Cars

 This is a Google image of a Morris 1100, my first car.

 

Cars

 

When I was a child hardly anyone seemed to have a car.  Of course, that changed over the years, and I resolved that I would get a car when I could.   I saved and bought a car when I was 18, a Morris 1100 through a man at my dad’s work at the BMC (British Motor Corporation later to be British Leyland).  I was ecstatic, only one problem I didn’t have my full driving licence, enter my friend Davie who did but didn’t have a car.  What a partnership, as well as proper lessons with a driving instructor, Davie sat beside me as the experienced driver in his spare time, and we were always out at the weekends going to different places.  It was a change from the West Calder Polly which used to be the regular Saturday night dancing haunt for the locals. My sisters including my older sister Moira were not allowed to go for quite some time after I was, my Father, God bless him, got his ‘blessings’ from them.  Davie and I went to, Edinburgh, Kirkcaldy, Dunfermline, Seahouses (north England), Darlington, Sunderland (and stayed with my Aunt Isabel who had moved to near Darlington from Dunoon by then). My first car, an old Morris 1100, caused my first and only run in with the Police. I had car trouble one Saturday in the winter, it just wouldn’t start so I called my Mechanic, Willie who with his friend got the car started.  My friend Davie and I went to the Raith Ballroom in Kirkcaldy.  When it came time to go home the car wouldn’t start, we tried everything, I wasn’t in the AA or RAC and it was very late, seriously cold and freezing.  Neither of our parents drove or had a phone so we used our intelligence and went to a police station to ask for help.  They just were not interested, so here were Davie and I freezing, very little funds and nowhere to go for help.  Davie suggested borrowing a car battery to jump start the car.  That is how we ended up spending the night in the cells in Kirkcaldy, we had to remove our shoes and belts, this was after questioning of course.  Next morning, we made bail, my Uncle Kenny who did drive and had a car brought my Mum and Dad over to get us.   We got the offending car started, got halfway across the Forth Road Bridge when it broke down again.  We eventually got home when my Mum gave me a right roasting.  Although I heard afterwards that during the night when I was in the Police cell my parents got a knock at the door from the local police to tell them what had happened, my mother wouldn’t believe them and was in danger of losing her temper with the police.  I felt duty bound to tell my boss in the office I worked in what had happened, I had pictures of me getting the sack, ending up in jail.  Fortunately, my boss knew me and was very supportive.  Davie and I went to court on our own without a Lawyer and got a small fine which was a very small amount to pay for the lesson it taught us.

 

The most problematic car I ever had was an old petrol Mercedes.  Another mechanic friend of mine said that old Mercedes were great reliable cars.  He found one for me which I bought and when I was driving it home a bit fell of it, the warning bells should have been sounding then. There always seemed to be problems with it, not always mechanical, I seemed to have more than my fair share of flat tyres too, however in the main it was okay.  We were going on holiday to visit my sister Helen in Bristol for our Summer holidays and enroute I had to call in at Stockport, Manchester to see a client.  The timing of the appointment meant we had to leave at 4.30 in the morning.  There was my wife and two of my sons, Alastair, Colin and me. Christopher, my oldest son who is a piper was away with his Band. We set off in the Mercedes which I had serviced prior to the journey.  We were leaving East Calder and heading down across country to Carlisle.  As we were heading towards Carnwath, the solitary car in front threw up a stone and chipped my windscreen, a little later a horde of rabbits literally flooded the road in my path then a bird fell out of the sky and bounced of my windscreen.  I didn’t realise at the time that this was the fun part of the journey.  We got to Stockport in good time, I did my appointment, and we then had a nice lunch before heading back to the M6 Motorway.  We were moving slowly along the slip road heading onto the motorway and into heavy traffic, as I was looking over my right shoulder, the slow-moving lorry on the motorway let me know I had a flat tyre.  I managed to pull into the hard shoulder, Pat, my wife and Alastair got out of the car, Colin stayed in the car.  We got all the luggage out of the car, got it jacked up and just as I was about to remove the wheel Alastair got back in the car which then proceeded to roll of the jack!  Eventually we got going again and we finally got on the M5 motorway on the final stretch of our journey, and I felt by now that I had been travelling forever.  The sun was starting to sink below the horizon, and it was a beautiful view as we headed towards Bristol.  Suddenly there was an almighty bang and smoke started billowing from the engine at which time I gently manoeuvred into the hard shoulder thinking what next?  I sat there stunned (after switching the engine off).  No mobile phone in those days, I looked at Pat shook my head and got out the car to go and find an AA roadside phone box, glad that at least had very comprehensive cover with them.  As I was walking along the hard shoulder, I spotted a bit metal on the motorway, and I was sure it was from my car. I checked to make sure the road was clear then I gingerly went to lift it up, I then realised too late that it was extremely hot and burnt my hand.  The AA turned up in due course and towed me off the motorway, it transpired the engine was a write off with no clear reason why.  The car was towed back to Scotland, and I got a car for two days as part of my cover with the AA.  I then hired a car when it was time to head home.

