Exoticism in Oxgangs ?

Did Oxgangs do exoticism in the 1960s?

During the school summer holidays when we were quite young, a nice outing was to the lovely Braidburn Valley for a small picnic. These family outings would tend to only include mums and children as the dads would be out at work.

We would set off eagerly, fresh as daisies and keen as mustard. 

My sister, Anne, would be in a push-chair - very handy for transporting a blanket and picnic. 

For those families such as us who lived at the four Stairs it was a long walk, because we were going from one end of Oxgangs Avenue to the other and from there onward through Braidburn Valley to the far end - a fair old distance. However, it was slightly downhill and as the Gaelic saying goes We had the sun on our face and the wind (just a zephyr) at our back.

When we turned into Braidburn Valley the first house on the left had a large back garden that ran adjacent to the cinder path into the valley.

Back Garden of First House Greenbank (Peter Hoffmann)

A great highlight for all the children was the doo'cot in the back garden. If we were lucky we might see the exotic, white doves. For young children it was quite magical to see the birds.

(Photograph by Rustythespian)

Outdoor Theatre Performance at Braid Burn Valley (Photograph by Mr W. R. Smith)

We always took our picnic deep into the valley toward the far end at the open air theatre which had been created just after the Second World War for outdoor performances at early Edinburgh Festivals. 

This was a sylvan little spot.

The water in the burn was shallow, still and clear. 

We would go barefoot in the burn and with our little nets fish for minnows and sticklebacks. The nets had been bought at the start of the school summer holidays, from T. F. Francis' drysalters shop at 29 Oxgangs Crescent shopping precinct.

(Outdoor Theatre Braid Burn Valley, Peter Hoffmann)

We would always climb to the top of the steep slope and roll down the grass steps (outdoor seating for the theatre). This was always great fun. All the while, mums would chat contentedly with other mothers or read the Woman's Own or a novel all the while knowing the children were safe and happy.

These picnics were simple little affairs. And then before we knew it, it would be time to head back home to The Stair. 

This was the hard part; not just because it signalled the end of the picnic and the afternoon but because with our little legs it was a very long walk home. 

We were at the far end of the valley; the cinder path was long and wynding and before we left the park we had to negotiate a slight uphill incline out of Braidburn Valley. However, at least there was the doo'cot to look at. And then there was the challenge of walking all the way along Oxgangs Avenue - a long weary walk in to the west. The sun was in our faces making us too hot and the breeze was against us. We were all a little weary from being on the go all afternoon and were all looking forward to getting home and our tea.

(Braid Burn Valley - The Long Walk Home to The Stair, Peter Hoffmann)

The smaller children might be lucky to get a collie-back ride or to find a spot on the push-chair. It was tough on the mums; being the eldest I never got a ride back to The Stair. There would be regular moans from some of the kids, I'm tired Mum. And then it would be over. Home was in sight. It was grand to get home and back to The Stair, pooped, but content; tired, but happy.

(Approaching the border line where two communities, Greenbank and Oxgangs (almost) meet, Peter Hoffmann)

And the answer to the question is that no, there wasn't exoticism in Oxgangs.

Instead it was to be found at Greenbank. It was where two worlds met. The doo'cot served as a metaphor and perhaps summed up the difference between two communities at the border-line; the gap between the working class, council owned, grey housing schemes of Oxgangs and the middle class, privately owned bungalows and villas of the leafy suburbs of Greenbank. 

Even the two names seem to jar against one another - the tougher sounding Oxgangs against the soothing image of Greenbank

Jimmy's Green Van

Was it a transaction or was it a relationship?

Jimmy's Green Van from 'An Act of Kindness' (Peter Hoffmann)

Another of the great characters who visited and sold their wares at The Stair was Jimmy's Green Van.

It was a mobile grocery van which had been converted from an old single decker bus, with its side windows done away with, replaced with panels and painted green. It visited Oxgangs at least twice a week. Jimmy's Green Van was an institution.

According to local gossip it was alleged that Jimmy would visit one of the mothers at 4 Oxgangs Avenue, who shall remain nameless, for 'a cup of tea...!'. When I was a very wee boy I must have been aware that Jimmy's Green Van had been left temporarily vacated.

Inside, the van was a colourful Aladdin's Cave - a positive cornucopia of delight, particularly the confectionery section.

Photograph by George Field.

Anyway, whilst Jimmy was away servicing one of his customer's, on one occasion, I nipped over the counter at the back of the old van and helped myself to a box of Cadbury's chocolate bars which I thereafter distributed to all the kids in The Stair. Neither the kids nor Jimmy were accustomed to such largesse.

Well, poor Jimmy didn't know whether he was coming or going. Wringing his hands he informed my mother, but instead of getting some expected sympathy, I believe he instead got very short shrift, along the lines of, 'well what do you expect, leaving your van open and all these chocolate bars on display tempting a wee lad'.

And the answer to the question? Well, I guess you could say it was both a relationship and a transaction!

Look out for Jimmy's Revenge! in a future episode.

The Wednesday Profile #6 Jock the Fishman

A regular flow of pedlars, vendors and salesmen visited our Stair (6 Oxgangs Avenue) each week. One of the real characters was ‘Jock the Fishman.’  He may have been part of the family of the R. & Sons Hunnam, Fishmongers, 30 Comiston Road.  

