In Remembrance

With Remembrance Sunday fast approaching and in its centenary year (1918-2018) I thought I might post this article by David McLean from earlier in the year.

 Family pays respects to German pilot killed in historic Pentlands plane crash Klaus Forster, 80 (third from the right) and four generations of his family from Germany attended the memorial site at Hare Hill, Pentlands where his father, a Luftwaffe bomber pilot, died when his aircraft crashed in August 1943.

The family of a Luftwaffe pilot killed when his plane crashed in Scotland 75 years ago have visited Scotland to pay their respects to him.

Klaus Förster, 80, the late airman’s son, along with four generations of the family, travelled from Germany to the crash site memorial at Hare Hill in the Pentlands near Edinburgh.

Photograph, Gary Nelson

On the evening of 24 March 1943, a four-man crew including Oberstleutnant Fritz Förster embarked on a mission to bomb Leith Docks aimed at disrupting wartime naval traffic in and out of the busy port.

Their Junker JU 88 left an airstrip near Paris and travelled up the Dutch North Sea coast before turning north-west towards the Firth of Forth. On their approach, however, the crew failed to locate their target and decided to jettison their incendiary payload across farmland outside Edinburgh.

But as they made their way south across the Pentlands, their plane struggled to clear the summit of Hare Hill and crashed into the hillside.

Mr Förster and the other three crew were killed and the wreckage was scattered over a half-mile radius.

Photograph, Neil Daniel

After the airmen were laid to rest in 1964, the location of the crash site faded from public knowledge. But in the late 1990s aircraft enthusiast Kenny Walker became fascinated by the story and set about trying to find the crash site.

Mr Walker said: “I’d read about the crash and knew a small fragment had been found on the hill. I’d searched one side of the hill, but grew fed up of not finding anything. “I noticed that the whole hill was covered in heather except for one area of grass. I went back with the metal detector and ‘bingo’.”

Having discovered the crash site, Mr Walker felt the crew deserved to be suitably remembered and worked towards funding a memorial. “The memorial was erected in the latter half of 1999,” he said. “It’s just a wooden post with a small plaque, so it was very easy to erect.”

He said people questioned whether there should be a memorial to Nazi airmen. However, he said: “I felt they should be remembered as human beings.”

Photograph, Neil Daniel

News of the memorial made its way to the Försters in Germany and the airman’s granddaughter Birgit announced that members of the family would like to attend the memorial’s unveiling. Mr Walker said: “Ten of them made it, including Fritz’s son Klaus with his wife and their two daughters.”

A Christmas card last year from Klaus Förster’s grandson Max Quass informed Kenny that the family were returning to Scotland on holiday and wanted to re-visit the memorial. He added: “There was a real feeling of reflection and remembrance. Klaus genuinely appreciates what has been done, not just for his father but for the other three men too. “If you strip away the horror and nastiness of the war, you realise that four men died at this spot. That’s the important thing we need to remember.”

Postscript

There are various photographs on the link below;

http://www.aircrashsites-scotland.co.uk/junkers-ju88_hare-hill.htm

David McLean's article and with over 40 comments may be found at the link below:

https://www.scotsman.com/news/family-pays-respects-to-german-pilot-killed-in-historic-pentlands-plane-crash-1-4658299?fbclid=IwAR3LFwyQZAzZ09IskLT2zCXmdJIfysEXJA52sg-oUlH-wB6QecSr0f4hGcY

Veitch the Coalman

The Coalman 

Throughout the 1960s the source of heating and hot water in each house in The Stair was the small open fire in the sitting room.

On late autumn tea times and cold winter nights we would all gather around the coal fire.

It was at the fireplace that we would dry our sodden socks 'n wellies after playing out in the snow or from getting wet jumping the burn.

Many's the tea-time when Gaga (grandfather) dropped by most week days for a cuppa and to slip us some pocket money or on Tuesdays a box of fruit and veg.

There was more than one coal-man who came to The Stair but our coal-man was Veitch.

He used to come to the house every Friday lunchtime.

