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.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pamela Baird

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

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

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

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

The Baird family with Stuart and Angela at the front

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

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

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

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

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

Postscript

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

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

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

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

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

Oxgangs - A Pastime From Time Past Shell-shocked - Old Sandy's Story

Painting by Ed Newman

Exchanging memories and stories can be quite revelatory. 

Andrew Baird son of the founder of Baird's Bookshop & Newsagent

When Fiona Blades (6/6 Oxgangs Avenue) and I met at Starbucks, South Gyle, Edinburgh back on 23 July, 2012, we were talking about days forty years previously when we did newspaper rounds for Baird’s Newsagents at 13-15 Morningside Drive. 

I asked Fiona if she remembered old Sandy. 

Sandy was a small, wizened old man. 

No matter the weather or the season of the year he always dressed in an old overcoat and cap. 

He was toothless and I could never quite understand what he was saying, however Fiona and Pamela Baird (who ran the newsagent’s) could. 

Sandy was always punctilious; probably getting the first early morning number 41 bus down from Greenlea Old Folks Home, Greenbank to the shop where he collected a bundle of newspapers to thereafter distribute to his fellow residents at Greenlea. 

Pamela Baird who ran Baird's Newsagents between 1966 and 1972

In return for doing this I think Pamela provided him with his bus fares and tobacco. 

Sandy also came down to the shop in the afternoon to collect copies of the Edinburgh Evening News and deliver them to the home too. 

Looking back it probably provided a welcome structure to his day - a diversion; it got him out and it would have been good for his self-esteem too as he would have felt he was being useful and making a contribution, something that is important to us all, young or old.

Fiona Blades 6/6 Oxgangs Avenue

Peter Hoffmann 6/2 Oxgangs Avenue

On dark winter mornings Fiona and I would sometimes stand in the shop doorway with Sandy whilst he awaited the number 41 bus for its return journey up Morningside Drive. 

Old Sandy always had a cigarette in his hand, but it was very difficult for him to smoke it because his hand shook so much. 

We would try to converse with him - being young and lacking in empathy we would probably exchange the odd, knowing glances at each other at this poor figure who shook quite violently. We weren’t nasty at all, but we were young and of course couldn't envisage ever being infirm ourselves. 

Anyway, over coffee, Fiona said to me ‘Peter, do you know why Sandy shook so violently?’ 

I said ‘No.’ 

‘Well, it was shell-shock from the First World War.’

Postscript from Fraz Jacobs, 8th August, 2018:

'I think Fiona may have been mistaken about why Sandy shook. 

I worked in Greenlea when I was a student in the 1970's during the summer holidays. 

I remember Sandy as he was in Dalgetty which was the name of the section of Greenlea he lived in. 

I remember Sandy going to collect newspapers in the morning and the Evening News in the late afternoon. 

However, Sandy did not have 'shell shock'. 

In his working life he had been a roofer. He had an accident and fell from a roof which had caused damage neurologically as he had hit his head. This was exasperated by him developing Parkinson's disease a few years later. 

I know this from being told his background from one of the nurses who handed out the medication to residents. Sandy was on medication for Parkinson's disease - I had to give him his medication after receiving it from the nurse, so I think Fiona was mistaken. 

One of the symptoms in late stage Parkinson's was difficulty in speech. Sandy found it difficult speaking but you got used to working out over time what he was saying. 

We used to keep his meal at tea time aside because that was when he went down to Morningside to collect the Evening News'. The 41 bus stopped right outside Greenlea. 

If Baird's closed in 1972 after Pamela gave it up then either he collected the newspapers from who ever took it over or another newsagent as I worked at Greenlea as a student in the holidays from 1976 for the next few years.'