Jock used to announce his presence with a loud two second blast of his whistle and the cry of 'fish!'

We thought Jock seemed quite old – probably younger than I am today; he looked like a character straight out of Stevenson - an old sea-dog, but perhaps he had never left dry land?

He was always dressed in a big roll neck jersey and a leather waistcoat.

I think he looked a little bit like Sid James. Underneath his flat cap was a weather beaten and lined face - he had a kindly look and a kindly nature. He was friendly and good with his customers and very fond of the children who tagged along with their mums - I suppose it also helped make him the good salesman that he was.

One very clever approach which he deployed was to hand out old comics free to his customers' children.

I'm not sure where he got his stock from - I think he encouraged his customers to hand in any old comics which they were finished with - almost an exchange re-distribution system.

Although a short visitation, it was always an interesting interlude to go to the back of his old red Austin van and see the fish and scales and of course the comics inside; there would be a bit of repartee and he might twist your ear.

Looking back he must have made a reasonable living; I've never thought about it until now, but the one omission from the three shopping precincts at Oxgangs Broadway; the Crescent; and Colinton Mains and indeed also the Store (St Cuthbert's Cooperative) at Oxgangs Road North was a fish shop. Indeed the only rival business, which in reality wasn't, because it was just too far away, was the Newhaven Fishwife, who sold her wares at the corner of Riselaw Crescent to her customers at Buckstone, Greenbank, Comiston, Morningside and the Braids.

Mrs Betty Millar, the Buckstane Fish-Wife (Photograph by Mr W R Smith)

The Generation Game

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

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

Dominion Cinema circa 1972

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Airfix, Cellophane and a Ben-Mackenzie!

When do you know you've really made it as a businessman? In the days leading up to the start of school in August after the school summer holidays Iain and I, like the Hanlons and dozens of other little boys would be taken up the hill to Ben Mackenzie's to get our hair cut to look smart for our return to school for the start of another school year. Despite some of the images produced over the years by artists I enjoyed the whole experience.

Ben's shop was located at the back of the Oxgangs Broadway shops on the south facing side. It was the furthest away shop from The Stair. Ben was a great advert for his business-he was neat, immaculate and dapper, with brylcreamed grey hair and a little moustache-he was a walking advertisement for his profession.

We usually had to sit in a queue in his shop but there were always decent comics to sit and read. Also older men would 'pull your leg' whilst chatting up the mothers-it was my mother who usually always took us along. When the great moment arrived to have your hair cut, because we were small we had to sit on this little cross bench which was laid across the arm rests of the barber's chair which I thought was pretty cool.

Ben was never this bad, but the barber bears more than a passing resemblance to Ben!

Ben would set to work and the haircut was always finished off with some 'jungle juice' which he plastered one's hair down with-as I had wavy hair I liked this and regretted it never stayed that way for long.

We were never allowed number ones which the Hanlons got. The only way we ever got a number one was when Iain and I gave ourselves haircuts at home one day when my mother was out at work!

Anyway, when you returned to school, the opening remarks or soubriquet from your pals was, 'Aye Peter, ah see you've had a Ben Mackenzie!'

When you're name becomes a trademark, that's when you've really made it in business!

Pop Goes The Weasel!

Why are some of us so scared of the unknown?

Yesterday's tall tale about the ferret reminded me of a real carnivore who resided at Oxgangs-honest guv!

Behind number 2 block of flats there were a couple of steps which led up to the back field; located there was a pipe. We were quite young at the time when a rumour began to circulate around the four blocks about a small creature that could be seen there.  I ventured out with a few pals to see if it might appear-it was too scary to go alone. We waited quietly and sure enough after ten minutes a little head popped out of the pipe; then the whole body emerged; and then it stood up vertically on its back legs-it was a weasel-well, we all screamed in terror and took to our heels in fright and ran all the way back to The Stair-we didn't look round; if we had we would probably  have seen the weasel doing exactly the same thing!

I guess it's a survival instinct-fight, fright or flight? I used to find the last one the most attractive if there was a choice!

Tall Tales, No 2

Boroughmuir Secondary School (Peter Hoffmann)

On Tuesday, 8th May, 1971, at Boroughmuir School a class mate called Andy Downie walked past me and said 'Peter, I see you've a letter published in the Hornet this week.' Coincidentally, Ken Buchanan, the Edinburgh born and based world lightweight champion was on the front cover.

I could hardly contain my excitement - I got home to read the story in the letters page, The Hornet's Nest, and yes there it was - my name in print although spelt wrongly.  I received a ten shilling postal order for the story - excellent in its way, but ultimately I was disappointed because I wanted to win the top prize, a Raleigh bicycle. In retrospect justice was done, because the story was a porky - although my father had at least forty jobs in his working life, he'd never been employed as an electrician!

Footnote-Ken Buchanan was a major Edinburgh sports hero-as a young teenager I loved watching his fights around 1971-1972. A few years later in 1976 I took part in a Superstars type event at Perth with him and I think the rugby internationalists Andy Irvine and Bruce Hay were there too-my memory is a little hazy, but I think we were all driven to Perth in the back of an old Roll-Royce car.

Rolls-Royce, Morningside (Photograph Peter Hoffmann)

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.