Because I skived off school so regularly on many occasions in later years it would be me who hosted the visit.

It was either Alex Veitch and/or the second man on the lorry, who may have been his brother - certainly there was been a Veitch Brothers Transport business at Loanhead for many years.

I assume they used to get their coal from Monktonhall Colliery?

In the quieter summer months I wonder if they did other types of transport to maintain an income, although I think some families may have boxed clever buying in some coal over the summer months to stock up for the winter. And of course the coal fire was also the main source of hot water for the household other than the small boiler which we had in the kitchen.

I always found the 'coal-man' gruff and unrecognisable under their sooty faces; although you would have thought that after years of getting deliveries there would be a relationship there, but for me it was only ever a transaction.

We used to get a bag of coal and a bag of something called chirles - I haven't been able to track that word down since, but basically chirles were very small pieces of coal - the scrag ends; I suspect they were also slightly cheaper too and they were better for getting the fire going before larger lumps could be put on to the glowing fire later.

Under the guise of the cap, jacket and sooty face I wouldn't have recognised Alex from Adam, but our mother knew and liked Alex Veitch.

Plaza, Morningside Road, Edinburgh

She said he used to scrub up well when she saw him at the dancing at the Plaza at Morningside.

She also spoke of his kindness too. On occasions when we had run out of money and couldn't buy coal in the winter months saying 'Oh! sorry, but we don't require any coal this week' he would have a look at the empty coal bunker and put in a free bag of coal - perhaps influenced by three children in the household.

In later years I may even have come across him when I worked in Midlothian where the local council used to help out with the Loanhead Gala Day.

Whit, nae Sunday Post!

How many families didn't read The Sunday Post in the 1960s?

For many years we didn't buy a copy of The Sunday Post, but read my grandfather's copy on our weekly family visits.

As children in the early 1960s it was mainly the Fun Section that we read.

This was the double spread on either side of the page. The Broons were the main feature on one side, and Oor Wullie on the other. If Gaga (grandfather) was reading the newspaper sometimes he would just remove the Fun Section for us

The Broons and Oor Wullie

The Broons were good, but wee Wee Wullie probably just shaded it.

There were also other features which I enjoyed - some jokes, puzzles and for many years, Nero and Zero, two Roman guards who were supposed to look after Caesar; there was also Nosey Parker.

This Sunday ritual with Family Favourites and Jean Metcalfe and Cliff Michelmore on the radio in the background was always a very relaxing and a key part of these Sundays mornings at our grandparents home at Durham Road, Portobello before the Sunday roast dinner was served up .

As we grew older in the late 1960s we began to alternate our Sunday visits and so like millions of others, we at 6/2 Oxgangs Avenue started to buy our own copy of The Post. 

Gradually, I progressed  from just reading the Fun Section to the sports pages and then regular columns such as The Hon Man. His adventures could be quite interesting, particularly if the editor had perhaps sent him away to live on a pound a day or to tour around the Highlands camping and of course report back weekly, in a humorous vein.

d'Artagnan and Stopwatch Racing at Stockbridge, Edinburgh, January 2004

d'Artagnan reading Oor Wullie Stockbridge,
Edinburgh, January 2004 

d'Artagnan and Stopwatch Racing were brought up on the annuals. 

Reading the sauce bottle at the dinner table, leads on to Oor Wullie; The Four Marys; Alf Tupper; Peter Pan; Robin Hood; and then Holden Cauldfield; Atticus Finch; Pip; and Anna Karenina et al.

Given the dramatic reduction in newspaper buying The Sunday Post's circulation is still relatively high, however back in the 1960s I believe it had the highest reader penetration per head of the population of any newspaper in the world.

Memories of Comiston House by Edmund Raphael; Allan Dunnett and Kate Dubb

Comiston House by Edmund Raphael circa 1951

The under noted memories of Comiston House were posted a few years back between 2012 and 2014 on the EdinPhoto page; the vignettes make for interesting reading and are nicely illustrated with photographs of the period.