 

Honeymoons, visitors and growing up Part 3

 Our childhood dog Gyp. He was about 18" in height but thought he was much larger and the Don Juan of dogs.

I mentioned my cousin Iain earlier when he enhanced my vocabulary. Iain lived about 500 yard away from My Aunt Isabel’s house in Kirn, Dunoon.  My Aunt Isabel (Paterson) was my Mum’s sister and her side of the family whereas my cousin Iain (Gibson) was on my Dad’s side. When we were on holiday in Dunoon, I would have my dinner at the Paterson’s then occasionally head over to the Gibson’s where I usually got some dinner too.  My cousin Iain is slightly older than me, he has always been a really kind and generous person. He started work on the laundry vans when I came to stay with his family as the Patersons had moved down to the north of England.  When it was time to go home Iain said he would write which he did, and he always included a sixpence which was a lot from his small wage. One of the other times I stayed at Iain’s, probably the year after the one above, one of Iain’s friends was in the Territorial Army, or something like that and he had a couple of one-man canoes in his care. Of course, he kindly let me out on one and my cousin Iain out on the other.  I had only ever been out on rowing boats before, and this was completely different.  Once I started to get the hang of it, Iain had this brilliant idea about rowing out to the Gantocks, a lighthouse out on the river Clyde, so off we went. I never realised how strong the currents were in the Clyde until it was time to row back, then I really started to panic, no matter how hard I rowed I just couldn’t seem to make any progress, my arms felt like lead, yet I couldn’t stop.  Iain was much further in front and wasn’t aware that my vivid imagination had me already out to sea.  I persevered and made progress until I eventually caught up with him.  Did I learn? not a bit of it.  We headed towards the pier where we were scooting about showing off to the people waiting on the next ferry.  The pier looked huge as I got close up, all the better for my admiring audience, that is until I got stuck under one of the massive wooden supports for the pier.  Just for effect a large car ferry had decided to arrive at that time, I could see it’s large wake very clearly as it got closer and closer.  I struggled and couldn’t get the canoe to shift and then a man in uniform looked over the top of the pier and shouted, “Get that bloody canoe (if these were not the words, it was certainly close) out of there.”  At this stage I was about ready to jump out of the canoe and take my chances running along the wooden support beams when suddenly I broke free.  The Ferry was very close and there was a man in uniform watching closely from the front of that too.  Well I had a new lease of life, I paddled that canoe like a champion, gliding not through the water but over it like a champion.  Of course, that was enough adventure for me for that day.  I never went out on the canoe again.

 

Several years later Iain came to stay with us for a week’s holiday in Polbeth, I had started drinking vodka, I think I seventeen, but my Mum and Dad didn’t know.  Iain and I went out to the Meadowhead Hotel, approximately 2-3 miles away on the Friday night and I ended up getting quite drunk. Iain was panicking knowing that my parents were unaware that I had started drinking (I say that as if I went out and consumed loads of drink, truth is I’ve never been much of a drinker).  There was no taxi to hand and no bus so we had to walk home, that is to say that Iain did, I staggered even although I was ably supported by Iain holding me underneath the elbow.  We arrived outside the close, Iain took stock of the situation and asked me to wait as he would go and get Gyp and we could take him a small walk which would complete the sobering process for me.  We took the dog a walk down through the park, letting him off the lead in the process.  When we arrived at the bottom of the park we could not find Gyp, we called, we whistled, no response, I may even have shouted SPAM!.  By this time Iain was a nervous wreck, I was drunk but getting sober and the dog had disappeared.  We searched everywhere in the dark and couldn’t find him, eventually we gave up, and by this time I was completely sober.  Iain on the other hand must have thought he’d leapt from the frying pan into the fire, now he felt responsible for Gyp and he was going to have to explain to my parents how the dog had disappeared.  He trudged up the road beside me, we entered the close, I could just about hear Iain’s brain trying to figure out what to say about the missing Gyp.  We climbed the stairs, got to our front door, looked resignedly at each other, turned the handle to be nearly deafened by the barking which came from inside.  Proving that you may think your dog will appreciate a walk, but he may not always agree!

