Anne and her second husband, John Duncan attended Heather's wedding. Heather became a nurse and went to live in Florida, America. Gavin studied at Edinburgh University and then at either Cambridge or Oxford University-I believe he’s now an editor at the Cambridge Press. Along with his own very hard work Dr Gavin Swanson's successes are partly due to his mum and dad's approach to parenting and they must have been very proud of him. 

Postscript: I came across this article last year about Gavin-I hope he's keeping well. 

Medical student saves rower's life after heart attack

Jennie Baker

A medical student has told how he raced to save the life of a rower who had suffered a heart attack.

Dr Gavin Swanson, a Cantabrigian rower, suffered a cardiac arrest at Baits Bite Lock during a major rowing competition on the River Cam.

Several rowers helped him before emergency services arrived – including a graduate medical student who is also a rowing coach.

The January 22 incident has led to a review of rowing safety by authorities.

Dr Swanson, 53, who was discharged from Addenbrooke’s earlier this month, said: “I’m completely lucky and fortunate that there were people around to do that.”

Dominic Silk, 37, a graduate medical student and rowing coach, ran to Dr Swanson and gave him cardiopulmonary resuscitation (CPR), helped by others, until the ambulance arrived to resuscitate him.

Mr Silk said: “I’m very lucky I have been trained to do it, I have done it lots of times on a dummy.”

He added: “I think everyone could do it.

“I think everyone should do it, frankly, I think it’s a no-brainer. It’s a great skill to have.”