Edmund Raphael, Minehead, Somerset, England wrote: Comiston House was, for a good number of years, the Pentland Hills Hotel, which was found at the end of Camus Avenue, Fairmilehead. We used to holiday there from about 1950 and indeed I spent my college days there, 1959-1960.  I was one of the few male students who attended a hotel course at 17, Atholl Crescent, part of the Edinburgh College of Domestic Science."

The Garden

Comiston House garden by Edmund Raphael circa 1951

I took the two photographs with a Box Brownie which I borrowed from an aunt, when my mother and I began to holiday at the Pentland Hills Hotel. The photographs probably date from 1951, I'd guess with confidence. The garden view was what you saw from the house over the natural surface of the driveway.  There was a large lawn, then the rose garden beyond, which was carefully tended by one of the hotel residents, Mrs. Dobbin, who had been a professional botanist.

The Residents

The hotel was mainly for residents, spinsters and widows, although there was one very smart old chap, Bill Cadman, who was from Manchester and had begun life as a cleaner in theatres. He took an interest in dancing and eventually owned a number of Locarno ballrooms. His daughter married and moved to Edinburgh, so it was natural for him to follow, when his wife died. Mr. and Mrs Lyon were resident for a number of years, he being Principal of Edinburgh College of Art for some considerable time. Another resident was a hugely eccentric Lady Moir.  She had a suite where her meals were served.  She only left her room when residents were in the dining room. She must have been rather conscious of her entire look; a face caked with white powder, bright red lips and dyed red hair with red turban surmount. She had a most peculiar walk, which I'd have difficulty to describe. The hotel had one room for non-residents (Room 6) which was oftentimes occupied by Dame Flora McLeod of Dunvegan Castle.

The House and Staff

The beauty of the house was, that old Mrs. Gray had bought it fully furnished and had not considered it necessary to redecorate. Granny Gray, her daughter, Mrs. Leask and her son, Sinclair, lived at garden level, whilst Mr. Leask had an attic room, alongside the three maids (nasty Rose, lovely, fat Janet and hugely timid Elspeth) who were from an orphanage. Granny Gray must have done rather well as she bought Cissy Leask an Armstrong Sidley Sapphire, with LFS 1 as the number.  Cissy was disabled, so the car had been especially adapted.  Sinclair was an only child, a couple of years my senior and rather something of a snob, as he was at George Watson's.  I was quite friendly with him. The toothless Head of Staff was Mrs. Brown, who lived at the coach house, with her son and daughter, and Mrs. Gray's son.

Allan Dunnett, Berwick, Berwickshire, England responded: I was interested in the entry by Edmund Raphael concerning the Pentland Hills Hotel. In 1963 my mother was the cook in the hotel and we lived across the courtyard from the mentioned Mrs Brown.

Staff and Residents

I too knew Sinclair Leask (mentioned by Edmund Raphael). Sinclair used to run around in sports cars which I used to repair on occasions. One of the resident guests in the hotel was a Mr McDowell.  He was an American lawyer, one of the few who was allowed to practice both in the U.K. and the United States.

The Hotel - Bricked-up

Comiston House. Alan Dunnett

Here is a photo of the hotel, all bricked up in 1990.  I've not been back there since then.

Comiston Castle

The buildings at Coach House Square had originally been part of Comiston Castle, a listed building with turret.  The castle was some distance away from the Pentland Hills Hotel.

Ford Van at Coach House Square, Pentland Hills Hotel circa 1965 by Alan Dunnett

Home Guard Club

The door behind the van was the entry to a Home Guard Club, with a lounge bar and two full-sized billiard tables upstairs.

Coach House Square - Buildings Bricked-up

This is how the square looked, with the buildings around it bricked-up in 1990.

Kate Tubb also wrote: My dad, Michael Deignan, lived as a lodger with Mrs Gray, at Crighton Place, Leith Walk. When she moved to the Pentland Hills Hotel, my dad moved with her. She treated him like a son and he lived with her until July 1937, leaving the day he married my mum. I remember visiting Mrs Gray.  She told me to pick some daffodils for my mum.  I picked about six and she told me to take plenty. A good few years ago I asked my husband to take me to the hotel to see what had become of it. I felt very sad to see it blocked up.