 

Honeymoons, visitors and growing up Part 2

 

West Calder Brass Band - Parkhead Gala Day 1967 (I was a band member but not in the photo)

We used to play down by the burn (stream) during the Summer, of course the burn was never really deep, that was until some older boys built a dam out of branches and anything else they could find that would stop the water getting through. Those that could swim splashed about in the water, I was still at primary school then and couldn’t swim.  I was standing on the bank probably wearing shorts when a larger boy pushed me into the water, I remember hitting the brownish coloured water and it went over my head, I must have flailed about madly under the water.  No one would have been able to see as it was as I said a dirty brown colour, I really thought I was going to drown as I couldn’t get to the surface.  Another salutary lesson, for some strange reason I think I put my feet on the bottom and stood up and, miracle of miracles, I could stand with my head above the water.  Of course, I was spluttering and howling as I struggled up the bank to dry land and as I look back, I don’t know who was more upset me or the boy who pushed me in as he thought I could swim.  I am sure if I hadn’t put my feet down on the bottom of the burn I would have continued to struggle and probably drowned in water which as it turned out I could stand up in.

 

I was a boy who loved his food which on one occasion led me to become ill, it began at school lunch.  Because I was in primary seven, I was able to sit at the top of the table and wield the ladle if it was soup on the menu.  One lunch time we were served fried eggs on a metal dish from which I was to distribute them to my fellow pupils at the table.  No one wanted them and so me being me and remembering the sayings passed on by most parents, waste not, want not, (I never had to be really told that because I usually ate everything and everyone else’s leftovers at home), I ate the lot.  That night I started to feel ill, I was sick, had diarrhoea and ended up of school for a few days and never ate fried eggs again for years.  I remember my Mum had to pop out briefly, I was lying in bed recuperating, PJs on, reading a book when a knock came to the door.  The door then opened, “Is anybody in?” was shouted and I got such a fright it was on my lips to shout Noooooooo! When common sense prevailed and I recognised the voice, it was an old friend of the family who we knew as Papa MacNab.

 

I was in fourth year when my stubborn streak came out again, I was bullied at school and hated it, there was one person who no one ever really argued with him as he was big and muscular, definitely not to be messed with.  He would occasionally make his presence felt, one day there was some messing about (not involving me) when something of his fell out of a window, “Gibson,” he said, “go and get my…!” whatever it was.  I refused, he came and twisted my arm up my back telling me to go and do as I was told.  I refused, saying to myself my arm might break but I wasn’t going to do anything.  He eventually let me go and I never had any trouble with him again.

 

Many years later when I was a young working man but still living at home.  My Mum was going to her work as I came home, she gave me instructions, I’ve made a pot of mince she said, heat it up before you eat it.  I followed her instructions and consumed every last spot of mince.  Then my sister Helen and my Dad got home looking for their tea which I of course had consumed with great relish thinking that all the mince was for me.

 