The White Lady

During the 1960s the ghost of the White Lady was reported to have been seen by school pupils closeby to the old school grounds near Comiston Farm and Comiston Farmhouse.

'Autumn Morning, Comiston Farm' Robert Napier West

At this time Hunters Tryst School had the most wonderful and extensive school grounds. 

At the far south-east there was a delightful little copse of woods where the more adventurous or wildest pupils played. 

The little woodland was relatively far from the school buildings - indeed if the school lunch bell rang out, no matter how fast a runner you were, if you were playing there it was just too far away to return to the classroom on time.

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

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

Comiston House Stables (Photograph by Alan Brown)

At the far end of the copse was a metal fence which formed the extensive boundary of the school. On the other side of the fence were the former Comiston Farm buildings and Comiston House. It was here that some girls had sworn they had seen and been terrified by the appearance of a ghostly white lady. 

The girls were in such a state of shock that the headmaster Mr McKenzie and schoolteachers became involved and also the local police too. The sighting went viral and many pupils were seriously spooked, upset and in tears. This happened deep into the autumn months when there were heavy mists around in late October 1965. 

Anonymous Comment: 'I remember this event well. Kids were screaming, running, but some of us were fascinated. All we knew was that kids were saying it was 'The Bogey Man'. I remember Mr McKenzie and his white hair wandering around the playing fields beyond where we had been playing in the small wooded copse, urging kids to go to their class. It was mass hysteria on a child's scale which can be very loud. It's one of those things that sticks in your mind even when you are an adult who should know better - but who knows?'

Sheer bravado on my part, I joined a few friends the following lunchtime and we headed up to the copse to see if we might catch sight of the ghostly figure. 

It was very quiet. 

The only sounds which could be caught on the autumn breeze were distant children’s voices playing in the far playgrounds. 

Of course, we didn't see the ghost. 

We weren't disappointed as it only added to the tension as to what might be out there.

Later that day after school and just as dusk was beginning to fall we ventured out to the old farm buildings. 

As we roamed around the gloaming and the mist enshrouded surroundings we were on red alert. 

Darkness was beginning to fall. 

Talk about a finger on the trigger - when we were very close to Comiston Farm, of a sudden someone screamed out that they had heard something and that was enough - well we all turned tail and took to our heels like Tam O'Shanter and ran toward Oxgangs Broadway, down Oxgangs Street and all the way home to the sanctuary of The Stair and Oxgangs Avenue without ever looking behind once, in case we might be turned into a pillar of salt!

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

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

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

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

White Lady Walk (Photo by Neil Black) 

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

Lee Drummond Fraser: My house was right in front of those gates.. 109 Oxgangs Bank! Used to be terrified of the White Lady! Looking out of the kitchen on a dark night used to freak me out.

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

Comiston (Photograph by Alan Brown)

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

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

Scot Ainslie: 'Shit - yes! I still get freaked when I think of her even today. This is how stories and folklore begin. My version is, I used to go wild camping up Bonaly with Mark Elliot and others; anyway, I was the youngest of the group and as we passed the old Gothic house just before we got there, they used to say: “the White Lady was in the top window” (still goosebumps as I write this!). I swear I saw her in the window. Freaked me out, but I didn’t want to tell them how scared I was, because I knew they’d take the piss and make it worse - bullies, huh?! That night, we camped by the burn and I couldn’t sleep. Luckily we all felt cold and we got my mum to pick us up and then slept on the balcony in Caerketton Court with a hot water bottle and a kettle and toast etc...

Fast forward almost 30 years and I draw on this memory as an actor in “The Woman In Black”- I was scared, so were the audience! The legend lives on....who the hell knows what the real story was or how it came about...don’t we just bloody well love stories!'

No Pedlars, Hawkers or Salesmen

When I was doing my early morning paper run for Bairds Newsagents a door plate which I saw at a house in Morningside read No pedlars, hawkers or salesmen. 

I didn't have a clue what the first two terms meant but always found the sign intriguing.

When I read the sentence out aloud  it had a certain rhythm to it - like the Cher song, Gypsys, Tramps & Thieves. Even now, there's a medieval feel to it.

It made me reflect on how lucky we were in some respects to be brought up in Oxgangs.

There was a certain richness of experience in our lives which might have been missing if we'd been brought up elsewhere. We got the chance to meet all these wonderful characters and shared in the vibrancy and colour of communal living. If we'd stayed in the leafy suburbs of Morningside life would have been quieter and much more solitary.

So, No Pedlars, Hawkers or Salesmen certainly wasn't the kind of door-plate that appeared on any door in The Stair. And perhaps if there had been such a notice it might have read as below!

'Another salesman was a Pakistani gentleman who my brother Douglas irreverently called 'Sambo'. I have no idea what his real name was but I always admired him because it took guts to do what he did. He wore a traditional trench coat like Humphrey Bogart and carried a large brown suitcase stuffed with all manner of goods.' Liz Blades

As Liz says one of the many itinerant pedlars, hawkers and salesmen who visited The Stair each week was a small Pakistani or Indian travelling salesman.

We both recall how he was always dressed the same way, no matter whether it was summer or winter, he wore a fawn coloured raincoat/trench-coat.

My mum seemed to recall that he wore a turban - I don't recall whether he did or not. If he did, the odds are that he was Indian.

As Liz said she admired him - it took a lot of chutzpah to go from household to household trying to peddle wares.

He was always impeccably mannered with a ready smile on his face.

For me he was like the rag n bone man because of his suitcase full of curiosities.

The only occasion I recall us getting something from him was a little tin of polish which he recommended to me for cleaning my bicycle.

Ironically, I don't think we bought it - instead it was a free sample to tempt us to purchase the normal size tin. I believe the manufacturers produced these sample tins for that purpose.

I wonder what happened to him and his family over the years and decades?

His was such an exotic appearance and visitation that he left an indelible mark on my memory.

But two stories we do know about is that of Lal Khatri and Baldev Singh from the book Moving Worlds, the Personal Collections Of Twenty One Immigrants To Edinburgh which give an interesting insight into the world of the Pakistani or Indian gentleman with the suitcase who used to visit the residents at The Stair. 

Lal Khatri left the Punjab in 1929 and came to Edinburgh.

He was advised by a friend...If you get a pedlar's licence from the police and you buy some stuff and you sell it, then that will give you some income to live on if you are lucky. He then goes on to say...I managed to get the licence and it was very good from then onwards. Things were hard but I could always get enough money to buy bread and pay for my room and all that sort of thing. We sold all sorts-shirts, dresses and blouses. I sold what I had with me and took orders for anybody wanting anything...the prices were quite reasonable but lots of people had no money. Even one eleven-ha'penny article took two or three visits for customers to pay for. Some people banged the door in front of you...others would open it...Oh, some of those people became friends through that, and others, of course, had no time for you at all.

Baldev Singh with Pappinder in 1969

Baldev Singh came to Edinburgh in 1958.

He was born in Lahore, Pakistan in 1947. He is a Sikh. 

He says...my grandfather came to Edinburgh as a door to door salesman...He used to sell shirts, ties, hankies, blouses, things like that. They all did that when they first came here...But 90% o' Sikhs went roond the doors sellin' with a suitcase, took orders and delivered the stuff. It's freedom to them, you see. Naebody but themselves, naebody tellin' them what to do. They used to go whenever they felt like it...

Even Oxgangs.

The Wednesday Profile #7 Ben Mackenzie, Hairdresser

When do you know you've really made it as a businessman? 

In the days leading up to the start of the new school term in August after the summer holidays my brother Iain and I (6/2 Oxgangs Avenue); the Hanlons (6/7); and dozens of other small boys would be taken up the hill to Ben Mackenzie's to get our hair cut to look smart for our return to Hunters Tryst for the start of another school year. 

Despite some of the images of unhappy kids produced over the years by artists and comments from others I quite enjoyed the whole barbering experience.