When I was in Primary school, I joined West Calder Brass Band.  My family roots are Pipers and Drummers but there was no Pipe Band near by. There was 30 plus all joined the Brass Band on the same night following an announcement around the schools, I was in Primary 5 or 6.  Within two weeks the numbers reduced drastically until there was only 2 or 3 of us left.  Our conductor Jacky Omand, I can still see yet, with baton in hand rapping us across the fingers if we were not paying attention, he must have had the patience of a saint.  After we had been in the band a little while, Jacky showed us his dexterity and reflexes by hitting down where his fingers were with a hammer, his eyes were closed I think and he always escaped crushing his fingers.  None of us tried it because like me my fellow trainee bandsman would not have had fingers to play their instruments.  The band hall was in West Calder next to an old cemetery and ruined church, it had a big stove which we used to huddle around in the winter before we started practice.  The first thing we got to practice on was a mouthpiece and we got to take that home with us.  Well, everyone in my close in Chapelton Drive new I had the mouthpiece because I let them know by managing noises through it as I climbed the communal stairs.  After getting my cornet to take home (our dog Gyp used to howl when I practiced although I chose to believe he was singing along with me in his own way) I got my Band Uniform.  The band had been a great band in it’s day, supported by the miners as the Calders and surrounding areas were all mining communities or had been.  When I joined it was down to about 8 adult members and they couldn’t muster a large enough band to play at Gala Days or competitions.  The Uniforms appeared to me to be antiques but it felt great.  We had to try on uniforms that had been lying in a cupboard for a long time and they were all adult sizes.  My trousers came halfway up my chest and I could have fitted the big drum in there too and still had slack.  The Band started to pick up more members and some came from Stoneyburn as their band had stopped, John Kelly came with them and he really dedicated himself for many selfless years to the band as its Secretary.  We started practicing marching and when we were ready we played in public, heady days. We had our first competition at the Usher Hall in Edinburgh and we were all really nervous but I think we did okay.  I received an opportunity to go for a week to St Andrews when I was 14 to practice and possibly play for the Youth Brass Band of Scotland, I had never really travelled anywhere before on my own, never mind travelling by 3 trains to get to St Andrews. It was West Calder to Edinburgh, then to Leuchars where I changed for St Andrews then I had to find the College where we were staying and practicing, I don’t mind telling you my heart was in my mouth.  I didn’t know a soul and of course we, the boys that is, shared a dormitory.  I was auditioned for there was the main Band and the second or backup band. I got my trusty West Calder cornet out thinking that at that moment constipation might have been a blessing, I gave it my best and ended up in the second band.  I had received strict instructions from my Mum to phone and let them know I was okay; the problem was we didn’t have a phone like most people around us.  Mr and Mrs Clifford at the end of the street a few doors away did, so my Mum suggested phoning them which I did, probably nearly causing them and my Mother heart failure in the process as I decided in my wisdom to reverse the charges.  I think Mrs Clifford had a good laugh though as she had a good sense of humour. What a great week it was and great fun too meeting young people from all over Scotland. I went back the following year and when it came to the audition I already had it in my mind that I would be in the second Band.  Mr Marchant was the organiser and also one of the auditioners stopped me as I was about to play.  He said that it was my instrument that let me down last year and he arranged for me to audition with another coronet and that was me in the main band! That was a salutary lesson, for sometimes, not always, the performance or job or whatever it is cannot be improved upon if it is due to circumstances out with our control. I played the Carnegie Hall (sounds good) in Dunfermline at the end of session Concert, Bryden Thomson was our very famous conductor.    Two things happened at that time, I had never had a date, or a girlfriend and I had met this girl Gwen from Dunfermline who was a couple of years younger than me, and she liked me.  At the end of our week, we exchanged addresses as she wanted to keep in touch.  As I was getting the train back, I got cold shivers through my body, here was this really nice girl going to write to me, liked me, wanted to keep in touch.  I could see it all, marriage family, not in the future, it felt that it was going to be tomorrow.  We did exchange a few letters; I must have disappointed her terribly being so useless at communicating with the opposite sex.  The other thing that happened started before I went to the Youth Brass Band week, my mum had said it wasn’t likely that we would be going to Dunoon for our annual holiday as we couldn’t afford it, needless to say we were all disappointed.  I did say with the innocence of youth that things always sorted themselves out.  When I got back my Mum had won 25 pounds with a premium bond which was a lot for us in these days.  So, it was like a little miracle and we had our holiday in Dunoon.

 

When I was about 20 and thought of myself as a man who knew a few things, I found much to my discomfort that it is very easy to get words mixed up. The words may sound similar but the difference in meaning can be vast. My sister Helen and her friend Lynn were in our kitchen, the favourite talking place because it was always so light and bright.  Lynn was chatting and telling us that she had trouble with bleeding gums, I sympathised as I had been to the Dentist with the same problem and I told her with absolute misplaced certainty that she had Gonorrhoea, of course I realised later that what I had meant to say was Pyarea.