Ben's shop was located at the back of the Oxgangs Broadway shops at number 18 on the south facing side. 

It was the furthest away shop from The Stair. 

Ben was a great advert for his business - neat, immaculate and dapper, with brylcreamed greying hair and a little moustache; in some ways he was a walking advertisement for his profession. But not necessarily a good barber. 

Ronnie Cutt felt you were 'lucky to come out with your ears intact!' Whilst Doreen Rutherford Black said her sister, Margaret, went in for a ladies trim and he mistook her for a boy! Margaret retorted that her mum 'made me wear a hat for a month lol!'

Anne Mckenna said 'I remember my mum complaining about his poor barbering. I think she sent my dad back to complain or went herself at some point...the lack of mothers' involvement probably explains how he got away with it for so long.'

We usually had to sit in a queue in his shop but there were always some 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 to ensure Ben did what was wanted. 

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 him!

Ben would set to work and the haircut was always finished off with some 'jungle juice' which he plastered our 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 self-administered haircuts at home one day when my mother was out at work!

Norma Fraser said 'My dad always said (when my brothers were sent there) down to the wood. One style only.' Similarly Brian N Cherie Clement said 'when I was young I went down with my old man and used to ask for a trim; my dad obviously had signalled to Ben and I ended up being scalped - was not impressed.' Neil McGilvray said 'Big Chief Ben gave everyone the same haircut.'

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!' aka a BIG Ben schoolie! (Alan Robertson)

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

The Sunday Post #7 We Plough The Fields And Scatter - The Harvest Festival

Was it the poorest giving to the poor?

'The Harvest Moon', Peter Hoffmann, 2008

At this time of the seasonal year in the 1960s, sometimes tying in with the Harvest Moon, the annual Harvest Festival was held at Hunters Tryst Primary School.

Local schoolchildren were expected to bring in small items of food - some fruit, vegetables or a tin.

The contributions were then laid out artistically on tables in the school hall making for a wonderfully colourful display.

There would also be a special Harvest Service held in the school hall conducted by the Reverend Jack Orr from the local parish church. It was always fun to bark out Matthias Claudius' marvellous hymn  'We plough the fields and scatter the good seed on the land...'

Because of its religious connotation, I don't suppose these Harvest Festivals are still held in many schools, but I suspect they're actually more grounded in pagan tradition. Certainly the word haerfest is the old English word for autumn.

I enjoyed the occasion - they always had a particularly happy, optimistic feel to them reflecting the celebration of autumn and the bringing in of a good harvest; it was an interlude before winter set in and it was another of the rather comforting milestones in the calendar year which are important to children.

The food was thereafter distributed to local pensioners, but I wonder if they were not less in need of the largesse than many local young families in Oxgangs?

The Wednesday Profile #6 Bobbie's Bookshop

Photograph, Catherine Stevenson

Bobbie's Bookshop was situated at 181 Dalry Road for over thirty five years.

The shop sold scraps and paperbacks but the reason why I visited it was that it sold the best range of DC Comics around. 

It was an Aladdin's Cave for my Green Lanterns; Green Arrows; Superman; Batman and Robin; and Justice League of America comics.

I also picked up a few Classics Illustrated too.

Occasionally, my sister Anne might be along with me as the shop also sold scraps too.

Bobbie's had a highly unusual arrangement - if you returned books or comics then you would receive credit to be spent on further comics. Theoretically you could visit Bobbie's with no money at all, and instead trade comics.Whilst you would leave the shops with fewer comics than you entered with you were still going home with different comics to read - oh the anticipation!

If you also had money with you, even better! I guess it was a book exchange.

Back in the 1990s on a return visit to Edinburgh I looked out to Dalry Road for fun to see if the shop still existed - I couldn't believe my eyes - yes it did!

I ventured in and spoke to the owner for a wee while - he was retiring soon, closing the shop in a few weeks; for old times' sake I bought some DCs with the Bobbie's Bookshop imprint on them and thanked him for the wonderful service he provided to the community for decades.

On doing a little research I discovered the shop was also a newsagent and had been allegedly black-balled for a few years by the Sunday Mail and Daily Record for failing to open on New Year's Day 1967 to sell papers - evidently the locals supported his stance and switched their allegiance to other papers.

The Wednesday Profile #7 Mr Forgan; Sandra Catterson and Mrs Davidson

For all the years I recall living in Oxgangs between 1958 to 1972 and beyond the chemist's shop at Oxgangs Broadway was run by Mr David R. Forgan. Ann-Marie Bain recalls that his displayed certificate showed that he had qualified as a chemist as early as 1939 at the start of the Second World War.

I assume he was one of the original shopkeepers.

As might be expected this was a well-run shop and always had a classy feel to it.

You somehow felt secure in his shop - it exuded a certain confidence and professionalism, something which you would look for in such an important profession.

If you needed to wait for a prescription there was a seat, however there was always such a mix of interesting goods in the shop and other customers that sometimes you didn't mind waiting.

It sold an interesting array of perfumes, salts, talcum powders, cough sweets and small penny lollipops - to help the medicine go down? The chemists' shops at that time had a certain pleasant smell about them. As Karen Reid said ‘I can still remember the smells!’

Mr Forgan was a patrician sort of a chap - with his balding head and remaining white hair he seemed old to me then, but I guess he was much younger than I am now, 62 years of age.  

He was courteous and pleasant and had a distinctive presence - in my memory he looked a little like the Colonel Blimp character portrayed by Roger Livesy; but on seeing a photograph of him recently there is only a very slight resemblance.

Many local girls enjoyed their first Saturday job there including Linda Hamilton, Ann-Marie Bain and Karen Macleod as well as holiday jobs. And judging by the positive comments it was a good place to work. Karen said ‘I loved all the old ladies coming in to choose a new lipstick!’

Several members of the Oxgangs A Pastime From Time Past Facebook group comment on what a lovely man Mr Forgan was and how helpful - if you needed some advice rather than a visit to the doctor’s he always had the time for a quick chat.

Sandra Catterson said ‘My old boss and very dear friend; I was very lucky to have the privilege of working with him for eighteen years until his retirement.’ 

Others including Susan Henderson recall how it’s changed days – it was to the chemist’ that we ventured in to, to have our camera spools developed - that prominence can be seen in the Kodak advert in the shop window. Extract from Retep Nnamffoh's diaries:  Friday, Hogmanay, 1971 '...It was a boring last day of 1971. The only wee excitement was going up to the chemist's shop to collect my photies...' 14th February, 1972: '...I also looked in to Forgan's the Chemist at Oxgangs Broadway to buy a spool for my wee Kodak Brownie camera...'

Douglas Cutt commented ‘Good God, another memory! I bought a 2/6d plastic Diana camera from my paper round money and took some photos of my Jackie Stewart Formula 1 car model that I had just put together and painted. I took the photographs on the street. He (Mr Forgan) was asking how I had managed to get such good photos... he thought it was the real car!’

Because we lived closer to The Store, where as part of the overall building, there was an additional two separate shops, one of which was a paint and decorator's shop, (which couldn't possibly survive today) and t'other a chemist (where the chip shop is today) we tended to share our custom between the two chemists shops. The chemist here was actually part of St Cuthbert's Co-operative Association Ltd.

It had the same feel as Forgan’s Chemist shop, but was smaller, less inviting and there was less freedom to roam and as a customer you were kept at a distance.

Sandra Catterson and Dorothy Davidson

There was a link between the two shops because Martin Davidson’s mother (from further down Oxgangs Avenue) worked there; she was a glamorous lady with blonde hair - she was a very friendly woman, but someone who could also be sensitive combined with great customer care - an asset to the business. Although I haven't thought of Mrs Davidson in over four decades it's strange the impact and impression that people can make on you even as children and still remain with you after all these years. It was rather lovely to see a photograph of her with her colleague, Sandra Catterson, taking a short break on a sunny day outside Forgan's the Chemist's shop - I hadn't realised that she had worked there too - perhaps after The Store chemist closed down?